Chapter Six
Back at her studio apartment on the south side, Clara’s mind made cartwheels around Adrien’s disgusting proposal. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, which made her even angrier. On top of last night’s failure with Ging, she felt like drowning, like there really was no buoy to lift her anywhere. Even gorgeous lovers were disguised as traps.
But what a gorgeous lover. Despite all the anger and stewing, flickers of disbelief darted through her. Had she really spent the night in his arms? She’d give almost anything to spend another night with him—except her hand in marriage, that is. His unappealing proposal had eradicated almost all of his attractive qualities…but not all of them.
She tapped out a quick message to Katy, who had sent a friendly text sometime that morning during the waffle test.
My night was fine. But my morning was insane. I have a story for you, lady!
Tossing her phone aside, she shed her work clothes and grabbed her laptop. It was time for half-naked lounging and job hunting. Anything to unwind after the confusing events of the morning.
After checking e-mails, curiosity brewed. Was Adrien on social media? She hadn’t gotten his last name—but if he was worth so much money, it stood to reason that he’d be online somewhere. Maybe on Forbes 100 Richest or something. Hell, he might be number one if he had billions to play with.
What billionaire can’t find a throwaway wife and child-bearer? She scoffed as she typed in her Google search. Must be a pretty crappy billionaire if there isn’t a line of ladies waiting for him at this point.
Results flooded the screen. Simply typing “Adrien, Luxembourg, Billionaire” yielded thousands upon thousands of results. And there, at the top of the page, was Adrien’s smoldering face, eyes dark and commanding even on the laptop screen.
He was number three on Forbes’s Richest list.
She clicked through results, jaw dropping lower the more she read. The top results showcased an impressive track record with venture capitalism, and plenty of investments that hit it big in the tech world.
But the guy wasn’t just rich, he was royalty. And not pretend royalty, the kind in celeb mags or on television. The man was the honest-to-god sole heir of the crown of Luxembourg and had bucked the royal hierarchy from a young age by forging his own path and disavowing himself from the royal lineage.
Clara read through as much as she could find. The rabbit hole went deep. This was as good a crash course in Luxembourg economics as she could have found at a university. Apparently Luxembourg’s fragile economy leaned heavily on the belief that the monarchy could, and would, sustain any financial crisis with their monetary reserves, buried deep in some rolling hill in the south. The exact location of this reserve was unknown, which caused frequent robberies and covert attempts to uncover the treasure, which sounded more like 17th-century Europe than modern day.
Was this why Adrien needed to marry her—because of the treasure? She laughed. This was too ridiculous to be true…yet here it was, before her eyes. Adrien’s family portrait from 2001 stared back at her, the grandfather in the bust standing behind Adrien with his hands on his shoulders, unsmiling.
What kind of childhood did that guy have? She snapped her laptop shut, unable to turn her focus to the job hunt. Must have been pretty bad if Adrien was willing to jump ship and run away from the royal family. People didn’t just do that. Shit had to be bad in Luxembourg for him to come to San Francisco, of all places.
Whatever the truth was, she’d have to be content simply wondering. No matter how exotic, foreign, gorgeous, or funny the man was—and he was certainly all of those things, in a way she could barely articulate—he was officially out of her life. Forever.
Clara went to the kitchen to heat up a bowl of veggie soup she’d left in the fridge yesterday. As she waited for it to heat up in the microwave, her mind slid back to Adrien. The mischievous glint in his eyes as they’d fooled around for hours the night before. The sacred moment when he’d first pushed into her. The catch of his breath right before he came. She shook her head. Those memories might never leave her. And what would she do then?
The microwave dinged. Time to reintegrate to your regular life. No sexy billionaires here. Just vegetable soup and the job hunt.
As she settled on the couch to eat her soup, the doorbell downstairs rang. Expecting it to be a surprise “tell me everything that happened last night” visit from Katy, she moved toward the street-facing window of her apartment. Pushing it open with her free hand, she leaned outside, veggie soup in hand, and looked down at the front door.
Dark eyes gazed up at her. Adrien stood on the sidewalk, his face hopeful.
Her mouth fell open. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“How did you find out where I live?”
He shrugged, looking around. He waited until a pedestrian rounded the corner. “It wasn’t that hard. Can I come up?”
She furrowed her brow, a million different thoughts clanking together. If she were smart, she’d say no and shut the window and ignore anything else that came out of his mouth. But he looked so fucking tasty down there—his well-manicured veneer softer around the edges, something boyishly tempting in his simple jeans and button-up.
And then here she was—without pants and scarfing leftover vegetable soup. She gulped. No, he couldn’t come up here.
“You’re worth, like, a trillion dollars. You cannot come inside my apartment, okay?”
He looked troubled. “I’m not worth trillions. I already told you the amount.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, excuse my exaggeration. The point is, I’m busy and you can’t stop by to visit right now.”
“Well, when would be a better time?” Sunlight broke through passing clouds, illuminating him in an ethereal glow. She gulped. Luxembourg royalty, front and center.
“Never. I’m very busy all of the time.”
He cracked a grin, rubbing his neck. People stalled on the sidewalk, eyes darting between Adrien and her window. “I’d like to apologize to you. Properly. Please let me up.”
She met his gaze and then looked away. Those eyes of his could melt her resolve faster than anything else. But what was so wrong with an apology? Maybe she’d get another scorching kiss or two out of it…
“Just an apology?”
“I swear. None of that other stuff.” He peered up at her, squinting one eye against the sunlight.
Someone nearby yelled, “Just let him in already!” Among the hustle and bustle of the street, she couldn’t figure out who said it. In this neighborhood, it could have been anybody.
“Fine. I’ll buzz you in.”
She set her bowl of soup on the coffee table, nerves jittery as she headed for the buzzer. She wrung her hands, noticing all the parts of her apartment that would probably make him cringe: the disorganized desk area in the far corner, the mismatching wall hangings from her college days, the floor lamp with snaking, multicolored cones that looked like it came out of a kid’s bedroom.
Three firm knocks on the door and her breath evaporated. She hurried to the door, yanking it open. Adrien filled the doorway, eyes deep and dark, watching her steadily like he’d been here a thousand times before.
“Hello again.”
She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. A strange draft wafted past her thighs. Clara, you forgot to put on pants! She cleared her throat, ushering him in.
“Hello. I just realized I forgot to put on pants.”
“I wasn’t complaining.” He sauntered past, cocking a grin.
“You wouldn’t. Even princes like a half-naked girl.”
He turned sharply as she clicked the door shut. “What did you say?”
“I said, even princes like a half-naked girl.”
“What makes you think I’m a prince?” He fiddled with his watch, jaw clenching.
“Wikipedia.”
He leveled her with his gaze. “Are you serious?”
“What, are you saying you’re not a prince?”
He sighed tersely. “OK, so you found out.”
“Yeah, I sure did. Don’t act so surprised. A five-year-old could have Googled you and found out. It wasn’t that hard. Though the bust of your grandfather should have tipped me off.” She walked past him to the couch, gesturing toward the overstuffed sofa that had seen far better days. “Make yourself at home. As much as you can, at least. It’s no palace, that’s for sure.”
He didn’t move. “Please, don’t start.”
“What, with the royalty jokes?” She bit back a grin. “But you’re a gold mine for good jokes now. How do you expect me to refrain? Your Highness.”
When he didn’t laugh or even smile, her face fell. “OK, I won’t joke about that. But seriously, sit down. I’m waiting for your apology so you can leave.”
“You really want me gone that badly?” He fiddled with his watch again, moving toward the couch.
“I don’t know what I want, Adrien. All I know is that a little bit of peace and quiet will help me figure it out. I have to find a job. Like, yesterday. So that’s my priority. Nothing else.”
“I respect that.” He sat down on the couch, draping his arm across the back. He looked oddly congruous with the surroundings. Not as out of place as she might have imagined for an heir to a throne.
“Good.” She sat in the armchair facing the couch, tucking a bare leg under her. Remembering she’d taken her bra off too, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Clara, I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingertips as he watched her. “I ruined our amazing night with a really stupid idea. At the moment, it seemed like a wise choice. But it wasn’t. And I apologize.”
She swallowed hard, loving the veins in his forearms, the way his day-after stubble glinted dark in the sunlight streaming inside. “Apology accepted.”
“I’d like to mention that the deal is off the table. Can we pretend like I never brought it up?” He grimaced.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Good.” He relaxed back into the couch, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Now, will you give me one night to make it up to you?”
***
Clara’s face fell. It was not the reaction Adrien had been hoping for. “What?”
“One more night. Together.” His heart pounded in his chest, awaiting her response. One more night wouldn’t be enough, but he’d take what he could get, at least while he figured out what to do about the pending marriage dilemma. “Let me take you out. What do you say?”
“I say you’re crazy. What will people think of a prince hanging around someone like me?”
His shoulders tensed. His least favorite topic in the world; he couldn’t escape it even by moving halfway across the world. “I should remind you that even though I’m a prince, I’m still a person.”
Her face softened. “I’m sorry. Of course you are. I just—”
“And what do you mean ‘someone like you’? You’re also a person, one I happen to be growing quite fond of.”
A grin blossomed on her face but she squashed it.
“And I know. It’s hard to wrap your mind around all this. Try growing up in it.”
“Not as fun as the storybooks make it sound?”
He laughed spitefully. “Hardly.”
She watched the world beyond the window for a few moments. He took the opportunity to admire the graceful arc of her neck, her shiny brown hair that fell in loose waves around her face, and her thick eyelashes.
The truth was that the second she’d stepped out of his apartment, he’d ached to see her again. It didn’t make sense; he just knew he had to track her down. He sent his security detail to follow her home and secure an address. And now, all he could hope for was a few more magical nights with her before he had to face the crushing reality of the upcoming decision.
Marry the archduchess or a total stranger.
He didn’t even know where to start. Bay Area Craigslist? Clara had been the first he’d propositioned, and he could see now that any woman in her right mind would be turned off by the idea. So apparently asking a potential love interest wasn’t the route to go. Which left only gold diggers and questionable types, which he’d avoid like the plague.
Clara’s hesitance to the whole idea made him even more desperate for her to accept. Her unshakeable pride was a strange turn-on for him. Money and prestige couldn’t make her abandon her principles, which was usually the number one thing he detested about the majority of people who crossed his path. Most were willing to give up anything for a slice of the pie—quick to forsake loved ones or commit uncharacteristic crimes.
“What do you want to do tonight?” Her voice came out small and quiet. Like maybe she was speaking softly so her conscience wouldn’t hear.
“Fish. All of them. Oysters, even. I want to feed you calamari. Let’s go check out a new restaurant and leave our review on Yelp, no holds barred.”
Her eyes lit up. “Are you serious? That sounds so fun.”
“It does. What time should we meet?”
“Seven. But let’s keep it casual, okay? I don’t have a ridiculous wardrobe financed by the monarchy.”
He couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face. “Neither do I.”
“Well you know what I mean. Let’s look nice, but not get crazy with it.”
“Deal. I’ll be here at seven to get you. And then we’re going diving into the deep waters of Yelp reviews.”
He stood and approached the armchair where she rested. Her crossed legs offered a scintillating view of the back of her creamy thigh. He squeezed her shoulder, searching out her gaze. “I’ll let you get back to your job hunt.”
Her eyes showed her confusion, and maybe a little bit of longing. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I have a lot of work to do and I’m a very busy woman.”
He leaned down, bending a knee to be on her level. “The most important work is done without pants, I’ve heard.”
She cracked a grin. “It’s true. And hey—one more thing.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re trying to kiss me right now, just forget it. The kitchen is closed. No more kisses, or fondling, or anything.”
“Who said I was trying to kiss you?”
“I know you’re a wise guy. After all, you promised me a waterfall yesterday and I have yet to see one.”
He laughed. “Fine.” He raised his hands as if mock surrendering. “No kisses. No nothing. I trust that’s only valid during the daytime. Meaning our fishery tour will answer to different rules.”
“Oh, no. This is the final rule. I’m letting you take me out to make up to me. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, and I like calamari. So you found my weakness. But this is going to be completely platonic. I don’t get mixed up with princes, okay? Especially princes on a wife hunt.”
He sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. Platonic.”
She pushed at the waist of his pants, nodding toward the door. “I have work to do now, buddy. I’ll see you at seven.”
Adrien walked to the door, making eyes at her as he closed it. When it clicked shut behind him, he blinked in the unexpected darkness of the stairwell. Silence settled around him, blanketing him in the pleasant nothingness of the moment.
What was he doing here? In this dingy stairwell, in this dingy apartment, searching out the companionship of a person who barely even wanted to see him. He hurried down the staircase, feet clanging loudly against the metal steps, and burst out onto the street level, the midday sun greeting him through tendrils of fog.
Clara lived on the south side, where most of the day featured some amount of fog cover. It was so different from his neighborhood that he felt like he was in a different city altogether. A few moments later, Mr. Pike pulled up to the curb and he climbed into the back seat.
Silence ensconced him as the car pulled out into traffic. Mr. Pike would take him back to the penthouse unless explicitly stated otherwise, so there was no need to direct him. Adrien gnawed on his lip as he watched the storefronts pass by in a blur on his way out of the south side.
Meeting up with Clara didn’t make financial or practical sense. She was a dead end to his long-term goal of finding a wife. And more than that, now that she knew who he was, she seemed intent on throwing his status in his face. It could go nowhere but downhill from here.
But he wanted to try, anyway. Logic be damned. She was a breath of fresh air—one he intended on tasting as long as possible.
The colorful facades of the Bayview neighborhood came into clarity as they drove past. Bright pinks and stunning oranges—the colors of an alive and vibrant neighborhood.
Like Clara. Like he planned to be for as long as he could hold out.