years.
His family resided in a large wing toward the center of the house with the majority of the rooms overlooking the cliffs that fell off into the glorious turquoise sea. Before Vivienne had come to live in the palace windows had been barred and locked, as one of the former rulers, Marco Vansig, had not been a particularly kind man, thus soliciting more enemies than he could eventually ward off. Under Vivienne’s progressive and feminine hand the barred windows were removed and replaced with practical weather-resistant glass ones that sparkled and brought in every ounce of sunlight and the island’s magnificent view.
Kris’s father, Rafe, had the largest group of rooms in that wing of the house as the reigning prince of the island. Kris and each of his younger siblings, Sam and Roland, had their own rooms situated among the areas of the massive dwelling in a way that provided them all with the privacy they seemed to desire. It wasn’t easy living under the titles they held, finding solace within the walls of their private rooms was sometimes all they could manage. At least it was that way for Kris.
As the crown prince, the one who would ultimately succeed his father in ruling their country, Kris carried a tremendous weight on his shoulders. One which was now causing a great deal of stress for him.
“I am not your average woman, I suspect,” Sam replied to his question with a quirk of her lips. “I love beautiful clothes and accessories, but I like to have the final say in what I wear or purchase for that matter.”
She always looked good, Kris thought, as he stared across his desk at his sister—younger than him by six years—looking vaguely amused by their conversation. Samantha Raine DeSaunters was a beautiful woman with her smooth milk-chocolate complexion, and thick coal-black hair. Her skin tone and assessing eyes came from their father, while her outgoing personality and the innate need to take care of everyone around her were undoubtedly traits obtained from their mother.
“I think it’s safe to say that you are nothing like Malayka Sampson,” was Kris’s dry response.
Sam agreed with the nod of her head. “I don’t know that there is anyone like her. Did you know that she has already begun planning the wedding?”
Kris sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap, a position in which he could easily be mistaken for his father. “The date is set for December first. The date has significance to her and she wants a grand celebration. Those were Dad’s exact words.”
“And he plans to give it to her?” Sam asked.
“He does.”
She cursed.
It was soft and way too dainty to carry much weight, still Kris realized the severity of the situation at hand especially because it made his normally pleasant sister vent in such a way.
Malayka Sampson was engaged to their father. She was a thirty-seven-year-old American who would, in just seven months, become the princess of Grand Serenity Island. As such she would manage Wonderland...no, that was his mother’s. It belonged only to her. It always would. Malayka would manage the palace and she would take over much of the community and public relations duties that Sam now held. She would become the new face and voice of the island, while his father continued to rule via business and policy the way his father had before him.
“I don’t like her and neither does Roland,” Sam told him.
Her words came as no surprise to Kris. Sam and Roland tended to agree on a number of things. Kris was the one who was usually treading on the outside of the sibling bond. That was part of his birthright as his father had taught him from the time he’d been old enough to speak. He was the future ruler, thus he had to lead, always.
“She makes Dad happy,” Kris replied. “That is all that matters.” For now, he thought, wisely keeping that last part to himself.
“She makes me want to do bodily harm and you know that is not my character,” Sam added with a slight chuckle.
“I know. But there are more pressing matters at hand. The Children’s Hospital brunch is coming up later this week and the Ambassador’s Ball is later this month. Is everything in order?”
Sam nodded, looking down at the notepad she’d brought with her into his office. “Just a few final details for each event and they’re all set. As I mentioned when I came in, I have meetings with the board of directors at the hospital tomorrow and after that, I’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon at the Bella Club.”
Kris nodded as he reached for a pen to make note of his sister’s whereabouts the following day. He also had access to her business calendar on the private network the monarch shared. Roland’s and Rafe’s business calendars were also available to him. However, Sam had a number of personal ventures that meant a lot to her. Kris respected that and envied his sister’s passion in helping wherever she could. The Bella Club was an organization Sam had started to offer refuge, counseling and rehabilitation to troubled young adults between the ages of thirteen and eighteen.
“That sounds good,” he said as a thought entered his mind. “Would you mind taking Landry Norris with you tomorrow?”
“Who? Oh, the personal stylist?” she asked with a lift of her precisely arched brows. “Why would I do that? She’s Malayka’s employee, not mine.”
“She is a guest in the palace and a tourist. You are on the board of tourism.”
“So are you,” she countered.
Kris didn’t bother to frown, even though he completely recognized the never-ending sibling game that often had each of the royal children pointing out the other’s duties to see who had the most on their plate. Kris always won, hands down. Which was why, this time, he was delegating the responsibility.
“I’m meeting with the finance board at nine. That will take up at least three hours of my day. Dad and I then have a late lunch scheduled with Quirio Denton, the real estate mogul who wants to build his next resort here on the island. I won’t be available again until dinner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And as you know, because you’ve been doing this since you were sixteen, it is our practice to provide a detailed tour of the island to visitors of the palace within twenty-four hours of their arrival.”
She gave a slight nod. “That’s when we know they are arriving and when we’ve invited them. Malayka hired this woman without consulting any of us. I say let her conduct the tour,” Sam rebutted. “It would give her practice since it will soon be one of her duties as princess.”
That title, above Sam’s other words, echoed throughout the room.
“She’s not the princess yet,” Kris remarked, in a tone that was much stronger than he’d anticipated.
Sam tapped her fingers on her notepad. “Fine. I will take the stylist with me. It’ll give me the chance to find out more about Malayka and why she really wants to marry our father.”
“I don’t know if you’ll get much by way of gossip from this Landry Norris. She strikes me as a professional.”
“Oh really?” Sam asked, this time leaning forward tossing him a knowing grin. “What else about her strikes you, big brother?”
Kris looked away. He concentrated on the notes he was jotting down, instead of his sister’s question, which made him uncomfortable.
“I performed a
