CHAPTER NINE
Bailey
The loud pounding sound kept repeating over and over. Whoever it was needed to stop. It was too early. Bailey had no idea what time it was, but she’d just gone to bed, after all.
“Ms. Parker.” The rapping continued and Bailey’s foggy brain registered it was the door. Someone was knocking on her door. She had a visitor.
Duncan lifted his head, gave a single, deep woof, and went back to sleep.
“A lot of help you are,” she muttered.
More rapping. Louder that time. “Ms. Parker, please.”
“Coming.” Stifling a groan, she rolled out of bed and shrugged into her bathrobe. She checked the peephole. An older gentleman with sandy hair stood outside. Oh my God. Jenson. It was Jenson.
“Jenson? What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Bailey did her best to try to make her voice sound deeper and hopefully intimidating. Of course, since her voice was too high pitched most of the time, she failed. She managed to sound like a little kid playing grown-up.
“Forgive the intrusion. I know you think you know me. My name is Jenson Keats, but I am not the man you’ve been working with.”
She gripped the doorknob tighter. “What are you talking about?”
Jenson cleared his throat. “If you’ll permit me to slide an envelope under the door, you may see for yourself.”
Bailey stared through the peephole. He didn’t seem like he could hurt anything, but appearances could be deceiving. On the other hand, if she didn’t find out what he had in the envelope at least, she’d never know.
“Tell me who it’s from first.”
Jenson grimaced. “Perhaps you’d better just read it.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Send it over.”
There was the brief scratching sound of paper on tile before a cream envelope appeared at Bailey’s feet. Bending down, she snatched it up and opened the letter.
Dear Ms. Parker,
As you have been so inclined as to employ my grandson for such a time, I thought perhaps we might discuss recent events. My servant, Jenson Keats, will escort you to Florico via private plane. You would then, of course, be my guest at the Winter Palace for as long as you desire.
Sincerely,
HRM Queen Vanessa of Florico
Bailey stared at the letter, the wheels in her mind spinning. “Is this some kind of joke? I don’t know who you think you are—”
“Tell me you’ve checked your phone recently? Social media?” Jenson’s voice carried through the door.
“I’ve been sleeping. You woke me up.”
“I am very sorry, but perhaps you might check your phone. Hopefully, at that point, you’ll feel so inclined as to open your front door and invite me in.”
She grabbed her phone and pressed the power button. Several moments later, the dings began. Dozens of texts from Windsor, news hits, tweets, and more popped up in her notifications window. Then the emails began. Ding! Ding! Ding! The sounds fought with one another as her overloaded mailbox made itself known.
She bypassed all of it in favor of a Google Alert for Bailey Parker Designs. The headline read Bailey Parker and Her Secret Prince. Her finger poised in midair, she forced herself to move it forward and press the link.
The related article displayed in an instant.
Newswire—Florico City
June 15
When Stan Steinhauer, president of Windsor Spas, hired a graphic designer to redesign his logo and tagline, he never imagined the response he’d receive from the public. “We did what a lot of businesses do. We researched and hired a design firm.” In this case, the firm they chose was Bailey Parker Designs, a boutique graphic design firm based in New York and run by a creative of the same name.
“We never imagined that our new commercial would have the impact it has. Our entire business model has shifted. Our stock has quadrupled.”
The initial buzz was generated all because of the typeface used in the design. The “Royal” typeface became an instant hit with popular twitter account @BadAssTypophile and his 75k followers. These people take love of type to a new level.
“But what really changed the game is when Bailey told us she subcontracted her font work. She provided us with the person’s name because we wanted to thank him or her, but she had no other information. Initially, we had no luck finding him, until everything came together. That’s when we learned that Bailey had been subcontracting her work to royalty!”
Many are speculating about why Asher Tarrington, the crown prince of Florico, would take a job in the first place. Is it finances? The need for distraction after his parents’ deaths? The only thing we all know for sure is that the world is going to be keeping a close eye on Prince Asher and his boss, Ms. Bailey Parker.
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“Oh my God,” Bailey said to the empty room. Her attention homed in on Prince Asher’s picture. That was the man she’d been employing for months?
“Look out your window.”
Bailey jumped when Jenson spoke from the other side of the door. She’d almost forgotten about him. With slow steps, she crossed the room and raised one corner of a single slat on the mini-blinds covering her living room window.
Dozens of people were in the street outside her building. They all had cameras and phones. There was even a police line.
She crossed the room, flicked all five deadbolts, and swung the door open. On the other side stood an older man, dressed in a navy suit. His sandy-blond hair had been cropped close and combed. His blue eyes twinkled as he held out his hand. “Jenson Keats, Ms. Parker.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bailey frowned. “Do I curtsy or something?”
Jenson laughed. “Not to me. I am only a servant. When you meet The Queen, however, a curtsy would be most appropriate.”
Duncan woofed from his supine position, but otherwise didn’t move.
Bailey shook her head. “So this is true. All of it? Everything I just read? My employee, Jenson, was . . . is Prince Asher?”
“Yes, ma’am. That is correct. I encouraged him to use my name . . . for stealth purposes.”
Bailey suppressed a snort. “So he’s been lying to me this entire time.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, but it did nothing to dull the pain that slammed into her, the hurt which came from being tricked.
Jenson frowned. “I’m afraid so, miss.”
“I don’t appreciate being lied to.” Bailey paced into her kitchen, her anger growing with each step. “This must have all been some big joke to him.” It was that idea—the notion Bailey had been played—which upset her the most. She’d counted on him. She’d considered him a friend.
She’d even let herself hope, at times, that there’d been more between them.
Jenson gestured to her desk chair. “May I?” He took a seat when she nodded. “I can assure you, Ms. Parker, that this is far from a joke. The prince, however, should be the one to explain. If you’ll only come with me.”
“Why would I go anywhere with you? I’ve been lied to. Manipulated. Made a laughingstock in my own field.” Asher might be seriously hot and her country’s prince, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be linked to a playboy. “Besides, who will take care of my dog?”
“I’ve taken the liberty of finding a lovely kennel for your companion here, and, well, you certainly aren’t going to be able to leave your apartment if you stay.” Jenson gestured to the throng outside. “Not until things calm down, anyway.”
Bailey blew her hair out of her eyes in a huff. He was right. She needed to break some bad habits and actually leave her apartment. Get out into the world. She couldn’t do that with her fan club outside.
It wasn’t like she’d been left with much of a choice. Stay and be hounded by hordes of photographers waiting to catch a glimpse of her, or go spend time in the queen’s palace back home.
It was kind of a no-brainer.
“I’ll do it,” she said. “But only because staying in the palace will make it easier to kick Prince Asher’s ass.”