Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Ha! I was right, real country!” I say in a singsong voice.
He yanks the phone out of my view. “And what’s the population?”
“Twenty-six thousand, four hundred, and twelve. Last census two years ago,” I answer easily. I’ve spent my life being briefed on every minute detail of my country. I can stand a pop quiz from a stranger. Especially an American one.
“And the primary crop?”
“Wheat and barley. Though most of the farming done is livestock farming due to our mountainous terrain.” Velkan is a small coastal country with a long and distinguished history. We’ve fought for our freedom and though there’s much poverty, we are a proud people.
He snorts. “You could have studied up on the country.”
I roll my eyes. He’s being so obtuse. “You could look up a picture of the princess.”
He taps hurriedly at the screen and looks between the phone and me. “You could have dyed your hair. And where’s your entourage? Wouldn’t royalty travel with bodyguards? This is not making sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. You’re my prince, and I’ve come to take you back to Velkan. Didn’t you listen to any of my messages?” I huff out and start moving around the cabin. I need to get dry, and I’ll be in a much better mood.
“Where are you going?” He follows me through the hallway. “I have nothing valuable for you to make off with.”
“I want a fucking towel,” I tell him, and the moment the dirty word leaves my mouth, I clap my hand over it. I spend too much time in the public eye to make a habit of cursing. To swear invites criticism of the crown.
But Rafael chuckles as he looks me up and down. He seems to realize that I might be cold. He tips his head in a gesture for me to follow him and leads me to the bathroom. It’s a huge, sprawling one complete with a hot tub in the corner. I gaze longingly at it. I’d give anything for a good soak, but there’s no time for that.
Right now, my mission is to convince my prince to return with me so we can marry and rule together. The prince doesn’t even seem to know he’s a prince. The thought makes me sad for him. He has no clue of his history, no idea of his people.
He passes me a towel. Our fingertips brush, and I suck in a breath at the electricity that arcs between us. I’ve never had that reaction to a man before. I thought it was the stuff in those silly rom-coms I watch late at night when I can’t sleep.
“So, if you’re from Vulcan…”
“Velkan,” I correct again as I undo my soggy ponytail and wring it out in the towel.
He watches me intently, some emotion I can’t describe flickering across his face. Is it longing? Loneliness, perhaps. “Then where is your magical prince from?”
“The neighboring Republic of Portia.”
“Ahh, of course.”
“You’ve heard of it?” A little bit of hope flutters in my heart. Maybe he can explain to me how he ended up here in the States where he grew up instead of with his family. The little information I managed to gather seems to suggest that most in the kingdom have no idea that Rafael is alive and well.
“Nope,” he calls over his shoulder as he retreats from the bathroom. He returns thirty seconds later with a t-shirt and boxers. He shoves them at me with a grunt. “You’ll catch your death of a cold.”
He gestures for me to change and turns his back to me.
I peel off my sticky clothes, using the towel to pat dry my skin and clean the mud from my feet. “When were you sent to America? It’s a weird place. They have no concept of personal space here. They bump right into you. I had the rudest woman next to me on the plane. Even spilled her peanuts on my lap.”
“Tell me again why you think I’m a prince,” he demands. He certainly has that air of authority that accompanies those who are royalty.
I glance at the clothes he gave me and decide that no matter what’s proper, I’m not wearing wet panties to bed. I shed my undergarments, adding them to the pile of wet clothes at my feet and tug on his black t-shirt. It’s more like a dress given that he’s a giant, and I’m a short girl. I don’t bother with the boxers. It would feel too intimate.
“I don’t think you’re a prince. I know you’re one.” Violet personally reviewed the information. She’s always thorough, and she’s never led me wrong. “You can turn around now.”
“This is getting ridiculous. Tell you what. I’ll let you stay the night then tomorrow morning, we’ll get you a ride share. Hell, I’ll spring for it. And you’ll leave my mountain and never return.” He nods to himself as if the matter is settled.