Expecting Royal Twins! / To Dance with a Prince: Expecting Royal Twins! / To Dance with a Prince

He hadn’t looked happy when he’d handed her off to a maid named Mare. Izzy hadn’t been as polite as she could have been. Being tired had contributed, but she didn’t like being bossed around. She wasn’t one of Niko’s subjects. He seemed to forget she was an American. He couldn’t tell her what to do.

The image of his ruggedly handsome face formed in her mind. Those to-die-for blue-green eyes. That dark mane of hair. His killer…

What was she doing thinking about him? Izzy opened her eyes.

Darkness filled the room. That was weird. Some natural light had been filtering in through the large windows when she lay down.

Oh, no. Panic spurted through her. Had she slept too long?

Bolting upright, she glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Only two and a half hours had passed.

Relief washed over her. But why was the room so dark?

She glanced around, allowing her eyes to adjust. Her gaze rested on the closed yellow damask drapes. They’d been open before she fell asleep.

Izzy squirmed with uneasiness. She had lived alone for the last five years and wasn’t used to anyone being around when she slept. A good thing she wouldn’t be here long.

She tossed back the covers and slid from the bed. Her bare feet sunk into a thick, colorful rug covering the hardwood floors.

Talk about living large. The grandeur of the interior exceeded the castle’s fairy-tale exterior. She felt as if she were staying in a museum with antique furniture, famous paintings and exquisite tapestries. Everything looked so expensive she didn’t want to touch anything she could break.

Inside the expansive bathroom, Izzy found her toiletry kit sitting on the gold-veined marble countertop. Someone must have removed it from her duffel bag. Having people do everything for you was really weird.

A thick, plush white robe hung on a gold hook. She ran her fingertips over the soft fabric. The robe was nicer than any of the clothing she had brought with her. A good thing she was going shopping.

Izzy brushed her teeth in the gold sink. Everything was gold, from the faucets to the gold seals on the pretty soap wrappers. Even the fluffy white towels had gold embroidery on the bottom portion. Uncle Frank would have gotten a kick out of this big gold bathroom.

She felt a familiar tug at her heart.

Then again, he hadn’t been a simple car mechanic. He would have been used to castles and bathrooms like this. Living in a motor home had been the opposite extreme. Had he been hiding her? Or maybe Uncle Frank had wanted to give her as normal a life as possible, not one with gold sinks. Izzy believed he’d kept the past a secret and raised her the way he did for a reason.

Aleksander and Evangaline Zvonimir might have been her birth parents, but Frank Miroslav had been Izzy’s father. He had wiped her tears when she hurt herself, boosted her self-confidence when the kids at school teased her for being different, and taught her everything she knew and loved about cars. He’d saved her life by leaving his own family to raise her in another country. She was only beginning to comprehend what he’d given up for her. It was too late to say thank-you, but Izzy wanted to make it up to him somehow. Maybe she could find his relatives and tell them how wonderful he’d been to her.

Emotion clogged her throat. She shook it off. The way she’d learned to do these last five years.

A shower would make her feel better. She turned on the water. As she undressed, steam filled the bathroom. She stepped into the large shower.

Hot water pulsed down on her as if she were standing in a heated waterfall. She nearly sighed at the decadence of the oversize showerhead.

Okay, Izzy grinned, comfy beds and amazing showers were definitely perks to being a princess. She could even forgive the invasion of privacy while she slept. A shower like this could make her forgive and forget most everything.

Normally she finished showering in a couple of minutes due to the size of the RV’s tiny water heater. This time, Izzy stayed in until her fingertips shriveled like raisins.

Best shower ever.

She turned off the water, dried off with a towel, slipped into the luxurious robe and combed her hair.

Out in the bedroom, she padded to her duffel bag. It wasn’t where she’d left it.

Izzy looked around. Her backpack sat on the table, but her duffel bag was nowhere to be seen. That was odd. The purple would be hard to miss against the yellow and gold decor.

Maybe whoever placed her toiletry bag in the bathroom had put the duffel bag away. Izzy checked inside the gilded armoire. Empty hangers hung on the rack. She slid out the two drawers. No bag or clothing. She checked under the bed. Nothing there, either.

This wasn’t good. She wanted to get dressed.

Izzy had the clothes she’d worn on the flight, but she didn’t relish the thought of putting them on again. They were dirty, and she was clean.

Her cell phone was no use. Anyone she could call was half a world away and asleep. They couldn’t tell her where to find her duffel bag.

She thought for a moment. Only one explanation made sense. Someone must have taken her bag. To wash the clothes, iron them, who knew why?

A castle this size had to have a large staff. She would flag someone down and ask how to contact Mare.

Izzy poked her head out of her room. The wide hallway was empty. Waiting for someone to appear, she shoved her hands into the deep pockets of the robe. No one came.

“Is anyone out there?” she half whispered.

No reply.

Come on. Izzy grew impatient. This was a castle for goodness’ sake. Maids and butlers should be running around. She would have to find someone herself.

She tightened the belt of her robe

Stepping into the hallway, Izzy left the door to her room open. She wanted to remember which room was hers.

The farther she moved away from her room, the more antsy Izzy became. Walking around with wet hair, barefoot and wearing nothing but a robe was not exactly princesslike. A castle probably had rules. Ones she would know. Maybe she should go back.

She was about to turn around when a white-haired man exited a room. The older gentleman was tall, wore a nice suit and walked with a slight limp. On closer look, she noticed he had a prosthetic leg.

No matter what side you were on, we are all marked in some way by the conflict. Some scars are visible. Others are not.

Niko hadn’t been kidding. Izzy couldn’t believe an old man had to fight in the war. Maybe he’d been a soldier at the beginning. Unless he’d just been a casualty. Thinking about what these people had endured made her heart ache.

He headed in a different direction.

She ran up to him. “Excuse me.”

The man stopped. His eyes widened when he saw her.

“Do you work here?” she asked.

He blinked. “I do.”

“Finally.”

He studied her with probing green eyes. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Izzy. I arrived this morning from the United States.”

“Welcome, Izzy.” His smile deepened the lines on his face. “I’m Dee.”

“Nice to meet you, Dee.” In spite of all the wrinkles, he was still attractive. He must have been really handsome when he was younger. She couldn’t help but think of Niko. “I’m in a bind. My bag with my clothing has disappeared. I searched the room, but can’t find it.”

“Oh, dear, that is quite a predicament.”

She nodded. “I don’t imagine trickster ghosts haunt this place?”

“No, though we do have our share of skeletons in the closet.”

“That’s what I figured.” She felt more comfortable with the staff than royalty. One more reason she wasn’t cut out to be a princess. “I’m sure you have work to do, but would you please tell me how I might locate Mare? She was assigned to help me, and I’m wondering if she knows where my bag might be.”

“Part of my job is making sure everything runs the way it is supposed to around here.”

“Oh, you’re the castle manager.”

“Something like that.” He sounded amused. “I don’t know where Mare is, but I know where we can find your clothes.”

“Great.”

Dee extended his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”

She took his arm. “Thanks.”

He walked with a steady stride. His leg didn’t slow him down. “What do you think of Vernonia so far, Izzy?”

“I didn’t see much during the drive from the airport, but this castle—” she looked up at a fresco painted on the ceiling “—it’s straight out of a fairy tale.”

“I hope the accommodations are to your liking.”

“They are lovely. Thank you,” she said. “I wanted to stay at a hotel, but Prince Niko wanted me to stay here. He said I would be more comfortable.”

“I hope you are comfortable.”

“I’ve only been here a few hours, but I’ve already had a nice nap and a wonderful shower.”

“An excellent start,” Dee said.

Izzy nodded. She wondered if Niko would agree. Earlier he couldn’t wait to get away from her. No doubt he wanted her visit to be a short one. At least they agreed on something.

“I believe what you seek is inside here.” Dee stopped in front of a pair of wide double doors and opened one of them. “These ballroom doors are heavier than they look.”

She peered inside and gasped. This wasn’t a ballroom. This was a clothing store.

Mannequins, decked out in elaborate outfits with matching accessories, fought for space on the parquet floor between racks of clothing and shoes. Stylishly dressed women bustled about in short skirts and high heels, carrying purses, lingerie and shoes. A mix of perfumes lingered in the air.

The room looked to be a pumped up, steroid-version of What Not to Wear. This was so not the kind of shopping Izzy had in mind. She struggled to breathe.

Some women might tingle with excitement at the thought of being let loose among all these clothes and shoes, but the sight filled Izzy with dread. Fashion didn’t interest her in the slightest. She was into comfort, not style. Worse, these women had gone to all this trouble for her. Niko and Jovan, too.

Near a three-paneled mirror, she noticed a man who looked out of place among all the feminine finery.

Not just a man. Niko.

He’d showered, shaved and changed suits. He looked like he had at the garage—hot. She wasn’t the only one who thought so. A few of the other women kept stealing glances.

Niko didn’t seem to notice. He was engaged in a conversation with a gorgeous blonde supermodel. Feeling more out of place than before, Izzy crossed her arms over her stomach.

Dee cleared his throat.

Conversations stopped. Women froze in place. Heads bowed. Eyes lowered.

“What’s happening?” she whispered and moved closer to Dee.

“Do not worry.” He smiled down at her. “Everything is fine, Izzy.”

Niko stared intently at her, making her question the fine part. “What are you—”

“Izzy’s bag with her clothing disappeared from her room,” Dee said, rather bravely Izzy thought considering the fierce expression on Niko’s face. “I offered her my assistance.”

“The women needed her sizes so they borrowed her bag, Father.”

Realization hit Izzy between the eyes. She inhaled sharply. “Dee as in Dmitar.”

“Yes, my dear,” Dee said.

“Oh, no.” Her cheeks burned. She pulled the robe tighter as if she could somehow disappear into its folds. “You’re the king, the one who emailed me about the box, and I’m an idiot.”

“Father—”

King Dmitar held up his hand the way Niko had done with Jovan.

Niko remained silent. Izzy had forgotten about that trick, but made a note to remember it for later.

“You’re not an idiot, Izzy,” King Dmitar said kindly. “You are delightful. I see the best of your parents in you.”

Emotion tightened her throat. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“As for my son …” King Dmitar turned his attention to Niko. “Izzy does not know our ways. She should not be left on her own and forced to figure out where her clothing disappeared to.”

Niko bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

King Dmitar turned his attention back to her. “And a suggestion, Izzy.”

“Yes, Dee.” She cringed at her lapse. “I mean, Your Majesty.”

“Queen Beatrice does not like the color pink. You may wish to keep that in mind while shopping.”

“Thanks for the tip, sir.” Izzy smiled, trying to make the best of the situation. “I’m not much into pink myself.”

“Excellent.” The king eyed the racks of dresses. “The queen does like the color purple. As do I.”

“I’ll remember that, sir. Thank you.”

He focused on each person in the room until his gaze came to rest on the stunning blonde who had been talking with Niko. The king pressed his lips together for a moment. “I see you are in good hands. I will leave you to your shopping.”

With that, the king departed.

As soon as the doors closed, the women went back to carrying accessories to the mannequins. The blonde, who had been speaking with Niko, supervised them.

Izzy blew out a puff of air. “I can’t believe that was your father.”

Niko stood next to her with an irritated look in his eyes. “Who did you think he was?”

“The castle manager.”

The irritation vanished. Niko laughed. “I suppose that is one of his job responsibilities.”

“You’re not helping.”

Niko raised a brow. “I didn’t think you needed anyone’s help.”

Izzy made a face at him.

“You may have trouble finding an outfit to go with that expression,” he teased.

“I’m sure I can find an outfit to match every expression as well as one to wear each hour of the day. I thought I was going shopping at a store or a mall.” She motioned to all the clothing. “It’s a bit … much, don’t you think?”

“Not for a princess,” Niko said. “There will be dinners, outings, appearances at the High Court.”

“I won’t be here that long.”

“Long enough.”

Izzy tried to take it all in. Tried and failed. “I think I’m beginning to understand what Cinderella might have gone through.”

“Except in your case the shoe already fits.”

“But we want to get it off as soon as possible.”

“That is the plan.”

He sounded excited. Izzy set her chin. “You know, dude, I want the annulment just as badly as you do.”

Before he could reply, the supermodel hurried over, walking on high heels as if she were wearing tennis shoes. She probably taught Pilates, cooked like a gourmet chef and rescued orphans from third-world countries in her spare time. The woman smiled, showing off two rows of perfectly spaced white teeth. The boys at the garage would be comatose in her presence. “You must be Princess Isabel.”

“Isabel,” Niko said. “This is Her Royal Highness Princess Julianna Von Schneckel of Aliestle.”

Julianna. Niko’s girlfriend and future wife. She was also a princess. No wonder he couldn’t wait to annul the marriage and marry a woman who exuded so much confidence and beauty even a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model would be intimidated.

Izzy was out of her element in every possible way. She forced her foot to stop tapping.

Julianna extended her arm. Everything about the princess was perfect right down to her manicured and polished fingernails. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Isabel.”

She shook her hand. Julianna’s grip was firm and her hands rougher than Izzy expected them to be. “And you.”

Niko watched them with interest. No doubt comparing his current wife to his future one.

A chilling thought inched its way down Izzy’s spine. She hoped he wasn’t planning to stay while she tried on clothing. This was going to be difficult enough without him here watching or, worse, providing commentary.

“Thanks for arranging all this, Niko.” Izzy tried to sound as cheerful as she could. “But I’m sure you have better things to do with your time so don’t feel you have to stick around. As your father said, I’m in good hands.”

“You’re in excellent hands,” Niko said. “But I have a few minutes before my meeting.”

Bummer, Izzy thought.

“You keep Isabel company, Niko,” Julianna said. “I want to get everyone in their places.”

People had places? Izzy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“It won’t be that bad,” Niko said, as soon as Julianna was out of earshot.

“Want to trade places?” Izzy asked.

“My legs weren’t meant for dresses.”

“Mine, either. I mean, I haven’t worn a dress since …” Uncle Frank’s funeral, she realized. “It’s been a long time.”

“You’ll look fine.”

She shrugged. “New clothing isn’t going to turn me into a princess.”

“Whether you wear a pair of coveralls or a dress by Chanel, you are already a princess,” he said. “But new clothing might help you feel more comfortable here.”

She stared at the large crystal chandeliers hanging from the ballroom ceiling. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You only just arrived.”

“I’m not like her.”

“Her?”

“Your girlfriend. Princess Julianna.”

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