Read Online Paris and the Prince: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (Royal Weddings Book 1) by Mia Caldwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mia Caldwell
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had the music thumping so loudly that no one in the sparse audience could hear Whitney in the back, screaming at her manager.
“What IS this bullshit, Nigel? My line was supposed to debut at a Fashion Week venue! Not at some crappy nightclub five miles from anything! This is ridiculous! No one is even here! How could you possibly be so incompetent?”
As if on cue, the runway collapsed out from underneath two of the models, sending them flying to the floor, and filling the club with dust and debris. Even over the music, you could hear the sound of one of Whitney's creations tearing off its model, ruining about $2000 worth of mulberry silk. And if you really focused, faintly in the distance, you could hear the sharp smack of Whitney's hand as she slapped her manager across the face.
----
P aris couldn't stop giggling as the lavender-scented wind whipped through her hair, her hands free from the handlebars as she flew down the bicycle path in the Jardin des Plantes. From behind her, she could hear Alex calling out, “Slow down, maniac! You're going to end up in a rose bush rushing around like that!”
Alex finally caught up to Paris, falling into her rhythm, reaching up to adjust his low hat that had been thrown off-kilter by the breeze. They had been riding bikes through the botanical gardens all morning, stopping from time to time to marvel over a beautiful statue, or take in the lovely scent of a freshly-blooming group of wildflowers. When they finally reached the small zoo on the far side of the garden, and began to lock up their bikes, Paris excused herself to go to the restroom.
“Alex, can you wait one second? I’ll be right back.”
Paris walked away, and as he watched her retreating figure, a deep panic began to creep from the middle of Alex's stomach and spread through his chest, before settling square in the middle of his forehead.
He began feeling all of his pockets: front, back, even the pocket of the button-down under his sweater. His phone. He'd left his phone in his pants from last night. If his parents, or worse, Whitney, tried to call him, they'd end up wearing down the battery pretty quickly when he didn't answer. There was going to be an all-out war when he finally got back to his phone later.
As Paris walked back over to him, Alex tried to paste a smile on his face, and hide his mounting fear over what kind of trouble he was going to be in with his family. He gathered up Paris in his arms and kissed her on the head, as she took in a deep breath of him. He smelled like the gardens, and the soft wool of his sweater.
She clung to his collar, wrapping her arms around his neck. To the other patrons of the botanical garden, Paris and Alex just looked like any other happy couple, lost in love for one another in the most romantic city in the world.
But to the paparazzo snapping pictures of Paris and Alex, the same one who had followed them all the way from the hotel, chasing them on foot despite his sweaty and rotund shape, all he saw was a payday. And with this latest batch of pictures, he could officially cash in on “the cheating Prince of Dalvana.”
Yup... it was going to be a good day.
14
Q ueen Catriona was the first of the royal family to become aware of what was happening in Paris, and that was only because her assistant was addicted to trashy gossip websites, or as Celia liked to refer to them, “the voice of the people.”
Usually, Queen Cat would just tune Celia out as she rambled on about whatever celebrity nonsense was in the news that day. But today, when Celia rushed in to the Queen's dressing room in a state of total panic, Cat was forced to pay attention.
“Cat... I mean, Your Highness! I saw! I mean... Did you see? Have you heard? I can't believe! Has anyone told you?”
Celia was practically turning blue from lack of air as she spewed forth a torrent of questions that assumed Cat had a knowledge of whatever Celia was rambling about. She did not.
“Celia, for god's sake.
“What IS this bullshit, Nigel? My line was supposed to debut at a Fashion Week venue! Not at some crappy nightclub five miles from anything! This is ridiculous! No one is even here! How could you possibly be so incompetent?”
As if on cue, the runway collapsed out from underneath two of the models, sending them flying to the floor, and filling the club with dust and debris. Even over the music, you could hear the sound of one of Whitney's creations tearing off its model, ruining about $2000 worth of mulberry silk. And if you really focused, faintly in the distance, you could hear the sharp smack of Whitney's hand as she slapped her manager across the face.
----
P aris couldn't stop giggling as the lavender-scented wind whipped through her hair, her hands free from the handlebars as she flew down the bicycle path in the Jardin des Plantes. From behind her, she could hear Alex calling out, “Slow down, maniac! You're going to end up in a rose bush rushing around like that!”
Alex finally caught up to Paris, falling into her rhythm, reaching up to adjust his low hat that had been thrown off-kilter by the breeze. They had been riding bikes through the botanical gardens all morning, stopping from time to time to marvel over a beautiful statue, or take in the lovely scent of a freshly-blooming group of wildflowers. When they finally reached the small zoo on the far side of the garden, and began to lock up their bikes, Paris excused herself to go to the restroom.
“Alex, can you wait one second? I’ll be right back.”
Paris walked away, and as he watched her retreating figure, a deep panic began to creep from the middle of Alex's stomach and spread through his chest, before settling square in the middle of his forehead.
He began feeling all of his pockets: front, back, even the pocket of the button-down under his sweater. His phone. He'd left his phone in his pants from last night. If his parents, or worse, Whitney, tried to call him, they'd end up wearing down the battery pretty quickly when he didn't answer. There was going to be an all-out war when he finally got back to his phone later.
As Paris walked back over to him, Alex tried to paste a smile on his face, and hide his mounting fear over what kind of trouble he was going to be in with his family. He gathered up Paris in his arms and kissed her on the head, as she took in a deep breath of him. He smelled like the gardens, and the soft wool of his sweater.
She clung to his collar, wrapping her arms around his neck. To the other patrons of the botanical garden, Paris and Alex just looked like any other happy couple, lost in love for one another in the most romantic city in the world.
But to the paparazzo snapping pictures of Paris and Alex, the same one who had followed them all the way from the hotel, chasing them on foot despite his sweaty and rotund shape, all he saw was a payday. And with this latest batch of pictures, he could officially cash in on “the cheating Prince of Dalvana.”
Yup... it was going to be a good day.
14
Q ueen Catriona was the first of the royal family to become aware of what was happening in Paris, and that was only because her assistant was addicted to trashy gossip websites, or as Celia liked to refer to them, “the voice of the people.”
Usually, Queen Cat would just tune Celia out as she rambled on about whatever celebrity nonsense was in the news that day. But today, when Celia rushed in to the Queen's dressing room in a state of total panic, Cat was forced to pay attention.
“Cat... I mean, Your Highness! I saw! I mean... Did you see? Have you heard? I can't believe! Has anyone told you?”
Celia was practically turning blue from lack of air as she spewed forth a torrent of questions that assumed Cat had a knowledge of whatever Celia was rambling about. She did not.
“Celia, for god's sake.
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