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At His Majesty’s Convenience
Jennifer Lewis
Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir
Heidi Betts
At His Majesty’s Convenience
Jennifer Lewis
“Was I good at being your assistant?” Her serious gaze touched him. “I don’t remember anything about my job.”
“Exemplary. You’ve been far more than my assistant. My right-hand woman is a better description.”
She looked pleased. “I guess that’s a good thing, since we’re getting married.”
“Absolutely.” Jake swallowed. How would she react when her memory returned and she realized they had never been romantically involved? She wasn’t in love with him. Still, that kiss had been surprisingly spicy. In fact, he couldn’t remember experiencing anything like it in his fairly substantial kissing experience.
Maybe it was the element of the forbidden. He’d never considered kissing his assistant and it still felt … wrong. Probably because it was wrong of him to let her think they’d been a couple. But once a ring was on her finger, they really would be engaged and everything would be on the up and up.
At least until her memory came back.
Dear Reader,
I’ve always been attracted to amnesia stories. In fact the first book I ever wrote—which will never see the harsh light of day!—featured a hero with amnesia. I’ve written about twenty books since that first brave attempt, but I’ve always wanted to return to the theme of amnesia and explore it in a new story. There’s something so fascinating about someone waking up and having to interact with the world around them without the familiar filter of experience and memory that governs so much of what we do.
In this story, Andi’s amnesia allows the characters to step out of their accustomed roles, as monarch/boss and loyal admin, and see each other with fresh eyes. On the other hand, Andi’s memory loss gives her no choice but to trust Jake and what he tells her about their relationship, so things get very complicated when her memory returns and she realizes he’s taken liberties with the truth.
I hope you enjoy Jake and Andi’s romantic (mis)adventures!
Jen
About the Author
JENNIFER LEWIS has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. Happily settled in England with her family, she would love to hear from readers at jen@jenlewis.com. Visit her website at www.jenlewis.com.
For Lulu, a gracious lady and a powerful
communicator who’s encouraged me to slow
down and see the big picture.
Acknowledgements:
More thanks to the lovely people who read this book
while I was writing it, Anne, Cynthia, Jerri, Leeanne,
my agent Andrea and my editor Charles.
One
He won’t ever forgive you.
Andi Blake watched her boss from the far end of the grand dining room. Dressed in a black dinner jacket, dark hair slicked back, he looked calm, composed and strikingly handsome as usual, while he scanned the printed guest list she’d placed on the sideboard.
Then again, maybe he wouldn’t care at all. Nothing rattled Jake Mondragon, which was why he’d transitioned easily from life as a successful Manhattan investor to his new role as king of the mountainous nation of Ruthenia.
Would her departure cause even a single furrow in his majestic brow? Her heart squeezed. Probably not.
Her sweating palms closed around the increasingly crumpled envelope containing her letter of resignation. The letter made it official, not just an idle threat or even a joke.
Do it now, before you lose your nerve.
Her breath caught in her throat. It didn’t seem possible to just walk up to him and say, “Jake, I’m leaving.” But if she didn’t she’d soon be making arrangements for his wedding.
She’d put up with a lot of things in the three years since she’d moved from their lofty office in Manhattan to this rambling Ruthenian palace, but she could not stand to see him marry another woman.
You deserve to have a life. Claim it.
She squared her shoulders and set out across the room, past the long table elegantly set for fifty of his closest friends.
Jake glanced up. Her blood heated—as always—when his dark eyes fixed on hers. “Andi, could you put me next to Maxi Rivenshnell instead of Alia Kronstadt? I sat next to Alia last night at the Hollernsterns and I don’t want Maxi to feel neglected.”
Andi froze. How could it have become her job to cultivate his romances with these women? Ruthenia’s powerful families were jostling and shoving for the chance to see their daughter crowned queen, and no one cared if little Andi from Pittsburgh got trampled in the stampede.
Least of all Jake.
“Why don’t I just put you between them?” She tried to keep her tone even. Right now she wanted to throw her carefully typed letter at him. “That way you can kiss up to both of them at once.”
Jake glanced up with a raised brow. She never spoke to him like this, so no wonder he looked surprised.
She straightened her shoulders and thrust the letter out at him. “My resignation. I’ll be leaving as soon as the party’s over.”
Jake’s gaze didn’t waver. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Andi flinched. She’d known he wouldn’t believe her. “I’m totally serious. I’ll do my job tonight. I’d never leave you in the lurch in the middle of an event, but I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.” She couldn’t believe how calm she sounded. “I apologize for not giving two weeks’ notice, but I’ve worked day and night for the last three years in a strange country without even a week’s vacation so I hope you can excuse it. The Independence Day celebrations are well under way and everything’s been delegated. I’m sure you won’t miss me at all.” She squeezed the last words out right as she ran out of gumption.
“Not miss you? The Independence Day celebrations are the biggest event in the history of Ruthenia—well, since the 1502 civil war, at least. We can’t possibly manage without you, even for a day.”
Andi swallowed. He didn’t care about her at all, just about the big day coming up. Wasn’t it always like this? He was all business, all the time. After six years working together he barely knew anything about her. Which wasn’t fair, since she knew almost everything about him. She’d eaten, slept and breathed Jake Mondragon for the past six years and in the process fallen utterly and totally in love with him.
Shame he didn’t even notice she was female.
He peered down at her, concern in his brown eyes. “I told you to take some vacation. Didn’t I suggest you go back home for a few weeks last summer?”
Home? Where was home anymore? She’d given up her apartment in Manhattan when she moved here. Her parents both worked long hours and had moved to a different suburb since she left high school, so if she went to see them she’d just end up hanging around their house—probably pining for Jake.
Well, no more. She was going to find a new home and start over. She had an interview for a promising job as an event planner scheduled for next week in Manhattan, and that was a perfect next step to going out on her own.
“I don’t want to be a personal assistant for the rest of my life and I’m turning twenty-seven soon so it’s time to kickstart my career.”
“We can change your title. How about …” His dark eyes narrowed. She couldn’t help a slight quickening in her pulse. “Chief executive officer.”
“Very funny. Except that I’d still be doing all the same things.”
“No one else could do them as well as you.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.” The palace had a staff of nearly thirty including daytime employees. She was hardly leaving him in the lurch. And she couldn’t possibly stand to be here for Independence Day next week. The press had made a big deal of how important it was for him to choose a bride; the future of the monarchy depended on it. He’d jokingly given their third Independence Day as his deadline when he’d assumed the crown three years ago.
Now everyone expected him to act on it. Being a man of his word, Andi knew he would. Maxi, Alia, Carina, there were plenty to choose from, and she couldn’t bear to see him with any of them.
Jake put down the guest list, but made no move to take her letter of resignation. “I know you’ve been working hard. Life in a royal palace is a bit of a twenty-four-hour party, but you do get to set your own hours and you’ve never been shy about asking for good compensation.”
“I’m very well paid and I know it.” She did pride herself on asking for raises regularly. She knew Jake respected that, which was probably half the reason she’d done it. As a result she had a nice little nest egg put aside to fund her new start. “But it’s time for me to move on.”
Why was she even so crazy about him? He’d never shown the slightest glimmer of interest in her.
Her dander rose still higher as Jake glanced at his watch. “The guests will be here any minute and I need to return a call from New York. We’ll talk later and figure something out.” He reached out and clapped her on the arm, as if she was an old baseball buddy. “We’ll make you happy.”
He turned and left the room, leaving her holding her letter of resignation between trembling fingers.
Once the door had closed behind him, she let out a growl of frustration. Of course he thought he could talk her down and turn everything around. Isn’t that exactly what he was known for? And he even imagined he could make her “happy.”
That kind of arrogance should be unforgivable.
Except that his endless confidence and can-do attitude were possibly what she admired and adored most in him.
The only way he could make her happy was to sweep her off her feet into a passionate embrace and tell her he loved her and wanted to marry her.
Except that kings didn’t marry secretaries from Pittsburgh. Even kings of funny little countries like Ruthenia.
“The vol-au-vents are done, cook’s wondering where to send them.”
Andi started at the sound of the events assistant coming through another doorway behind her.
“Why don’t you have someone bring them up for the first guests? And the celery stalks with the cheese filling.” She tucked the letter behind her back.
Livia nodded, her red curls bobbing about the collar of her white shirt, like it was just another evening.
Which of course it was, except that it was Andi’s last evening here.
“So did they ask you in for an interview?” Livia leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper.
“I cannot confirm or deny anything of that nature.”
“How are you going to manage an interview in New York when you’re imprisoned in a Ruthenian palace?”
Andi tapped the side of her nose. She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving. That would feel too much like a betrayal of Jake. Let them just wake up to find her gone.
Livia put her hands on her hips. “Hey, you can’t just take off back to New York without me. I told you about that job.”
“You didn’t say you wanted it.”
“I said I thought it sounded fantastic.”
“Then you should apply.” She wanted to get away. This conversation was not productive and she didn’t trust Livia to keep her secrets.
Livia narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I will.”
Andi forced a smile. “Save a vol-au-vent for me, won’t you?”
Livia raised a brow and disappeared back through the door.
Who would be in charge of choosing the menus and how the food should be served? The cook, probably, though she had quite a temper when she felt pressured. Perhaps Livia? She wasn’t the most organized person in the palace and she’d been skipped over for promotion a few times. Probably why she wanted to leave.
Either way, it wasn’t her problem and Jake would soon find someone to replace her. Her heart clenched at the thought, but she drew in a steadying breath and marched out into the hallway toward the foyer. She could hear the hum of voices as the first guests took off their luxurious coats and handed them to the footmen to reveal slinky evening gowns and glittering jewels.
Andi smoothed the front of her black slacks. It wasn’t appropriate for a member of staff to get decked out like a guest.
All eyes turned to the grand staircase as Jake descended to greet the ladies with a kiss on each cheek. Andi tried to ignore the jealousy flaring in her chest. How ridiculous. One of these girls was going to marry him and she had no business being bothered in any way.
“Could you fetch me a tissue?” asked Maxi Rivenshnell. The willowy brunette cast her question in Andi’s direction, without actually bothering to meet her gaze.
“Of course.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a folded tissue from the packet she kept on her. Maxi snatched it from her fingers and tucked it into the top of her long satin gloves without a word of thanks.
She didn’t exist for these people. She was simply there to serve them, like the large staff serving each of their aristocratic households.
A waiter appeared with a tray of champagne glasses and she helped to distribute them amongst the guests, then ushered people into the green drawing room where a fire blazed in a stone fireplace carved with the family crest.
Jake strolled and chatted with ease as the room filled with well-dressed Ruthenians. Several of them had only recently returned after decades of exile in places like London, Monaco and Rome, ready to enjoy Ruthenia’s promised renaissance after decades of failed socialism.
So far the promise was coming true. The rich were getting richer, and—thanks to Jake’s innovative business ideas—everyone else was, as well. Even the staunch anti-monarchists who’d opposed his arrival with protests in the streets now had to admit that Jake Mondragon knew what he was doing.
He’d uncovered markets for their esoteric agricultural products, and encouraged multinational firms to take advantage of Ruthenia’s strategic location in central Europe and its vastly underemployed workforce. The country’s GDP had risen nearly 400% in just three years, making eyeballs pop all across the globe.
Andi stiffened as Jake’s bold laugh carried through the air. She’d miss that sound. Was she really leaving? A sudden flash of panic almost made her reconsider.
Then she followed the laugh to its source and her heart seized as she saw Jake with his arm around yet another Ruthenian damsel—Carina Teitelhaus—whose blond hair hung in a silky sheet almost to her waist.
Andi tugged her gaze away and busied herself with picking up a dropped napkin. She would not miss seeing him draped over other women one bit. He joked that he was just trying to butter up their powerful parents and get them to invest in the country, but right now that seemed like one more example of how people were pawns to him rather than living beings with feelings.
He’d marry one of them just because it was part of his job. And she couldn’t bear to see that.
She needed to leave tonight, before he could use his well-practiced tongue to … Thoughts of his tongue sent an involuntary shiver through her.
Which was exactly why she needed to get out of here. And she wasn’t going to give him a chance to talk her out of it.
Jake pushed his dessert plate forward. He’d had all the sticky sweetness he could stand for one night. With Maxi on one side and Alia on the other, each vying to tug his attention from the other, he felt exhausted. Andi knew he liked to have at least one decent conversationalist seated next to him, yet she’d followed through on her threat to stick him between two of the most troublesome vixens in Ruthenia.
Speaking of which, where was Andi?
He glanced around the dining room. The flickering light from the candles along the table and walls created deep shadows, but he didn’t see her. Usually she hovered close by in case he needed something.
He summoned one of the servers. “Ulrike, have you seen Andi?”
The quiet girl shook her head. “Would you like me to find her, sir?”
“No, thanks, I’ll find her myself.” At least he would as soon as he could extricate himself from yet another eight-course meal. He couldn’t risk offending either of his bejeweled dinner companions with an early departure since their darling daddies were the richest and most powerful men in the region. Once things were settled, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about currying their favor, but while the economy was growing and changing and finding its feet in the world, he needed their flowing capital to oil its wheels.
He could see how men in former eras had found it practical to marry more than one woman. They were both pretty—Maxi a sultry brunette with impressive cleavage and Alia a graceful blonde with a velvet voice—but to be completely honest he didn’t want to marry either of them.
Carina Teitelhaus shot him a loaded glance from across the table. Her father owned a large factory complex with a lot of potential for expansion. And she didn’t hesitate to remind him of that.
Ruthenia’s noblewomen were becoming increasingly aggressive in pursuing the role of queen. Lately he felt as if he were juggling a bevy of flaming torches and the work of keeping them all in the air was wearing on his nerves. He’d committed to choosing a bride before Independence Day next week. At the time he’d made that statement the deadline had seemed impossibly far off and none of them were sure Ruthenia itself would even still be in existence.
Now it was right upon them, along with the necessity of choosing his wife or breaking his promise. Everyone in the room was painfully aware of each glance, every smile or laugh he dispensed in any direction. The dining table was a battlefield, with salvos firing over the silver.
Usually he could count on Andi to soothe any ruffled feathers with careful seating placements and subtly coordinated private trysts. Tonight, though, contrary to her promise, she’d left him in the lurch.
“Do excuse me, ladies.” He rose to his feet, avoiding all mascara-laden glances, and strode for the door.
Andi’s absence worried him. What if she really did leave? She was the anchor that kept the palace floating peacefully in the choppy seas of a changing Ruthenia. He could give her any task and just assume it was done, without a word of prompting. Her tact and thoughtfulness were exemplary, and her organizational skills were unmatched. He couldn’t imagine life without her.
After a short walk over the recently installed plum-colored carpets of the west hallway, he glanced into her ever-tidy office—and found it dark and empty. He frowned. She was often there in the evenings, which coincided with business hours in the U.S. and could be a busy time.
Her laptop was on the desk, as usual. That was a good sign.
Jake headed up the west staircase to the second floor, where most of the bedrooms were located. Andi had a large “family” bedroom rather than one of the pokey servants’ quarters on the third floor. She was family, dammit. And that meant she couldn’t pick up and leave whenever she felt like it.
A nasty feeling gripped his gut as he approached her closed door. He knocked on the polished wood and listened for movement on the other side.
Nothing.
He tried the handle and to his surprise the door swung open. Curiosity tickling his nerves, he stepped inside and switched on the light. Andi’s large room was neat and free of clutter—much like her desk. It looked like a hotel room, with no personal touches added to the rather extravagant palace décor. The sight of two black suitcases—open and packed—stopped him in his tracks.
She really was leaving.
Adrenaline surged through him. At least she hadn’t gone yet, or the bags would be gone, too. The room smelled faintly of that subtle scent she sometimes wore, almost as if she was in the room with him.
He glanced around. Could she be hiding from him?
He strode across the room and tugged open the doors of the massive armoire. His breath stopped for a second and he half expected to see her crouched inside.
Which of course she wasn’t. Her clothes were gone, though, leaving only empty hangers on the rod.
Anger warred with deep disappointment that she intended to abandon him like this. Did their six years together mean nothing to her?
She couldn’t leave without her suitcases. Perhaps he should take them somewhere she couldn’t find them. His room, for example.
Unfamiliar guilt pricked him. He didn’t even like the idea of her knowing he’d entered her room uninvited, let alone taken her possessions hostage. Andi was a stickler for honesty and had kept him aboveboard more times than he cared to remember. Taking her bags just felt wrong.
She’d said she’d leave as soon as the party was over. A woman of her word, she’d be sure to wait until the last guest was gone. As long as he found her before then, everything would be fine. He switched off the light and left the room as he’d found it.
He scanned the east hall as he headed for the stairs, a sense of foreboding growing inside him. The packed bags were an ominous sign, but he couldn’t really believe she’d abandon Ruthenia—and him.
“Jake, darling, we were wondering what happened to you,” Maxi called to him from the bottom of the stairs. “Colonel Von Deiter has volunteered to play piano while we dance.” She stretched out her long arm, as if inviting him to share the first dance with her.
Since coming to Ruthenia he sometimes felt he’d stepped into a schnitzel-flavored Jane Austen story, where people waltzed around ballrooms and gossiped behind fans. He was happier in a business meeting than on a dance floor, and right now he’d much rather be dictating a letter to Andi than twirling Maxi over the parquet.
“Have you seen Andi, my assistant?”
“The little girl who wears her hair in a bun?”
Jake frowned. He wasn’t sure exactly how old Andi was—mid-twenties, maybe?—but it seemed a bit rude for someone of twenty-two to call her a little girl. “She’s about five foot seven,” he said, with an arched brow. “And yes, she always wears her hair in a bun.”
Come to think of it, he’d literally never seen her hair down, which was pretty odd after six years. A sudden violent urge to see Andi with her hair unleashed swept through him. “I’ve looked all over the palace for her, but she’s vanished into thin air.”
Maxi shrugged. “Do come dance, darling.”
His friend Fritz appeared behind her. “Come on, Jake. Can’t let the ladies down. Just a twirl or two. I’m sure Andi has better things to do than wait on you hand and foot.”
“She doesn’t wait on me hand and foot. She’s a valued executive.”
Fritz laughed. “Is that why she’s always hovering around taking care of your every need?”
Jake stiffened. He never took Andi for granted. He knew just how dependent on her he was. Did she feel that he didn’t care?
Frowning, he descended the stairs and took Maxi’s offered hand. He was the host, after all. Two waltzes and a polka later he managed to slip out into the hallway.
“Any idea where Andi is?” he asked the first person he saw, who happened to be the night butler.
He shrugged in typical Ruthenian style. “Haven’t seen her in hours. Maybe she went to bed?”
Unlikely. Andi never left a party until the last guest had rolled down the drive. But then she’d never quit before, either. He was halfway up the stairs before he realized he was heading for her bedroom again.
Jake stared at her closed door. Was she in there? And if not, were her bags still there?
He knocked, but heard no movement from inside. After checking that the corridor was deserted, he knelt and peered through the keyhole. It was empty—no key on the inside—which suggested she was out. On the other hand, the pitch darkness on the other side meant he couldn’t see a thing.
He slipped in—didn’t she know better than to leave her door unlocked?—and switched on the light. The suitcases were still there. Closer inspection revealed that one of them had been partially unpacked, as if an item was removed. Still, there were no clues as to Andi’s whereabouts.
Frustration pricked his muscles. How could she just disappear like this?
At the foot of the stairs, Fritz accosted him, martini in hand. “When are you going to choose your bride, Jake? We’re all getting impatient.”
Jake growled. “Why is everyone so mad for me to get married?”
“Because there are precious few kings left in the world and you’re up for grabs. The rest of us are waiting to see who’s left. None of the girls dare even kiss us anymore, let alone do anything more rakish, in case they’re making themselves ineligible for a coronet. They’re all fighting for the chance to be called Your Majesty.”
“Then they’re all nuts. If anyone calls me ‘Your Majesty,’ I’ll fire ‘em.”
Fritz shoved him. “All bluster. And don’t deny you have some of the loveliest women in the world to choose from.”
“I wish the loveliest women in the world would take off for the night. I’m ready to turn in.” Or rather, ready to find and corner Andi.
Fritz cocked his head. “Party pooper. All right. I’ll round up the troops and march ‘em out for you.”
“You’re a pal.”
Jake watched the last chauffeured Mercedes disappear down the long driveway from the east patio. He needed some air to clear his head before tackling Andi—and watching from here ensured that she couldn’t leave without him seeing her.
Could he really stand to marry Maxi or Alia or any of these empty-headed, too-rich, spoiled brats? He’d been surrounded by their kind of women all his life, even in New York. Just the circle he’d been born into. You’d think a king would have more choices than the average Joe, but that was apparently not the case.
Something moving in the darkness caught his eye. He squinted, trying to make out what was crossing the lawn. An animal? Ruthenia had quite large deer that he was supposed to enjoy hunting.
But this creature was lighter, more upright, and moved with a kind of mystical grace. He stepped forward, peering into the gloom of a typical moonlit but cloudy night. The figure whirled and twirled on the lawn, pale fabric flowing around it.
A ghost? His back stiffened. The palace was nearly three hundred years old and built over a far more ancient structure. Tales of sieges and beheadings and people imprisoned in the dungeons rattled around the old stone walls.
Long, pale arms extended sideways as the figure twirled again. A female ghost.
Curiosity goaded him across the patio and down the stone stairs onto the lawn. He walked silently across the damp grass, eyes fixed on the strange apparition. As he drew closer he heard singing—soft and sweet—almost lost in the low breeze and the rustling of the trees.
Entranced, he moved nearer, enjoying the figure’s graceful movements and the silver magic of her voice.
He stopped dead when he realized she was singing in English.
“Andi?”
Despite the hair streaming over her shoulders and the long, diaphanous dress, he recognized his assistant of six years, arms raised to the moon, swaying and singing in the night.
He strode forward faster. “Are you okay?”
She stopped and stared at him and the singing ceased. Her eyes shone bright in the darkness.
“What are you doing out here?” He walked right up to her, partly to prove to himself that she was real and not a figment of his imagination. His chest swelled with relief. At least now he’d found her and they could have that talk he’d been rehearsing in his head all night.
“Why don’t we go inside?” He reached out for her hand, almost expecting his own to pass through it. She still looked so spectral, smiling in the cloud-veiled moonlight.
But the hand that seized his felt warm. Awareness snapped through him as her fingers closed around his. Her hair was longer than he’d imagined. Almost to the peaks of her nipples, which jutted out from the soft dress. He swallowed. He’d never noticed what … luxurious breasts Andi had. They were usually hidden under tailored suits and crisp blouses.
He struggled to get back on task. “We need to talk.”
Andi’s grip tightened on his, but she didn’t move. Her face looked different. Transfixed, somehow. Her eyes sparkling and her lips glossy and parted. Was she drunk?
“You must be cold.” On instinct he reached out to touch her upper arm, which was bare in the floaty evening gown she wore. As he drew closer, her free arm suddenly wrapped around his waist with force.
Jake stilled as she lifted her face to his. She smelled of that same soft scent she always wore, not a trace of alcohol, just flowers and sweetness. He groped for words, but failed to find any as her lips rose toward his.
Next thing he knew he was kissing her full—and hard—on the mouth.
