Forbidden King

Chapter 1 Thirty Years Ago… In the country of Avce, a noble must marry before his thirtieth birthday or lose his status. Leo, technically Leopoldo Aussa, as the crown prince and only son of the royal family, demanded that his parents change the archaic rules for him, but as the calendar counted down to doomsday, only three weeks away, they did nothing. Leo had threatened to vacate his responsibilities, refuse the throne and leave Avce. But where could he go without wealth and privilege? He’d traveled to the United States at eighteen, where his wallet had been stolen. Those few hours without money or identification in Los Angeles, California had scarred him. Deep down, he knew he would accept the throne and marry, but his first law as king would be to change this ancient rule of the land. No son of his should face down a clock. Or marry a stranger just to keep his birthright. Leo couldn’t imagine having a son, but when the time came, he hoped to have a relationship with the next heir, like some of his friends had with their fathers. They would build trust and understanding and not be ignored. Summoned to the throne room, where he’d been kept waiting for over an hour, Leo was sure his parents were about to apply more guilt, saying that he’d ruined their chances for a shipping alliance with a northern country nowhere near Avce by not marrying the princess of said country. He had no choice but to sit straight in the high-backed wooden chairs meant to intimidate royal visitors. The dong of the swinging clock near the door went off, signaling another half hour had passed and once again his parents paid little regard for his time or his schedule. His pulled at his tight collar. He probably shouldn’t have slept with Francesca at the bride-finding ball his parents had thrown two nights ago, but he hadn’t wanted to be Prince Charming to some Cinderella waltzing through the palace door. So, he’d disappeared with the pretty model who’d wanted nothing more than a one-night stand. The infernal tick-tock of the huge gilded clock needed to be removed from this antechamber. One day, if he ever did have any power, he’d dismantle that sound so no one else had to suffer. He’d spent too much of his life staring at that gilded clock waiting for his parents to give him a royal decree for his life rather than discuss anything, ever. Perhaps if his parents had had more sons, then he wouldn’t carry this weight on his shoulder. His younger sister had done her duty, married and left the kingdom that Leo was supposed to inherit. If he abdicated, an odious cousin took over. He stood from the chair and paced. If not the princess, maybe his parents planned to ream him over Francesca, and then send him on his way like he was still a boy they’d scold. Franz, the court Marshal, opened and closed the door to the throne room, carrying a long staff. Leo crossed his hands and ignored the heat in his cheeks as the play of his life continued. Franz tapped the marble floor with his symbolic staff. Without a word, the gesture meant ‘stand and be ready to meet the king and queen.’ Even as the only son, he didn’t get a pass around traditions. Luckily his father was healthy and should rule Avce for decades more without any issues. Now if he’d rescind the law that nobles must marry by thirty, everything would be fine. Had Leo been called to meet them because they’d finally relented? He followed behind the servant, who stepped back when they reached the final door and Leo entered the room normally filled with royal hangers-on. Today it was just his parents, both dressed in royal blue and gold as they held court and sat on their thrones. Their positions meant they were in charge, they set the rules and he obeyed. Leo walked to the lowest step of the dais. His father declared, “Leopoldo Aussa, the laws cannot be changed because you want to keep flirting with models, son.” Francesca was to be the subject then. He met his father’s gaze and squared his shoulders. “Francesca is more than just a model.” “Model and aspiring actress?” His mother, Queen Anastasia, stood from her throne and stared down the steps as if he was a peasant. “She’s not fit to be a queen. You know that, son, which is why you haven’t considered marrying her, yet your action put all the eligible women who might be good for you on notice that you weren’t available.” Her tone was clipped. So they knew he’d known Francesca for more than one night—they didn’t have to say. His mother’s raised eyebrow conveyed her disapproval without words. Yes, Francesca was reckless and wild. She didn’t care about anything which was the exact opposite of what everyone thought he should be. Queen Anastasia continued in her litany, “And once again you cause your own problems and once again I find the solution. Hopefully one day you’ll learn to take some responsibility in life and not just flit around and never think things through.” No one had ever asked Leo to solve anything before. It might be nice, but it wasn’t important now. Leo wanted one thing in his life… a choice. So, he took a single step up the dais like he was ascending into godliness. It was time to show them how reckless he was and force them to change the stupid law. He met the cold stare of his father. “Time is almost up for me. If you truly want me to be king, then you’ll accept Francesca.” “She’s unacceptable and you’ll be stripped of any power if you do.” His father hadn’t budged from his throne as he decreed, “Your secretary Anna is a better choice for queen.” Anna Camila? Leo kept her close because she did whatever he needed, without fuss; she wasn’t bad to look at with her tight bun and ever-present notepad. She anticipated his every whim, and ran his events perfectly. But she wasn’t a noble. Neither was Francesca. He hadn’t once thought his parents would accept anyone that wouldn’t help grow Avce’s power. Francesca certainly didn’t but Anna Camila? “You want me to marry my secretary?” His mother nodded her regal head. “At every event for the past year, where she has been at your side, your manner and behavior is above reproach.” “What happened to making a match that brings a contract or treaty to Avce?” “Your two sisters handled that for us, protecting our small nation,” his father said. His mother folded her arms. “You’re running out of time. Ask Anna. At least I like Anna Camila.” Interesting. This must have been his parents’ plan—they knew very well the clock was ticking. They didn’t approve of Francesca, and had offered a solution that he might not have considered. All that was missing was Anna. Was she in on it? No. Yet for all he knew, she might have a boyfriend who ran a shipping company in Avce, or worse, a man who operated a ski chalet. The thought of Anna with a cocky ski instructor made his body grow cold. He bowed and said, “Let’s ask her then, right now.” His parents descended the stairs of the dais together. Once they reached the bottom, his mother cupped his face and said, “You can talk to her alone.” Today made no sense and his parents were mistaken if they thought he and Anna would match. Anna had a way of staring through him until he capitulated because she thought he was better than he was. A lifetime of expectation might be too hard to handle when no one, not even his parents, expected anything of him. He kept his head high. She’d say no. And when she said no, then they needed to let him make his own mistakes. He shook his head and motioned toward the door. “No. As she was the group choice, let’s have you both there to hear her answer.” He strode down the vaulted halls of the palace, hemmed in by portraits of his ancestors all dressed in black, each with penetrating eyes. He turned and climbed a wide stairwell leading to his wing of the palace, the red carpet quieting their steps. Normally, his heart calmed by this point of his journey after being dismissed from the throne room, but not today. His belly burned with fire. Perhaps Francesca wasn’t a lady like his mother, but his mistakes were supposed to be his own and not a reflection against ancestors from the Roman Empire. In his almost thirty years, he’d never assumed once that his parents, his royal parents, would suggest a peasant. If he’d have thought they’d bend this much, he might have held out for love—or something like that. His mind swirled as they neared his office door. Why would they approve of Anna but not Francesca? Leo peeked into his office. Anna’s brown eyes shone with intelligence behind her black-framed spectacles she wore to read his mail. She laughed at his dry commentary that most people didn’t get. And unlike most women, he was easy and himself with her. Her uniform of choice was a black knee-length pencil skirt, a button-down shirt, pearls around her neck, her hair tied up in a tight bun, and no makeup at all. He’d never seen her in anything else. He pushed open the door fully and she was right where he’d left her, at her desk, in front of her desktop computer, typing away on a document. He heard the shwish sound of the printer, and cleared his throat. Her brown eyes widened and she jumped out of her seat to curtsy as his parents followed him into his office, their blue and gold attire flashing. His father pressed his hand on his chest like this was a formal meeting and she was his equal as he said, “Anna Camila.” She didn’t end her curtsy. “Yes, Your Highness?” Leo tapped her shoulder to get her to straighten up and a spark rushed in his veins. He’d touched her before, but never felt this. Of course, he hadn’t considered marrying her before now. He put his arms to his side the moment she stood and glanced at him. He said, “My father believes you’ll make me an excellent queen one day. Do you want the job?” She blinked. Anna lost all the color in her face as she raised her eyebrow and asked, “What job? I don’t understand.” Perhaps if he’d thought Anna was a possibility in the past, he’d have at least glanced at her full lips. Would they be sweet? He’d been shocked by his father’s suggestion and still wasn’t sure so he pivoted toward his parents. “Father…” His mother took Anna’s hands as if they were friends. “My son is asking you to marry him though he’s being extremely rude.” And there it was. The same as always. His parents still made his choices and expected him to do as told. No discussion allowed. And yet, he hadn’t protested at all. Asking Anna had never been his idea. He wouldn’t have broken the class structure, but he pressed his lips when Anna’s cheeks pinkened. “Mother,” he said. “Stop.” Anna’s lips hadn’t quite closed, but she turned toward him, fixed that infernal bun to keep it straight and asked him, “Your Highness?” This was a shot in the dark that showed his parents’ desperation to get him married. She probably had a fiancé or a life outside the palace once she left him every day at five o’clock. At his mother’s glare, he went down on one knee, took Anna’s hand, and kissed the back of it. In the most serious tone he could muster he asked, “Will you marry me, Anna Camila?” She clutched his hand and her entire face and neck turned bright red. Surely she was about to say no and explain a bit of her personal life. Then she swallowed and glanced at his hand holding hers. He held his breath as he waited for her refusal, but then she tugged his arm to stand and said, “Yes. I know you have to marry soon and I’m honored, though I should discuss this with my grandmother and ask for her blessing.” His mother clasped her hands together and acted like this last-minute union was now a royal decree. “Excellent. We’ll plan the wedding for tomorrow and send you both on an extended honeymoon to get to know each other.” Know each other? True. Other than her dependability and timeliness where she was always where he needed her to be, he didn’t know much about Anna. He released her hand, walking to the open door where he waited by it. “I’d like to speak to Anna, alone.” His mother wrapped her arm in the crook of his father’s and said, “I’ll begin the wedding preparations for tomorrow. Anna, don’t leave this castle without my tailor taking your measurements.” Anna bowed as was the custom. “Yes, Your Majesty.” His parents left in a wake of gold and blue and silence clung in the air. His office had a window that overlooked a vast green lawn and clusters of trees. A branch scraped the glass, breaking the tension. Anna turned to the printer, gathered and stapled some papers, then handed them to him. “I finished the report on the environmental impact of deforestation of the mountains. The forestry department recommends replanting trees, Sire, before the next ski season.” Seriously? Reports. She’d just agreed to marry him, so as of tomorrow, she’d never touch one more industry paper for him. He stood taller and noticed that the swell of her breasts in her white button-down was larger than he’d have guessed. Her shirt was big—to disguise her figure? He sat on the edge of his mahogany desk, centered in the room, to give her space. “Anna, I don’t want to talk about trees right now.” She took a few steps closer to him and hugged the papers to her chest, keeping her gaze no higher than his chin as she disagreed. “The report sounded important.” If she thought it was urgent, then she was probably right. He held out his hand for the report she wanted to discuss and flexed his fingers. She gave him the papers and he signed the bottom to approve the proposal. “It seems we’ll plant trees in the future queen’s honor then.” “What do you mean?” Business would never come between them again. He took her hand. First off, he noticed the spark again, and second, how soft her hands actually were as he tugged her closer and placed her palm on his heart, over the silk fabric of his shirt. “Anna, you just agreed to be my wife. That’s more important than trees.” Her fingers clutched the row of buttons but then she pulled away, her face bright red. She glanced down and still acted like his secretary. “I see. Is there anything else you need from me?” He motioned toward the cleared space on the desk. “Anna, please sit beside me.” She squared her shoulders instead of telling him no and hopped up on the wooden desk, but lost one of her black flats. Her toes, in black hose, wiggled as she settled next to him. “Is here good?” Until ten minutes ago, he hadn’t thought of Anna as someone he’d be with, which probably made him a snob. He’d noticed her curves, but never once spent any time imagining the color of her n*****s underneath her bra. Now the question hung in his brain as he stared at her shoe on the hardwood floor and asked, “Why did you say yes?” Anna too looked down and then she tucked her foot behind her calf as she struggled for words. Finally she said, “Because… being a queen would be a dream.” Was there to be total truth between them? Beauty and trust were a rare combination. He traced the edge of his desk with the heel of his palm. “Even though you know about Francesca?” She let out a deep breath and met his gaze without blinking. “You don’t love her, Sire.” Anna sounded so sure. So had his parents. They were right, but he hadn’t claimed otherwise. “How do you know that?” Her light brown brow rose as if he’d said something silly. “Because you wouldn’t have paid her to stay away.” Ouch. And she was right. Anna had ensured that Francesca deposited the check she’d filled out on his behalf. His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. “Anna, maybe you and my parents are right about Francesca and me, but agreeing to marry me is a bit of leap. I expected you to laugh in my face and tell me you had a boyfriend.” She glanced at his shoulder now as she almost whispered, “I’ve never laughed at you, Sire, and I have no boyfriend.” Good. He didn’t need to share her, and that pleased him. Now that Anna was a possibility, he noticed the fullness of her lower lip. He looked again. Anna had the potential to be absolutely stunning. He placed one hand next to hers. “Anna, I’ve never seen you with your hair out of that bun.” She reached behind her head and gave him the stare she gave him when handing over a report. No-nonsense. “Do you want me to take my hair down, Your Highness?” He shifted toward her and nodded. Brown, yes, but how long? Would it be soft, or coarse? “Yes, let’s see it.” She lightly chewed on her lower lip and took out pins. Then she unwound her hair from a tight circle and removed an elastic. He stared in fascination as her hair was lighter brown than he’d thought. It cascaded down her neck, straight at her shoulder blade as she shook it out and said, “It’s a bit of a mess.” Or bed-ready. His fingers ached to run his hands through the strands. Perhaps his mother had hired Anna for him last year, hoping he’d take her. And he’d been the fool that let social status and castle politics blind him. Leo stared at her lightly pink mouth—he knew she wore ChapStick she kept on her desk. “No, no. You look kissable.” He came closer to steal a taste. She pressed her hand to his chest as she lowered her lashes, “Your Highness…” His lips were a fraction of a centimeter from her as he said in a low voice, “We’ll be expected to have children. I’d like to know what my future wife kisses like.” She closed her eyes and offered her parted lips when she said, “If you want…” “I want.” He wrapped his arms around her back, tugging her closer. She let out a sigh and then he kissed her strawberry ChapStick. Anna’s kiss was sweet, almost innocent, though her hands wrapped around his shoulders, letting him know she wanted him back. Leo deepened the kiss, picking up her leg and depositing it on his so her chest was pressed against his, despite the clothes. He ran his hands through her silky hair—it was oh, so soft. Her moan encouraged him, but he stopped himself. The last thing the world press needed to see was her bruised lips from too many kisses. After tomorrow, after the wedding, no one would see them for a while. He could take his time then. He fixed his shirt as he stood from the desk, handing her the shoe she’d dropped. She slipped it on and tried to straighten her hair as she asked, “Is that all, Your Highness?” If they continued, he’d strip her bare, right here, and not care if he took her where he normally read over reports and had her fetching his coffee. He adjusted his jacket and motioned toward the door. “Better get going to my mother’s tailor.” “I’ll file this on my way out.” She picked up the report on trees that had dropped to the ground somewhere in their kiss. She hugged the papers. “I will speak to my grandmother tonight.” He tilted his head and stared at Anna, unsure what the problem might be. He was the future king. “Won’t she approve?” She shook her head and shrugged. “Probably not, at least not right away, but I’ll handle it. We can marry in the morning.” Why would anyone refuse his offer? Anna’s grandmother must be interesting. He didn’t say anything and she sashayed toward the door. He called out to her curvy backside, “Anna, wait.” She turned around and lowered her head again like they were still boss and employee as she asked, “Yes, Your Highness?” He crossed the room and lifted her chin. Once she stared at him, the memory of her kiss lingering on his lips, he said, “Call me Leo or Leopoldo from now on.” She let out a sigh. “I…” Her voice had trailed off, and whatever she intended to say was gone. He didn’t want to let her go and he ran his hands through her mane of hair, all waves from the bun. “Anna, next time we meet it will be our wedding. I promise that I’ll be less in crisis-mode and more of a gentleman.” She turned her head like she’d kiss his hand that touched her. “You’re always a gentleman, Your High… Leo.” The way she said his name made him pause. He kissed her cheek, and then stepped back. “See you tomorrow then, for our wedding.” Without another word, she left. He watched the door close and only in the silence did he finally think. Tomorrow was his wedding day. And somehow he had a bride he both desired and never expected. A few hours ago all of this seemed absolutely impossible, but now he’d spend the night wondering if that strawberry taste was all over her bare skin or just on her pink lips. He reached onto her desk and picked up her ChapStick, tucking it in his pocket.