Wrong Prince, Right Lover Read online

  Wrong Prince, Right Lover

  Christine Glover

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 Christine Glover

  Cover by: First Impressions Covers

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For information about subsidiary rights contact the author via her website.

  www.christineglover.com

  Discover all of Christine’s future releases by signing up for her non-spammy newsletter.

  ISBN: 978-0998111339

  For everyone who believes in Happily Ever Afters

  and

  fairy tale lovers!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Also by Christine

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “You’re clinging to old-fashioned tradition,” Santiago de la Fuente said, reiterating his ongoing argument with his older brother about how to develop their country’s dwindling economy. “Javier, we can’t rely on tourism and our citrus farm exports as our primary financial resources.” Not to mention taxing the crap out of Valdoria’s citizens to provide the royal family with the lifestyle they enjoyed.

  He’d had enough. But as the heir to the throne, Santiago waged a futile battle with his brother.

  Once they’d merely been rivals who vied for their parents’ attention, but now he owed Javier his allegiance regardless of his personal opinions. His brother had been crowned King a year ago after their father’s heart attack. And though his father had supported Santiago’s ongoing efforts to modernize Valdoria’s economy by enticing high-tech companies to their country, Javier never agreed with Santiago’s proposals.

  As soon as he’d ascended to the throne, King Javier the Jerk had reassigned Santiago to ceremonial activities.

  If he had been the firstborn, perhaps people would fucking listen to him, but extreme factions in the court’s council believed Javier had all the answers. And if he’d been first born, he might have had a chance to act on his desire for Javier’s fiancée. But Ilsa van Winnsen had been promised to his older brother in an arranged marriage forged between their warring nations in an effort to broker peace between them a generation ago.

  Javier flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his crisp tailored suit’s sleeve. “You’ve made your point numerous times, but as long as I’m ruling this country, I will follow in our father’s footsteps. And heed the counsel of our country’s top advisors.” He reached for his official Royal Seal and pressed it into wax, then stamped another decree. “You have a new hospital wing to christen today. Focus on your duties to our country. Perhaps that will show you why I do so.”

  His jaw ached and hammers whacked the inside of his skull. Frustration coursed through his veins, making his head pound. “Your advisors are antiquated. I prefer saving my country from becoming an impoverished nation to cutting ribbons.” Santiago pushed out of the high-backed leather chair and threw his hands up in the air. “Tell your fiancée to go in my place. Ilsa’s the epitome of the word dutiful.” The Menkaran Princess had been groomed to be Valdoria’s next queen from the day she’d been born. Another old-fashioned tradition Santiago has wanted to kick to the curb two years ago when he realized he was attracted to the willowy blonde with brains and a heart to match her looks.

  “Our countries have benefited by our engagement.” Javier withdrew another document from his scrolled wooden box. “After I marry her, peace will be assured.”

  God. His brother didn’t call his fiancée Ilsa by her name. Santiago shook his head. “Do have any affection at all for Ilsa? Do you even like her?”

  “She’s an intelligent woman with her head on straight. I respect her immensely.”

  “Respect isn’t love.”

  “I don’t need to love her to do the right thing.” Javier pressed another royal seal on a new document. “Now that I’m Valdoria’s ruling monarch, I understand how important this arrangement is for our country.”

  Santiago shuddered inwardly. He might crave the regal power to drag Valdoria into the next century… hell, into this century would be a great start… but not with a marriage of convenience chained around his neck. He’d never sacrifice his freedom to choose someone who actually cared about him for all the scepters in the world. The irony wasn’t wasted on him. He wanted the one woman he couldn’t have and his brother had no interest in her whatsoever.

  His throat constricted. Javier didn’t deserve Ilsa. The arranged marriage had been the only reason he’d gotten her. No. He refused to let the resentment bottling in his chest override attaining his goal. He had to let this insane desire go, or it’d destroy any chance he had of creating a different future for Valdoria. “What’s important for our country is enticing new industry to come here. They’ll bring jobs, import new brain power, and make us leaders in the high-tech world,” Santiago said. “What’s not important is continuing to force people into roles they’d never play if given a choice. We’re not leaders. We’re pawns. I, for one, don’t want our next generation to undergo what’s about to happen to you.” And Ilsa. He couldn’t imagine how horrible her country’s decision had been for her. If only things had been different. Then when he’d spend one night talking with her at another royal function, he’d have been able to act on his attraction.

  He’d lived through how well an arranged marriage hadn’t worked out with the unbearably tense civility between his parents. They’d been bound by duty and nothing more. Talk about a loveless union.

  His brother held the family’s crest seal above another document. “You certainly don’t live up to any of Valdoria’s expectations.”

  “They’re your expectations. I refuse to give up fighting for what I believe in. You know our father had green-lighted my proposal to offer incentives to Pinnacle Industries, but you’re too caught up in playing King to give my proposal a chance.”

  The seal trembled slightly before Javier pushed it onto the document. “And you’re too caught up in chasing the wrong solution for our country. I will not allow you to shirk your duties without consequences.” He straightened, tugged his suit’s sleeves one by one and exposed the solid gold cufflinks. The royal family’s embossed emblem caught the sunlight filtering in through the window behind Javier’s desk. “I’m too busy to deal with your tantrum. I’ve got a country to run and a wedding in nine days. Go now.”

  “This discussion isn’t over.”

  “Do not push me little brother.”

  Roiling heat churned in his belly. He fisted his hands. Javier’s condescending tone made him want to circle the desk, punch the pompous ass, and wipe the smug look off his face. Instead, he unfurled his fingers, grabbed his suit jacket, then swung it over his shoulder in a smooth, precise movement. “I will do everything in my power to save Valdoria from your lousy leadership.”

  He turned around and made his way to the office door without waiting for another bullshit supercilious remark from Javier, his anger and frustration shooting pain into his temples. “God damned selfish prick,” he said, massaging his head’s drummin
g pulse, blind to his surroundings until he reached the double mahogany doors.

  Jerking them open, he forced himself to look at his brother one last time. “If you won’t listen to reason, then I’ll find another way to make my proposal a reality. I’ll bring Valdoria out of the dark ages with or without you in the picture.”

  He cruised through the doors, slamming them on his way out, only to discover Ilsa standing in the reception room with a portfolio clutched to her chest.

  “You know it’s not too late to call this crazy marriage off,” he said when he reached her.

  Ilsa blinked rapidly, and she shook her head. “I can’t back out now,” she said. “Not after what I discovered.”

  Her blue eyes gleamed bright, a stark contrast to her pale cheeks. Something major had shaken her up enough to bring her to Javier’s office, but the tears threatening to fall concerned him more. How much of his argument with Javier had she overheard? “Nothing is set in stone.” He held her gaze… the depth of emotion swimming in the aquamarine irises mesmerizing. He could get lost in those eyes. “You don’t have to marry a man who doesn’t love you, Ilsa.”

  She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “The last thing I want to do is marry a man who clearly has no affection for me,” she said.

  Her voice was steady, low-pitched. Gone was the vulnerable woman he’d nearly mowed down moments ago. She’d been replaced by someone with steely determination and single-minded resolve. Amazing. Perfect. Unattainable. “But you’ll marry him just the same,” he said. “Why?”

  “Because the pact has a secret codicil,” she said. “We delayed the war, but we didn’t stop it. The negotiations specifically state that the war will resume should we not get married. The Menkaran military is poised to attack Valdoria to reclaim their former territory.”

  “That’s crazy. What would they gain by acting on the codicil?”

  “They believe regaining ownership of the citrus groves and beautiful beaches and everything else you believe are worthless to Valdoria will pay our country’s increasing debt. However, I’d rather see our countries bound by a loveless marriage than destroyed by a pointless war.” Ilsa squared her shoulders and raised her chin a fraction higher, holding his gaze with ice-blue eyes. “Whether you like it or not, I will be your Queen.”

  His stomach knotted and the pressure building in his chest intensified. His brother didn’t have an ounce of feeling for Ilsa, other than respect. The idea of her spending the rest of her life with Javier renewed his frustration. He wanted her but couldn’t have her simply because he’d been born second in line and she’d been used as a pawn in their family’s political machinations.

  Santiago moved a little closer to Ilsa, took a breath and inhaled her scent… an intoxicating mixture of strawberries and vanilla. Beneath her frosty exterior, there existed a temptingly sweet woman. A woman he’d love to taste.

  And a forbidden temptation.

  He tilted his head toward the doors leading to Javier’s office. “My brother is a lucky man,” Santiago said, then stepped back and walked away without looking back.

  * * *

  Ilsa stood on the riser in front of three full-length mirrors while her seamstress completed her alterations on her vintage-inspired wedding gown. The off-the-shoulder neckline revealed her delicate collarbone, then the fabric cinched in at the waist with a satin bow and draped down to the floor in folds of gauzy chiffon.

  “Lovely, Ilsa,” her mother said from one of the upholstered chairs in the dressing room. “You were right to hold your ground about the dress.”

  Ilsa suppressed a smile. Gloating wasn’t in her nature. But yes. She’d been right to choose the classic dress versus the ridiculous confection of tulle and fluff touted as the perfect princess cut. The gown she’d chosen had been the only thing she’d had control over throughout her betrothal. “Yes, I’m pleased with the final result,” she said. The gown managed to be simultaneously classic and modern, glamorous and… alluring… sexy…

  She shook the thoughts out of her head. Sexiness didn’t matter anymore, but she’d hoped…

  Unfortunately, Javier would never see her as anything other than a means to an end. Now her wedding night loomed rather than exciting her.

  “That should do it, Your Highness.” Her seamstress extended a hand to help Ilsa step off the riser. “I’ll begin the final alterations immediately after you change out your gown. You’ll be a vision.”

  Her pulse kicked up, making her insides tremble. In eight days, she’d become Javier’s wife and the future queen of Valdoria in two weeks after the ceremony according to the country’s traditions. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t discovered the codicil and learned about the warships preparing for a battle she knew would deal the final blow to her country’s waning fortunes.

  Ilsa schooled her features into a calm facade, unwilling to betray the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. “All thanks to you,” she said. “You transformed my vision into reality.”

  “The King won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” Her mother stood and crossed the floor to clasp Ilsa’s shoulders. “You’ll be a wonderful queen, my dear. Our countries will flourish under your and Javier’s reign.”

  A lump lodged in her throat. If only her mother could see her as a person instead of as a monarch. “I will do my best to make it so,” she said. Much like Javier. He’d canceled their honeymoon trip when she’d told him about the codicil. Currently, he remained huddled with his royal cabinet to discuss her coronation event.

  “I’m confident you will.” Her mother kissed Ilsa’s cheeks one by one before releasing her shoulders. “Go. Your maid is waiting. And I’ve got to round up the rest of our family to get ready for dinner with the Queen Mother.”

  Her mother left the salon and Ilsa swallowed hard, pushing away the threatening tears. Not only would she marry a man who had no interest in her as a woman, but she’d also say goodbye to her family… to her life.

  In a little over one week, she’d leave behind everything she’d secretly dreamed of having one day, despite her duty to her country.

  “Will that be all, Your Highness?” her seamstress said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Yes. My maid will bring you the dress shortly.”

  Holding her skirt off the ground, Ilsa made her way to her dressing room. The delicate chiffon heavy, instead of light in her hand. It’s not too late… nothing is set in stone… Santiago’s words whispered again… just as his handsome face with those dark eyes holding her gaze with burning intensity flashed in her mind, stirring rebellion and more.

  Easy enough to squash the rebellion—she’d had years of practice pressing down her desire to liberate herself from this marriage obligation. But the more? The unfamiliar yearning sending tingles along her nerves? Not so much.

  If only Javier had wanted to act on the tingles he’d inspired.

  Tingles don’t save countries. Suppressing a sigh, Ilsa stepped into the dressing room where her maid quickly assisted her with removing the dress, then hurried away.

  “Alone at last,” Ilsa said to the monochromatic cream-colored walls as she selected her outfit for the wedding rehearsal which would be followed by a private dinner.

  Every dress screamed vanilla. Plain. Practical. But then, her mother had overseen every detail of her public wardrobe, selecting muted tones covering the gamut from off-white to black. Not a single stitch of color in the conservatively cut clothing which had been chosen to attire Ilsa properly for her role as Valdoria’s next queen.

  At least she’d been able to order her own lingerie to spice up their wedding night and all the nights afterward. Too bad Javier didn’t want her that way.

  A hollow feeling settled low. Ilsa would spend the rest of her life married to a man who had no interest in her emotionally or physically. Even now, the words she’d overheard Javier say to his brother shot pain behind her sternum. Resolutely, she pushed the satin covered hangers, before pulling out a striped pencil skirt and cou
pling it with a taupe blouse.

  Slipping off her robe, she heard her maid call, “Your Highness. You cannot go in there.”

  “I’ll do what I damn well please,” Santiago said, striding into the room and closing the door behind him.

  Adrenaline shot through her system and her pulse thundered in her ears. What on earth could he have been thinking to come into her dressing room unannounced? “This is unacceptable.” Ilsa dropped the clothing she’d selected, then struggled to readjust her robe. “Javier will be furious if he finds out you--” Her fingers shook, making it difficult to knot the satin belt.

  He placed his hand over hers, stopping her frantic movements. “Ilsa,” Santiago said. “Look at me. Please.”

  Heat flashed across her cheeks and fired through her skin where his large hand touched hers. “You must get out of here before Javier…”

  “Ilsa,” he said. “There’s been an accident.”

  His voice was strangely devoid of emotion. She’d never heard him so dispassionate. Ilsa raised her head, then took in his disheveled dark hair, the red lines in the whites of his eyes, and his clenched jaw.

  Her blood ran cold and turned to sludge in her veins. Santiago wouldn’t barge his way into her dressing room unless… “Where’s Javier?” she asked through numb lips, rocking slightly back.

  Santiago took her other hand, holding her gaze. “He passed out and fell down a flight of stairs in the east wing after meeting with the cabinet members,” he said. “His neck snapped halfway down. The royal physician did everything he could, but…”

  Her knees buckled and air whooshed through her ears. “He’s dead?” she asked, gripping Santiago’s hands to steady herself. “But that’s impossible. I spoke with him this morning. He can’t be dead. We’re supposed to get married next week. When… when did this happen?” She couldn’t stop the rising hysteria in her voice, nor could she take a full breath, unable to comprehend the enormity of their loss.