Royal Ruse: The Kabiero Royals, #1

Chapter 1

Francesca

T ake a breath, Lucas, I said as I flopped on my bed, holding the phone to my ear while simultaneously holding in the sigh begging to be let out.

Please tell me I’m doing the right thing, Frankie, Lucas said. The tremor in his voice was a dead giveaway to just how freaked out he was.

You know I can’t do that, I replied. You love her, though, right?

Clarissa is exactly what I need in a wife, he said, and I rolled my eyes.

Clarissa was annoying and vain and vapid and I didn’t like her at all, but I knew Lucas’ mother loved her and would be overjoyed if—when—Lucas asked her to marry him. Me, not so much.

"But do you love her?" I asked again.

Lucas was my best friend, and we’d been best friends since we met on the first day of college. Harvard was a big, scary school, and I’d glommed onto Lucas almost from the moment I bumped into him and spilled his armful of books everywhere. He was awkward and adorable and the sweetest guy I’d ever known. I, on the other hand, was a little more rough and tumble and had been accused of being too brash on occasion. We shouldn’t work as friends, but we did, which was why I’d never pursued the crush I had on him. No way was I going to jeopardize our friendship when I knew there could never be a future between the two of us.

That didn’t mean I wanted him to marry Clarissa, though.

It also didn’t mean I could tell him my honest thoughts on their future union.

I enjoy spending time with her, he replied. And we have a lot in common. Mother loves her and Clarissa loves Mother, so…

Should I point out to him he still had not told me he loved her? Probably not. I’d already pushed him enough, and I knew if I pushed too hard he would curl up in a ball like an armadillo and not speak to me for a few days.

So you’re going to ask her then? I prompted. You’ll propose to Clarissa tonight? I hope you booked a great restaurant. Have you bought the ring?

Yes, yes, and yes, he said, sounding more confident with each affirmative answer. "I booked a table at Menton months ago and I had the ring custom made. I stalked her Instagram feed for design ideas."

I rolled my eyes again. Of course Clarissa had been posting pictures of engagement rings on her Instagram feed. She was as subtle as a tank rolling down a hill.

"Ooh, Menton, classy, I said brightly. So, you’re all set then. This time tomorrow you’ll be a fiancé!"

Oh God, he muttered.

It shouldn’t make me happy that he seemed to be doubting his decision to ask Clarissa to marry him, right? I mean, that would make me a bad friend…wouldn’t it?

Before I could say something to assuage his fears, I heard a commotion on his end of the phone and the unmistakable voice of his mother.

Uh, Frankie? I have to go. Mother is here.

No problem, I replied, but he’d already disconnected.

I groaned and tossed my phone onto the bed.

Why, God, why? Why did it have to be Clarissa?

I growled again in frustration and kicked my legs against the mattress like a two year old throwing a temper tantrum.

I wanted Lucas to be happy. I wanted him to find someone who would love and adore him like he deserved, but that person was not Clarissa. And it might be selfish of me, but I wanted him to find someone I could be friends with too. Clarissa didn’t like me and she tried to drive a wedge between my friendship with Lucas every chance she got. I knew that if—when—he married her, it would be the death knell for our BFF status.

But maybe that was the wake-up call I needed. I couldn’t pine away for him indefinitely. We would never be more than friends, so I had no right to wish away his happiness just because I didn’t get on with his significant other. I valued my friendship with Lucas above my pride, so if that meant making nice with Clarissa, then I would. I would do anything for Lucas.

The alarm on my phone sounded, and I groaned again as I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I had an appointment with my dissertation supervisor and I couldn’t be late. I was so close to finishing my Ph.D. in sociology, if I could only decide on my final dissertation. Being me, I couldn’t just do sociology, I had to throw in a bit of psychology and anthropology as well, just to keep things interesting. Now I wished I hadn’t been so ambitious. Time was ticking and if I didn’t make some progress soon, all those years I’d spent studying would be for nothing.

I turned off the alarm and tossed my phone back on the bed, taking one last look at the picture of me and Lucas that was my phone’s wallpaper. It was my favorite photo of us, of him. He was laughing, and completely unaware of just how good looking he was, although that wasn’t unusual. Lucas had no idea just how beautiful he was. Thick, ebony hair that was always just a touch too long and always a bit too unruly, and warm brown eyes that I could stare into indefinitely. He had the best smile, with deep dimples and the longest, darkest eyelashes I’d ever seen on anybody—male or female. He also gave the best hugs and although I wasn’t an overly affectionate person, I could never turn down being wrapped in his arms.

It was just such a shame that he didn’t see me as anything other than his friend.

I sighed and stalked into the bathroom for a shower. He was only hours away from proposing to the woman of his dreams. I needed to stop mooning after him and get on with my own life…specifically, decide on the subject for my dissertation. If I could distract myself with work, then maybe I could finally get over this childish crush.

I snorted. Not likely, but it was a wonderful goal to have, at least.

Lucas

Lucas!

I disconnected from Frankie and looked up at my mother. She was a striking woman, her dark hair rich and glossy and stylishly swept up on top of her head. She wore a designer pants suit in white and accessorized with gold jewelry. Even her heeled sandals glittered gold.

Lucas, she said again, barging into my office waving around an envelope.

Annabel, my assistant, gave me an apologetic look before she closed the door and left me alone with my mother.

Mother, I said, standing and stepping around my desk to greet her. I angled my head to accept her kiss on the cheek and then guided her to a chair. But she didn’t sit. Instead, she shoved the envelope she’d been holding into my face.

Lucas, she said, barely keeping her voice at a respectable decibel. "It’s from the king."

I pushed my glasses up my nose and took a breath to steady my nerves. My parents had kept me informed with all the goings on in Kalopsia. I barely remembered the Mediterranean island where I was born, as we’d fled from the ‘troubles’ twelve years ago. My parents had taken their raïda distillery business and moved it, and our family, to America, the land of promise. Raïda was an intense spirit, similar to ouzo or sambuca, and had a reputation for being a modern day absinthe. The company had grown exponentially since moving to America and my parents had never looked back.

You need to open it, my mother insisted urgently. Right now.

I took the envelope and turned it over in my hand. I knew the prince had returned to Kalopsia—he was the king now—I just didn’t know why he would send me a letter. Why me and not my parents? They were the ones with the title; I was just the son, and not a very impressive one at that. My younger sister was far more accomplished and the jewel in the Andino family. Me? I was just the accountant.

Lucas, my mother encouraged. Open it.

Why haven’t you opened it already? I asked, moving back around to the other side of my desk and falling into my chair. I adjusted my glasses again and looked to my mother. Her cheeks flushed. You opened it already, I said with a sigh.

Just read it, she said, finally taking her seat.

I turned the envelope over in my hands and looked at the wax seal which had been cracked and then clumsily re-sealed. My stomach cramped and my knee bobbed nervously. As if I didn’t have enough to be nervous about today. The ring I’d had made for Clarissa sat heavily in my pocket, and the words I’d been practicing all day ran around in my head and got incredibly jumbled. Now I had a wax-sealed missive from a king. It felt like getting sent to the principal’s office, although I had no idea what I could have done wrong.

I slid my finger under the seal and cracked it for the second time. The envelope was made from a heavy card stock and so was the folded, handwritten letter inside.

I skimmed the letter, just to check I wasn’t being sued or scolded or…I didn’t know what else. I just needed to know I wasn’t in trouble for something. But when I got to the end, I had to go back to the top and start reading again because I couldn’t actually believe what I’d just read.

I don’t understand, I said, looking up at my mother after reading the letter a second time.

My mother vibrated in her chair, barely able to keep still. This was exactly the type of thing she craved. She took her place in society very seriously and for the king to reach out and request my presence as part of his court was just the thing she needed to climb another rung on society’s ladder.

"The king needs you," she said, clapping her hands.

I didn’t know about that, but the request intrigued me. King Christophe was asking me to travel to Kalopsia and consider taking up a position in his royal court.

Why me? I asked. Why not you and Father?

Mother shrugged. I suppose he wants to start fresh, surround himself with people his own age.

I could tell she was a little miffed that she and Father were not being asked to return, but having a son in the royal court was the next best thing. Besides, why would she want to give up the luxury she lived in to go back to an island that had suffered under the regime of a greedy and fiscally irresponsible usurper? Kalopsia was not the jewel it used to be, and my parents liked the finer things in life. Not to mention, my parents had fled, abandoning the former-king to his fate. It was a surprise the new king wanted anything to do with any of us.

Of course you’ll go, and you will take Clarissa with you.

What?

You can’t go to Kalopsia without a wife, Mother said. And you are planning to ask Clarissa to marry you, aren’t you?

I didn’t know how my mother knew I was planning to propose to my long-term girlfriend, but I’d given up trying to figure out how my mother knew any of the things she did.

So, you ask Clarissa to marry you and then tell her she will be a markissia.

Markissia, the Kalopsian title for marchioness, which would make me a marquess, or markissios.

Oh god. I couldn’t breathe. I tugged at my tie and my collar. Meanwhile, my mother continued to prattle on about god-knew what. I was about to pass out and all my mother cared about was ensuring I had enough tailored suits to take with me because, in her words, ‘there is no way Kalopsia had any decent tailors left.’

I wiped my hands on my pants and took a breath before knocking on my sister’s office door.

Come, she said from inside.

I’d already gotten past her gatekeeper and been announced via the intercom, but no one, and I did mean no one, entered Euphemia Andino’s domain without knocking first.

I straightened my glasses and opened the door, closing it behind me and crossing the office quickly.

Do you have those numbers for me? she asked without looking up from her computer screen.

I emailed them to you five minutes ago, I replied, not taking a seat until she bid me to.

There must be a lag, Effie said, clicking around her screen and looking for the reports I’d sent her.

I waited silently, my hands behind my back. I tried not to fidget or shuffle my feet, Effie hated that. She said it was a sign of weakness, and Effie hated weakness of any kind. Instead, I stared out the wall of windows behind Effie that showcased downtown Boston in all its glory. The office took up the entire top floor of the brand new One Congress building at Bulfinch Crossing. Effie lived in one of the penthouses in an adjacent building in the same precinct and had offered me one as well, but I found living at home easier. The family estate in Newton was large enough that I had my own wing but still had the convenience of a cook and cleaner and all the amenities paid for. Not that I was lacking finances, I just preferred not to spend them when I could get the same thing for free.

Effie was the spitting image of our mother, if a little more severe. It was the expression she wore almost constantly that gave her the severe look. If my sister ever really let go and smiled, she would be absolutely gorgeous. She was three years younger than me, but she was the CEO of the family business. Father handed her the reins almost the same day she graduated with her MBA. I’d been working in the finance department of the company for a year by then, but there was never any question that the CEO position would go to Effie. I didn’t even hold the CFO position, which suited me just fine. I liked numbers and data sets and not being responsible for the financial well-being of the company our parents had built.

Good, Effie mumbled, scrolling her way through the numbers on the screen. These are good, much better than I expected.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, the slightest upturn of a smile on her lips as she finally looked at me.

Sit, she said, and I did. So, what have you decided?

I didn’t need to tell Effie why I was in her office. Mother would have already filled my sister in on the letter and summons from the king.

I’m proposing to Clarissa tonight, I said.

I knew that, she replied with a grimace.

Effie didn’t particularly like Clarissa, but she would never forbid me to marry her. She would make her displeasure known in other ways, although she would never aim her digs at me. Effie treated me as if she were the older sibling, doting on me when we were younger and acted as my protector through the harrowing years of high school bullying.

No, Effie wouldn’t make any disparaging remarks about Clarissa to me or make me feel stupid for wanting to marry her. She would, however, make life uncomfortable for Clarissa, or at least she had in the past. I didn’t know—but I hoped—that would change once Clarissa and I were married.

Are you going to answer the king’s summons?

I nodded. Yes, I replied and then immediately followed up with, Do you think I’m doing the right thing?

Effie picked up a silver pen and tapped it against her chin as she studied me across her desk.

I think it will be good for you, she said finally. You’ll get to see the old country, meet some new people— I grimaced. I wasn’t a fan of meeting new people…or people in general. She smiled fondly at me, or at least what passed for a smile in Effie’s world. And I dare say the king could do with some of your stellar financial advice.

I grimaced again. I didn’t want to give the new king financial advice.

You sell yourself far too short, Effie said with a shake of her head. I would give you the CFO position in a heartbeat if you asked.

I don’t want it, I replied. It was true. I got anxious just thinking about being the head of the department, although it made me feel good to know Effie valued my opinion and saw me as more than just the underachiever our parents saw me as.

So, you’ll go to Kalopsia and see what the king wants, Effie said with a nod.

And I’ll probably come back, I replied.

I was under no illusion that I was not the type of person the king needed in his new court.

He should have summoned you, I said.

She shook her head. I would have turned him down, she replied. I’m already the queen of my domain, I don’t need a royal title to go with it.

It was true. If ever there was a position custom made for a person, CEO of Andino Raïda was it for Effie. I still didn’t know the place where I fit. I doubted I would find it in Kalopsia, but it couldn’t hurt to go there and have a look around. No one said I had to stay there indefinitely. I may hate it. The king might hate me. None of this was set in stone.

When will you leave? Effie asked, leaning forward again and looking back at her computer. I was already being dismissed.

A month or so, I replied, standing to my feet. Does that give you long enough to replace me?

Effie looked up at me then and smiled softly. No one can replace you, Lucas, she said. She looked back at the computer and then back at me as a sudden thought hit her. Have you told Frankie?

I shook my head. Not yet, I said.

I would have rung Frankie as soon as Mother left my office, except I knew she had an appointment with her Ph.D. supervisor. I really wanted to talk to her, but it would have to wait.

I’ll call her soon, I said as I turned to go.

I’m sure she’ll tell you the same thing I did, Effie said, her eyes drifting back to the computer screen.

I’m sure she will.

If Effie was unimpressed with Clarissa, then she was positively enamored with Frankie. Effie and Frankie got on like a house on fire, and if I hadn’t met her first, Effie would have made Frankie her best friend. They had a common interest—looking out for me.

Chapter 2

Lucas

S o the king wants to see you, Demetrius Andino said as I walked into the library.

My father was seated behind his large mahogany desk with a glass of raïda in his hand. It wasn’t his first by the distinct aniseed scent in the air, and wouldn’t be his last before he crawled into bed.

Since handing the company over to Effie, Demetrius spent his days on the Brae Burn golf course or at the club drinking with his cronies. The desk in the library was only there to make him feel like he still had at least a toe in the waters of Andino Raïda. But we all knew the truth, Effie was the boss and she only let us play in her sandbox.

I didn’t think my father minded all that much. He’d spent a good portion of his life working in the company, first in his youth back in Kalopsia under the instruction of his father and his grandfather, and then re-establishing it here in America after we fled Kalopsia. We were some of the lucky ones, escaping with most of our fortune and our lives. Others weren’t so fortunate.

He does, I replied, taking the seat opposite the desk and smoothing my tie.

I was on my way out when my father summoned me. I really didn’t have the headspace to deal with his posturing, not when I was trying to remember all the words I wanted to say to Clarissa.

And you’ll be taking Clarissa?

I nodded. Nothing in my life was private. I didn’t even try to keep secrets anymore. It was easier to avoid the conflict and just let the family pry into my life. I had nothing to hide, anyway. My life was very boring, although I preferred it that way.

Good, Demetrius said with a sharp nod. You need her.

I didn’t answer, even if the pronouncement stung a little. I knew I wasn’t what my father had hoped for in a first-born son, but it still upset me to be constantly reminded of it.

Have you told him, yet? Mother asked as she swept into the room and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

I was just getting to it, Father replied.

I held in my sigh and stilled my fidgeting while I waited for them to say whatever it was they felt was important enough to make me late for my date.

We are concerned about you taking on the title and going to Kalopsia, Father said as Mother took the seat beside me.

Kalopsia is not what it used to be, Mother said, pursing her lips before taking a sip of her drink.

Which is why we have agreed that unless you are married, I won’t pass the title to you.

Um…what?

I didn’t know if my father had the authority to deny me the title, especially if the king decreed the title was to go to me.

Mother patted my knee and smiled a sad, patronizing smile at me like I was a two-year-old who didn’t understand why I couldn’t have candy for dinner.

All the decent people fled the country, she said. The only ones left are the poor and desperate. They will take one look at you and your title and seduce you without another thought.

I swallowed, mortified at my mother’s opinion of me.

I don’t think it will be an issue, I said, thankful my voice didn’t waver. I’m proposing to Clarissa tonight. We might not be married, but we will be engaged by the time I leave.

Yes, good, Father said with a nod and a gruff voice. But just in case things don’t go as you expected, if she turns you down, then we won’t let you go.

You think Clarissa will turn me down? I asked, my voice very nearly squeaking.

Of course not, dear, Mother said, once more patting my knee. Just…you know…we wanted you to know how important it is for you to go through with this proposal.

My eyebrows popped up. You thought I would chicken out?

You’re not exactly the most assertive man, Father said and swigged the last of his drink.

And we didn’t want you to use going to Kalopsia as a way out of asking her to marry you, Mother supplied.

It might seem like an exciting adventure with exotic women throwing themselves at you, but it’s not, Father said.

I didn’t know what to feel. My parents thought I would use Kalopsia as an excuse to run away. Until that point, I hadn’t even wanted to go to Kalopsia. I liked my life. Other people might see it as monotonous, but it was my life, and it suited me fine.

Marrying Clarissa was the next logical step in our relationship, and I had never once thought about using this summons to Kalopsia as an excuse to break-up. If anything, having a royal title and a place in the royal court would actually make Clarissa more inclined to marry me.

Women will throw themselves at you, Mother said. Gold diggers, only after you for your money and your position. We know how…soft…you can be and we wouldn’t consider ourselves doing our parental duty if we didn’t protect you however we could.

And so you will deny me the title and the place in the royal court unless I am married? I still couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with them.

If you and Clarissa are engaged, then that will be good enough, Father said as if he was extending me an olive branch and bending the rules for me.

The word no bubbled up in my throat. I wanted to stand and walk out and tell them to…tell them to…

I sighed and slumped in my chair. Who was I kidding? I’d never stood up to my parents ever, and I wouldn’t be doing it now either. I hated conflict and although it made them see me as weak, I would much rather keep the peace than deal with their tantrums if I defied them.

With the possibility of the trip to Kalopsia being taken away from me, I discovered that I really wanted to go. I’d never been away from the influence of my family for more than a few days at a time. Even when I attended college, I lived at home. Now I had the opportunity to go to a whole other country, away from them and their disappointed looks, and I wanted it more than I’d wanted anything else in my life.

If I had to be engaged to Clarissa to make it happen, then that was what I would be.

I smoothed my tie and buttoned my suit coat before I knocked on the door and waited. Clarissa lived by herself in an 1880s antique colonial in Dover, just minutes from Wellesley. The house had whimsical yellow siding and dark shutters and didn’t really suit Clarissa in the slightest. But it was a gift to her from her parents, so she didn’t complain about it too much. I knew she would have preferred something in Boston proper, and no doubt she had plans to sell the house after a suitable time so as not to offend her parents, and buy something more to her tastes. Although, as I stood back and took in the beautifully appointed house, I couldn’t help thinking it would be a delightful family home.

I froze at the thought. I was proposing to Clarissa, sure, but having a family together? I didn’t think I was ready for that quite yet.

The door opened, startling me out of my imminent panic. I leaned forward to brush a kiss on Clarissa’s proffered cheek and then handed her the bouquet I’d picked up earlier from the florist.

Oh, these are lovely, she said as she ushered me inside.

I followed her through the house to the recently renovated kitchen and watched