Chapter One
Joslyn
I never hated parties until I became a handler of sorts for Prince Aramis. Now, hearing the word party makes my anxiety soar. I despise him. And parties. But mostly him for making me hate parties. I shouldered past a woman, then another, and another. They’re all wearing sequins and their dresses are so short I’d bet money he’d already seen all of their privates, though that was easy money. After all, this was Aramis we were talking about. Playboy of the century. Partier for the ages. He was quintessentially Jay Gatsby in modern day, if Jay Gatsby had been a prince and had everything and everyone at their beck and call. When I first met Aramis, I’d fallen head over heels for him. At first sight. These days, thinking back on that time, I knew it was because I’d gone to an all-girl school all my life and had very little exposure to boys. When you live in a bubble and with little experiences with boys and meet one in the midst of your hormones raging, well, let’s just say losing my virginity to the one and only Aramis had been a no-brainer. Thankfully, of all the crude annoyances that came out of his mouth, that experience wasn’t one of them. I had to give at least that much to the man—he had a little bit of respect for me.
“Oh, there she is, the bitch in red,” he shouted upon my entrance.
A little bit of respect for me. A little bit. I sighed heavily, turning the lights on, walking over to the table and switching the multicolor stage lights off and unplugging the DJ’s speakers—back, to back, to back, to back. Everyone groaned and complained all at once. I looked around at all of them—disgusting, sweating, inebriated, drugged out, dancing, fucking, sinful creatures, and shook my head, as if I were their mother. Rather than be mad at myself for being this prudish, I turned my glare on Aramis, who was sitting in a chair, much like a throne, with one leg propped up and the other on the floor, a goofy drunken smile on his face.
“Everyone, get out,” I said loudly, still staring at him.
“Aw, but the party was just getting started, Boss,” he said.
“Out,” I shouted. “Out, out, out, out, out!”
“On whose orders?” a random guy shouted from somewhere in the room.
“By order of The Crown. Do you need me to have you arrested?” I yelled even louder.
Everyone seemed to get a clue and rushed out of the room.
“I need to put my things away.” That was the DJ.
“It’s fine.” I kicked away an empty beer can and walked over to Aramis, standing a few feet away from him. “You’re supposed to stay home healing.”
“I’m home.” He sat up in the chair with a flinch. “Fuck, that hurt.”
I shut my eyes briefly before turning around and fetching him a water bottle from the small refrigerator in the corner of the room. I hated that he dealt with pain by getting drunk and high and God only knew what else. The only thing Aramis wasn’t using to ease his pain these days were women and I had a feeling it was because he didn’t love what he saw in the mirror. The fiery car accident he’d been in a couple of months ago had changed him in that sense at least. If I was being honest with myself, I felt bad for him and a part of me wished he would go back to being the playboy who slept around. Mostly, I just wanted him to calm down so that I wouldn’t have all of this responsibility weighing on my shoulders. I grabbed a glass water bottle and twisted the cap off as I walked over to him.
“I had to leave my date with David early because of this party.” I handed him the bottle. He closed his hand over mine and pulled me closer with the bottle. I gasped in surprise, my heart hammering. I hated when he did things like that.
“Your date with David?” he asked, his alcohol-infused breath tickling my nose. I pulled back and tried handing him the bottle again. This time, he took it without pulling me along.
“Yes, my date with David.”
“Why were you on a date with David?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” He frowned and made a face like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Still. David.”
I didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he acted like a jealous boyfriend or the fact that he acted that way but never showed any interest in me otherwise. I had to assume this jealousy thing was just him being bitter about the fact that maybe I had someone and he had nobody at all. Yet another reason why finding him a match was a good idea.
“Well, you need to be ready tomorrow. We’re all going to Versailles for the next few weeks and I personally would rather not make the commute back and forth for dumb things, so please make sure you pack everything you need.” I stepped away and started walking back toward the door.
“Help me pack.”
“Why?” I groaned, throwing my head back. I should have known this was coming.
“I’m no good at packing; you don’t want to make the commute. Help me pack.”
“Fine.” I walked past him and headed straight toward his bedroom.
Aramis didn’t live in a palace, but he might as well have. He had two entire apartment floors to himself. Everyone in the royal family lived this way. It was a downgrade from a palace, but a definite upgrade from the way everyone else lived. My three-hundred-square-foot flat was the size of just one of Aramis’s closets, and he had a lot of them. I walked over to his luggage closet, that was big enough to hold ten people’s travel equipment and their emotional baggage all in one. Rolling two suitcases out of there, I walked back to his bedroom and lay them out on the floor.
“You don’t expect me to pack your underwear for you as well, do you?” I called out. “Because that’s where I draw the line.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen my underwear.” He walked into the room, finishing off the water in his hand.
“Are you going to keep reminding me of the mistake I made when I was a teenager?”
“Mistake?” His eyebrows shot up. “Once is a mistake. Three times . . . well, I think most would consider that a habit.”
“Habits can be mistakes too.” I smiled at him. “I mean, look at all the people who smoke cigarettes.”
“Now you’re comparing me to things that can kill you?” He smirked. “Should I be flattered?”
I sighed, refusing to answer him. Truth be told, if I didn’t know him as well as I did, I might just consider Aramis a deadly weapon. It was the way he looked at you, the way he smiled, the way he held everyone’s attention with little effort. He was smart, funny, charming, and wicked sexy. All things I had to ignore every single day while I was around him because despite all of those things, he was also a heartbreaker. He ran through women the way Olympians ran across finish lines. That was his sport. And I couldn’t handle being another notch on his bedpost.
Chapter Two
Aramis
My head was killing me and the fact that my mother couldn’t get a clue and stop talking wasn’t helping. I’d tuned her out halfway through her rant about my behavior, which was difficult to do since we were sharing a car to Versailles. She talked about me as if I was an impertinent child who needed to be put in timeout. I tried not to let it get to me. The only reason I’d agreed to even come to Versailles for holiday was because I could leave any time I wanted. Elias always had a helicopter on the pad, waiting to cater to his guests, and if I felt the need to take a little trip out of there I would. It wasn’t like any of us liked being there. It was haunted. I wasn’t going to say no though. Not when my sister-in-law, Addie, was due to give birth any minute. The little prince would be my first nephew and I couldn’t wait to meet him.