The Princess and the Player Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by J. Santiago

  Published by Angela St. James, LLC.

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at jsantiagoauthor.com

  Cover Designer: Elizabeth Mackey

  Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9969558-8-1 (E-book)

  To Critter and Misty—

  My big sister and my soul sister.

  I will cherish Barcelona—always.

  To Tauara, Xander, Nico, and Lucas.

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  Epilogue

  Other Novels By J. Santiago

  About the Author

  1

  29 March

  Welston House

  “Your Highness? Are you ready for Prince James?”

  “Of course, Millie,” Eleanor answered, suppressing a sigh as she struggled under the weight of formality.

  Millie curtsied with a slight bow of her head.

  Ele pretended not to see her private secretary and closest friend defer to her in the confines of her office. It was feign ignorance or acknowledge her annoyance. She could almost hear her mother remind her of protocol and appearances. Here, in the palace, it was normally easy to don the trappings of her station. But for her beloved twin brother to need an appointment to speak to her seemed foolish.

  Millie opened the door and curtsied again as Jamie entered.

  “Millie, really?” he said as he touched Millie’s shoulder in greeting.

  Jamie’s ability to ease those around him was his special gift. One Ele did not possess. Millie looked at Jamie, and from across the space of her office, Ele could see the adoration deeply embedded in her friend’s gaze. She understood it. It was so easy to adore Jamie. Even now, as he made his way to her, Ele fought the instinct to hurl herself into his arms. His two-week tour of Southern Africa had been thirteen days too long.

  When he reached her, she raised her cheek for their customary greeting. Jamie smirked before he pulled her into an impromptu and improper embrace. Royals did not hug in front of staff. Aware of their audience and perhaps Ele’s discomfort, he quickly released her. Ele ran her hands down her skirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles before she turned abruptly and sat in her desk chair. Jamie unbuttoned his suit jacket before folding elegantly into the seat across from her.

  Ele looked to Millie and nodded, expecting her to clear the room. Instead, Charlotte, Jamie’s assistant, entered, followed by Robert, the head of Ele’s security, and Will, the head of Jamie’s. Ele looked questioningly at Robert. His impassive expression heightened her latent anxiety. Her heart began a throbbing rhythm, which seemed to pulse through her fingertips. Had the room been filled with strangers, Ele’s routine of fighting the anxiety attack would have gone unnoticed. The folding of her hands to quell the shaking, the deeply drawn inhale and then exhale to fight off the possibility of hyperventilation, the biting down on her lower lip to contain the need to scream.

  “Eleanor.”

  Ele’s eyes snapped to Jamie’s. Between them, their uncanny silent dialogue commenced.

  You are okay.

  You shouldn’t have ambushed me like this.

  I promise, this is minor.

  Are you sure?

  I promise you.

  The wave of panic receded with Jamie’s silent assurances.

  Then, he began as if nothing were amiss, “As a patron of the National Football Federation, I make a number of appearances, especially every fourth year for the World Championship Cup.”

  Ele nodded. Each of the siblings championed a number of causes, but there were things more important than others. Ele was interested in bringing clean water to third-world nations. And while Jamie had similar good causes he was devoted to, he loved football. This year was particularly exciting for him because their rather small nation had a chance of advancing far in the World Championship—according to Jamie.

  “The national pool was announced last week, and the first official practice is scheduled in three days’ time.”

  Ele suddenly knew where this was going.

  “The queen informed me that I am to proceed directly to Spain tomorrow even though—”

  “You just got back,” Ele finished for him.

  “Right.”

  “James,” Ele began, “I don’t think—”

  Jamie put his hand up, saying, “Just hear me out.”

  Ele breathed deep and offered a slight nod.

  “Juliana was scheduled to go with me, as both an introduction and an education. She is to take on the Equestrian Society, and the queen insisted she needs”—he paused, probably trying to come up with a word that would not be embarrassing for Juliana—“mentoring.” He winked, and Ele fought a smile. “You wouldn’t be alone.”

  Traveling with their younger sister, Juliana, wasn’t much of a comfort. She was the darling of the press corps and the paps alike. The shadow cast by Juliana’s effervescence was both a place to hide in obscurity and disappear in plain sight.

  Jamie knew this and hurried on. “It’s a quick meet and greet with the full team. Then, Ramsey and a couple of his players will give you a tour of the training grounds. There’s no speaking required, no questions from the press on the agenda.”

  Ele raised a brow, clearly calling bullshit without saying a word.

  “Of course, the corps will travel with you, but that’s not anything different than any other public appearance. But just think of it; you’ll get to meet Nico Ramsey.”

  Even Eleanor, who gave football as much thought as she gave the mucking of the stables, was suitably impressed to be able to meet Sir Nicolas Ramsey. He’d been knighted when he led their national team to victory sixteen years ago.

  “Have you not met him?”

  Jamie crossed his left leg over his knee, relaxing now that he had piqued her interest. “Not since I was a tyke. Shame, that.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Eleanor, you know I wouldn’t miss this if I didn’t have to. And it’s not like I’m asking you to attend the annual meeting of the philatelic society. It’s our national football team.”

  “Philatelic?”

  Jamie shook his head. “Stamp collectors.”

  Ele grinned. “I’d probably enjoy that more.”

  Someone in the room snickered but disguised it as a hacking cough.

  “Now, you’re just being cruel.”

  “When have I ever said no
to you, James?”

  The question went unanswered. Everyone present knew Jamie was Eleanor’s Achilles heel. Their bond had been cemented by birth, circumstance, and Jamie’s fight against Leukemia as an adolescent. She would refuse him nothing. This meeting today, this request—the answer was a foregone conclusion. Ele appreciated the ask, but even if James were merely her twin, it wasn’t as if she could refuse the crown prince.

  Ele shifted her attention from her brother to Robert. “I assume you have worked out a plan?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. You’ll have to leave early. The session is scheduled for ten o’clock. But you should be able to be back here the same night. Millie rearranged your appearances, so everything is handled.”

  Jamie had known these details, the small technicalities, would alleviate the stress of the schedule change.

  “How much time will we be at the training grounds?”

  Ele and Robert exchanged a quick glance.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s covered, Your Highness.”

  “Can we have the room?” Jamie asked.

  Charlotte and Will moved first. Although Jamie had requested time with his sister, Millie and Robert deferred to Ele. She nodded her agreement, and they followed Jamie’s people from the room.

  When the door shut behind the entourage, Jamie stood, making his way to the mullioned windows. Rain beat down, obscuring the view and providing a lazy melody in the background. From her chair, Ele could see the worry on her brother’s face but knew there was little she could do to assuage it. The weight of the kingdom was a heavy load to haul.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he began.

  “Of course not. I asked in front of you. I knew, given a moment, you would know exactly what I was asking.”

  “I thought …” Jamie’s voice trailed off.

  He didn’t need to utter the words for Ele to know what he would have said. He thought the time of their parents’ assassination didn’t matter to her anymore. He turned toward her and leaned against the sill, crossing his arms in front of him. His stern big-brother—by two minutes—look. Ele saw it enough but rarely did he suit up like this for her.

  “You hadn’t mentioned it in so long. I thought perhaps you didn’t notice anymore.”

  Ele would have preferred to hold his gaze, but like the coward she was, she looked away from him. “You’ve been so busy over the last year; you just haven’t noticed. I know the exact time is insignificant. Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place. But nothing has changed. Not really.” The statement lingered. “Have things changed for you? Significant things?”

  Jamie moved closer, perching on the edge of her desk, as if proximity could make the conversation easier. She didn’t want to think about her brother experiencing things without her. But it was hard for their paths to cross consistently even though they shared the same residence.

  “No, no changes. Are you sure you are okay with this”—he waved his hand toward her calendar—“trip?”

  “If I wasn’t, I would have found a way to get out of it.”

  They shared a grin.

  “I think it will be fun for you. Something different. But also, it’s important right now. With the current political situation, it’s vital to give our country something to celebrate. And there’s nothing we love more than football.”

  She shrugged. There were things she could say, inequities she could point out. But Jamie wouldn’t, couldn’t waver in his support of the crown on the issue of independence. To even ask him to share his thoughts would put him in a difficult situation.

  “You could use some fun,” Jamie remarked, conveniently changing the subject.

  “What makes this seem like such fun to you?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought … your appearances are so staid. You know, your stamp collectors union and all,” he said with a wink. She opened her mouth to argue, but Jamie was quick to continue, “I know you love your committee work. But when was the last time you let go and cut loose?”

  Ele shrugged. “My definition of ‘having fun,’ ” she quoted, “has changed in the last twelve years. And really, your great idea for me to have a good time is to send me out on an official event. Perhaps your definition has changed too.”

  Jamie grinned. “It wasn’t planned that way. It just happened.”

  “Of course it did.”

  “Have you seen some of the lads? I heard they put together a calendar. Figured, if nothing else, you would have pretty faces to look at.”

  Ele’s hand flew to her chest, her eyes widening. Head swiveling, she glanced around the room before scooting her chair back and peeking under the desk. “Thank goodness there aren’t any paps around. What kind of comment is that for the future king to be making?”

  “Sod off!”

  Ele snickered.

  “Seriously though, any prospects I need to vet?”

  “I’m the Spinster Ice Princess. Even the promise of vast riches and royal babies can’t entice men to notice me. Don’t you read the tabloids?”

  “You know I don’t.”

  “Maybe. But I know Charlotte gets a packet every morning and highlights it for you to read over your coffee.”

  Jamie grinned but refused to comment.

  “What about you though? Is there a beautiful aristocrat who has struck your fancy?”

  In the roulette wheel of genetics, Jamie, Juliana, and Ele had won. They suffered no weak chins, heavy jowls, or hooked noses. If Jamie ever took the time to think about what he might change about himself, maybe he’d wish to be taller. But with his perfectly coiffed mahogany hair against the amber hues of his skin and his ice-blue eyes, most forgot about his height. If one were looking for an imperfection, his lips were too full and wide—a bit feminine, to be fair. Yet his appeal wasn’t wrapped up in the outer trappings. Charismatic and charming, Jamie didn’t have a personality as much as an aura. Ele knew there was a depth to him, some part of himself he hid away and only allowed very few people to glimpse. In his introspective moments, he left the door ajar.

  “Do you think there is any opportunity for real, genuine”—he glanced at her—“guess that means the same thing”—his self-deprecating smile was in place—“connection?”

  Goose bumps trailed down Ele’s arms, the subject matter so telling. She attempted to shake the melancholy of the moment. Because when it was quiet and the duties were done, she thought of it. Her brain didn’t function like Jamie’s; he was more intuitive than she. The subject matter though was the one thing she couldn’t analyze with her scientific method.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Is that what you want?” She knew everyone was supposed to want a connection with another person, but could a future king afford it? Could he share himself in that way?

  Could I? With all of my rules and rituals and rigidity, is there someone who could fit themselves into the tight confines of our lives?

  “Maybe it’s me. I’ve met countless women but never gotten that feeling. The one poets adorn with words. I can quote Shakespeare here.” His sad smile nearly broke Ele’s heart.

  Uncomfortable, Ele shifted in her seat. “I don’t know.”

  “Me either. You know I have never begrudged our lives. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” When Ele glared at him, he amended, “Of course, that. But I mean, I have never felt sorry for myself and this life we were born into. It’s probably blasphemous or treasonous to say this, but”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“I look forward to the day I will ascend the throne.” He smiled wickedly. “I just don’t want to do it alone.”

  “Should I be offended?” Ele teased.

  “No. You always have my back. And Jules too. But don’t you ever wonder if there’s something we’re missing out on?”

  She did. “We have whatever we need and things we didn’t even know we wanted. And all we have to give is our time and effort. We get to travel the world, although we don’t really get to experience mu
ch of it, do we? Is it arrogant and selfish to think we deserve something else, something so indefinable as love?”

  Jamie graced her with what she considered their smile—the slight tilt of the right side of the mouth, the crinkle of twinkling eyes. It warmed her. But not all the way through, not to the suddenly unearthed empty corner of her heart. Not even he could fill that spot.

  “I get it. There has to be more, right?”

  2

  31 March

  St. Peter’s Training Ground

  Tristan Davenport was on top of the world.

  He crested the hill in his BMW, the majesty of St. Peter’s Training Ground spread out before him. He wanted to race toward the complex, squeal into the parking lot, and let the sound of the rubber scraping the road announce his arrival. Although it was a solitary entry, in his head, there were trumpets blaring, banners waving, and crowds screaming his name.

  T-Dav! T-Dav! T-Dav!

  Against every instinct he possessed, he rolled almost silently into the parking space. The urge to immortalize the moment was too much for him to resist. He reached over, grabbed his phone, and contorted his body, so the pitch could provide the perfect backdrop. Taking a quick picture, he posted it.

  T-Dav has arrived. Ring the bells.

  The notifications sounded, each ding an angel singing. Smiling wide, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked to the dressing room. Intentionally, he arrived early, so he could enjoy the pristine view, the smell of the dew on the grass, and an unhurried stroll through the building. He paused on the threshold, taking a moment to appreciate the realization of his lifelong dream. With his feet spread, he crossed his arms, turned his head to the left, and nodded. Anyone familiar with T-Dav knew his trademark pose. Nothing flashy because his flash came in front of the goal, his celebration more of an acknowledgment. He untangled his left hand and snapped another selfie.

  Dream realized!

  “How many selfies today?” Rowan asked from behind him.

  Tristan smiled over his shoulder, not even a little embarrassed. “What are you doing here so early?”