Leopold: Part Four Read online

  Finally, I can’t take it any longer.

  “What do you think?” I ask her.

  She turns slowly back toward me. Her lips open and close, and her gaze floats around the room once more before coming to rest on me again.

  “I’m sure you’ve impressed a lot of women with this plane,” she says finally.

  I take a careful step forward. “I don’t want to talk about other women, Elle. What do you think?”

  She glances over at the sofa. “I’ve never been on a plane like this before. It’s interesting.”

  Interesting. In most circumstances, that would hardly be considered an insult, but I refuse to let her see how much the word stings me. Her face still hasn’t betrayed a hint of emotion, and I take another step forward.

  “Out of curiosity,” she says, “how many women have you had on this plane?”

  This is not a line of questioning I intend to let her pursue.

  “There is only one woman I’m interested in right now, Elle,” I tell her, taking another step forward. “And I don’t intend to talk about anyone else today.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she says. “You can’t just show me your fancy plane and give me roses and expect me to forget about who you are or that you’ve done this for a hundred women before me.”

  Another step. “That’s not my expectation at all. I’m giving you these things simply because I want to. Because you deserve to be treated to a day of luxury. You spend your entire life giving to other people—your patients, your brother, your past lovers—and yet you refuse to let anyone give anything to you.”

  She frowns. “It’s too much. I’m not the sort of girl who needs roses and champagne.”

  “Nobody needs those things.” Another step. “And that’s exactly why I want you to have them. They’re purely frivolous. Things to have and enjoy entirely for the pleasure of having and enjoying them.”

  I’ve reached the closet, and I stop, reaching out to the door. Perhaps it is too much to keep lavishing her with gifts—considering she’s resistant to accept something as simple as roses—but on the other hand, I refuse to let her act like she doesn’t deserve these things. I pull open the closet door.

  Inside are several of my suits—and a full tuxedo, in case I should find one necessary—but there are also several dresses of various lengths and materials, everything from a simple black silk cocktail dress to a silver beaded gown. Each one is of the highest quality, custom made to fit her.

  “Today,” I tell her, “I want you to experience what it’s like to be pampered. To allow yourself to accept extravagant gifts simply because they’re extravagant. To indulge yourself. And to allow someone else to indulge you.”

  Her mouth has fallen open at the sight of the dresses, but when she sees me watching her, her lips snap shut again. For the briefest of moments, I see something in her eyes—but I cannot tell what it is.

  She spins away from the closet—and me.

  I slide the closet door closed again, worried. I knew I would have a difficult time convincing Elle to accept these things from me, but a part of me still hoped for a different response. I take a deep breath. This is not how these things normally go. But then again, Elle is so very different from anyone I’ve ever dated before. What do I do now?

  Before I can respond to her, Matthias enters the cabin.

  “Everything should be ready for our departure, Your Highness,” he says. “Have we decided where we’re headed this evening?”

  “Not yet.” I turn back to Elle. “I wanted today to be all about you, Elle, so I took the liberty of making dinner reservations at several places across the country and thought I’d allow you to choose. So which will it be? Miami? Los Angeles? New York? We also have hor d’oeuvres here on the plane to tide us over until we arrive at our destination.”

  She’s standing in front of the roses again, and she reaches out and brushes her fingers against one of the crimson petals.

  “I…” She pauses. “I don’t want to go back to Los Angeles. There are too many reporters there.”

  “Perfectly fair,” I tell her.

  She doesn’t say anything else for a long moment, just continues to study the rose in front of her as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

  Finally, she looks back at me and says, “I’ve never been to New York.”

  I feel a smile spread across my lips. “New York it is, then.” I glance at Matthias. “Please tell Captain Smythe that we’re ready to be on our way.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Matthias says with a smile.

  As he heads toward the pilot’s cabin, I turn back to Elle. “Matthias has his own private room at the front of the plane, so we’ll have plenty of privacy during the flight.” I close the distance between us again. “Elle, I know you don’t feel like you need such gifts, but—”

  “But they’re part of the royal date experience, right?” she says, turning fully to face me again. “So if I’m to get the full experience, I should just roll with it?”

  “I…well, that is certainly the spirit.”

  She gives a small nod, as if making up her mind about something, and her lips curl up into a slow smile. “Okay, then. I guess I can live with that for one day.”

  “I certainly hope you’ll do more than just live with them—”

  “I’ll enjoy them,” she says. “I’ll indulge, as you so eloquently put it.”

  In spite of my reservations, I find my mouth turning up into a smile that mirrors hers. “Good.” I reach around her and grab the bottle of champagne. “Shall we have a toast?”

  Before she can respond, the plane begins to vibrate as the engines come to life.

  “Maybe after we take off,” she says, still smiling.

  “Of course.” I grab the champagne flutes as well. “I recommend sitting in one of the chairs and buckling yourself in. This is the finest in luxury aircraft, but you will always experience a little turbulence during takeoff in a plane of this size.”

  She nods and walks over to one of the luxurious padded seats. I take the chair next to hers and stow the champagne safely in the compartment beside me.

  A few minutes later, when we’re safely in the air, I pull them out again.

  “Would you care for a glass?” I ask her as I pop the cork.

  Something sparkles in her eyes. “Why not?”

  I smile and pour us each a glass. Perhaps she’s only humoring me, but her response gives me hope. Maybe by the end of today, she’ll see it’s not so terrible a thing to accept a gift or to treat herself to something lavish. To me, she is worth every one of these luxuries—worth more than these luxuries, truth be told.

  “Before we do anything else, I want to thank you, Elle,” I say.

  She glances over at me in surprise. “Thank me?”

  “For allowing me this chance.”

  My gaze locks on hers, but even though her eyes darken slightly, she’s still guarded.

  “We both needed some closure,” she says slowly. “It seemed like an opportunity to have one last hurrah so we can both move on with our lives.”

  I frown. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear, Elle. I’m here because I have no desire to move on with my life.”

  She breaks my gaze and gives a bitter laugh. “Stop with the bullshit, Leo. I know you’ve been with other women since me. The whole world knows. You can’t say things like that and expect me to believe them. Not anymore.”

  “Elle, there’s been no one else—”

  “Except that little blond actress everyone’s been drooling over, or that supermodel who just scored that big lingerie campaign—” She cuts off abruptly. Her cheeks redden slightly as she seems to realize that she’s accidentally admitted she’s been paying very close attention to my romantic life these past few months. “Look, Leo. You have every right to sleep with whoever you want, whenever you want. But please don’t come in here and lie to me about it. Give me that much.”

  “I’ll admit there was a
time, shortly after we parted, when I tried to occupy myself with other women,” I say. “But I never slept with any of them, Elle.”

  “You didn’t sleep with any of them?” She doesn’t look the least bit convinced. “Even the lingerie model?”

  “Not even the lingerie model,” I say. “Yes, I took them out. Yes, I kissed them. I even went home with a couple of them—but I couldn’t go through with it. Something always stopped me.” I think about that encounter with Lady Karina—the one encounter I was certain would cure me of my madness—then shake my head.

  She freezes with her champagne glass at her lips, watching me closely. “What stopped you?”

  “You know the answer to that, Elle,” I say, dropping my voice and leaning toward her. “You did. I couldn’t get you out of my head. Whenever I went on a date with another woman, I could only think about how I wanted to be out with you. Whenever I kissed another woman, I could only think about how I wanted to be kissing you. Whenever I went home with a woman—”

  She throws up a hand. “Stop. I don’t need to hear this.”

  I gently push her hand aside. “Actually, you do. There were nights when I fully intended to sleep with other women. Nights when I thought that drowning myself in pleasure was the only way to escape the thought of you. You don’t understand what you do to me, Elle. You haunted me, no matter what I did.” My hand is still on hers, and I curl my fingers around hers. “I had a woman stretched out in front of me on the floor, completely naked and begging me to take her, and even though I told myself to do it, told myself it was the only way to move on, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

  She pulls her hand out of mine. “You seem to have a habit of abandoning naked women.”

  “That’s not…” Bloody hell, this isn’t how I meant this to come out at all. “Elle, my point is that I looked at her—this beautiful woman who was begging me to do all manner of things to her—and I felt absolutely nothing. I don’t just mean emotionally—I mean physically, too. My brain was telling me I should want her, telling me she was exactly the sort of woman I should want, but I was paralyzed. If it had been you on that floor, you begging me—”

  “I don’t want to hear this.” She puts her glass on the table and tugs at her seatbelt. The moment she’s free, she springs out of her chair. “If your goal for this day is to upset me or insult me, then you’re doing a pretty damn good job. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you just shut up about this.”

  Fuck me, I’ve made it even worse. How did this happen? I’m saying all the wrong things, tripping over my tongue trying to explain to this woman how I feel about her. This isn’t like me at all.

  And then it hits me.

  “You’re jealous,” I hear myself say.

  “I most definitely am not.”

  “But you are.” I’m grinning again as I undo my seatbelt and rise. “Just like you were with those teenage girls back in Santa Monica—”

  “I’m not jealous,” she insists, but the color of her cheeks says otherwise. “And you are enjoying this way too much.”

  “I’m not enjoying this,” I say, even though we both know that’s a lie. “Elle.” I take her by the shoulders and look her in the eyes. “I assure you, you have nothing to be jealous of.”

  She purses her lips, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

  “There is nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you,” I say. “All other women pale in comparison to you.”

  “There you go, being cheesy again,” she says, shaking her head. “Can I give you a tip, Leo?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t talk about having sex with other women when you’re on a date.”

  “Once again, in my defense, there was no sex—”

  “Then don’t talk about almost having sex. Or kissing. Or whatever it was that you did.” She gives me a wry look. “Really, Your Highness, I would have expected you to know better. You’re the self-proclaimed dating expert, after all.”

  “I never called myself that.”

  Something of the sparkle is back in her eyes. “But you did promise to sweep me off my feet. And if this was what you meant—”

  “Point taken,” I say. “It was a classless move on my part. I apologize.”

  Her eyes widen in feigned shock. “What’s this? Prince Leopold is apologizing? And admitting he’s not an expert in seduction—”

  “I never said that, either.”

  Her lips spread into a full grin. “Really, it’s a good thing I came along. Someone needs to call you on your bullshit more often. To help keep you honest, of course.”

  To keep me honest.

  If I were honest, I’d tell her I have her passport in my pocket. If I were honest, I never would have run away from her in the first place.

  “How’s this for honesty?” I say, pulling her close. “I’m going to give you the best day of your life.”

  Elle

  There’s something about the tone of his voice that’s making warning bells ring in my head. It’s not that I don’t want to believe him—I do. Sort of. I think. But the way he’s saying things is making me think he might have more than a weekend fling in mind.

  I look into his eyes for a moment, trying almost desperately to read whatever it is behind them. I don’t know what he’s up to, but the warning bells don’t seem to be from the bullshit meter this time. There’s something else going on—something I’m missing.

  I let out a long breath. “Leo, I haven’t seen you in three months. And I’ve spent a lot of time working on this stuff. Many hours of…” Therapy. Yeah, this is probably not the time to bring that particular issue up.

  “Misery.” He tries to finish my sentence. “I know, Elle. I can’t begin to describe the empty feeling I was left with myself. And I realize now that it was my mistake—that my choice to leave may have impacted the rest of my life. And I truly want you to know how grateful I am for the second chance—”

  “It’s not a second chance, Leo. I already said this is only for the weekend…” I’m not sure where the emotion is coming from exactly, but my eyes fill with tears. I turn away from him, stepping toward another of the chairs. I grip the back of it and close my eyes.

  This is not how this weekend was supposed to go. I was supposed to get a head start on my trip to Oklahoma for my interview. I was going to stop in New Mexico and see if it might be somewhere I would want to live after my next contract is done. I was going to have a nice, slow trip and only have to drive six or seven hours a day—I was going to enjoy the trip this time, not having anything to run from for the first time in so long. I wasn’t supposed to find myself on some stupid private jet on the way to New York City with Prince Leopold. And I definitely wasn’t supposed to be hearing him tell me that I’m supposed to learn to want to be spoiled by his ridiculous luxuries that I don’t need or want or…deserve.

  Fuck.

  I’ve spent so much time trying to work through this stuff. And I know it didn’t take me three months to become as fucked up in the head as I am—and I know it’s going to take me a hell of a lot longer than three months to get unfucked up, if that’s even possible. But having Leo standing here, telling me things that sound like lies to get me to… Hell, I don’t even know what he’s trying to do. I thought at first he was trying to get in my pants again, but he’s already been in my pants—he has an all-access pass to my pants—so none of this makes much sense.

  I turn back to him and take in a long breath, though it does little to cover up the shaking in my voice. “What is your objective here?”

  His brow furrows and something flashes in his eyes. “Sorry?”

  “The point… What is the point of all of this? Your end goal?”

  He smiles, though I can see he’s trying to hide something. Pain, perhaps, though I have my doubts. I fail to see how me calling him out on his bullshit could possibly injure him. I know he doesn’t like me questioning him at all, but I don’t like anything about this.

  “Ah
, is this the ‘how does this end’ question again? Because my answer this time is quite different than it was in California, Elle. It is much more hopeful than it was the last time we were together.”

  The only thing I can do is shake my head. I don’t really want to hear whatever it is he has to say—I don’t want to hear about how I’ve changed his life for the better. And something about the way he’s looking at me is telling me he’s expecting me to pour my heart out to him.

  He turns back to the closet across the plane from where I’m standing. “You really should put on one of the gowns, Elle. I promise I won’t watch.” He grins. “Unless you want me to.”

  My glare is the only response I give him.

  But his grin doesn’t fade. “I think you might feel more comfortable—”

  My gaze narrows even further. “If I’m out of my clothes? No thanks.” I motion toward the closet. “How do you even know those things will fit me?”

  He grins again. “I’d like to tell you it was me, but alas… Technology is quite amazing these days, Elle. Even a single photograph is enough for my tailors to make you anything of your choosing, custom fit to your body. And you provided plenty of photographs during our stay together a few months ago.”

  My cheeks burn—I had purposely not watched any television shows or looked at any of the tabloids from around that time. I still can’t stand the thought of having people look at me like that.

  Leo takes another step toward me, boxing me into the corner of the seating area. He reaches out to pull my hand into his again. “Elle…”

  I look up into his eyes again—I have this need to see something there. I want to be able to read the lies. I’m searching desperately for something—anything—to tell me I’m right not to trust him.

  But there’s nothing there. Whatever it is he’s feeling seems to be completely genuine, at least to him.

  He pulls my hand into his again, and his touch sends a thrill of electricity up my arm. He seems to sense it—or maybe he feels it, too—and he takes another step toward me until he’s standing right in front of me.