The Royal’s Pretend Wife Read Free

her.
    “Well, there's only one way to find out,” she said, and then a horrible thought struck her. “Look, Tonya, it's not…adult stuff, right? Because I'm not going to—”
    Tonya's laugh was bright.
    “Oh sweetie, no, not at all! I promise, I wouldn't do that to you. Okay, listen, here's the deal…”
    Trinity listened with growing apprehension as Tonya explained the job to her. Apparently, she would need to pretend to be the wife of an obscure Greek royal who had somehow gotten roped into a reality television show.
    “But where's his real wife?” she asked.
    “Hasn't got one. That's the problem. He'd like to keep up his dignity, and reading between the lines, I think that everyone wants him to look settled and stable.”
    Trinity frowned. “Okay, it sounds like I'm providing a cover for some guy who's a cross between Quasimodo and Hannibal Lecter. You really think this is a good idea?”
    Tonya's long pause could have meant anything. “I'll be honest, sweetie. I don't know. What I do know is that life's hard out there for actresses, and I'd rather you stay in LA rather than heading back to the Valley. This job is going to last for three weeks, and after that, you'll get paid nicely.”
    “How much?” asked Trinity suspiciously.
    When Tonya relayed the offer to her, her eyes popped wide.
    “Seriously?”
    “Yeah, and you are the first woman I thought of. He's looking for a high society type, and well, sweetie, that's you. I can understand your misgivings. It's not real acting work, but it's going to pay the bills. It shouldn't hurt your career, because it's in reality television and you want to be in movies, and I've heard the guy isn't bad. So, in or out? Unfortunately, there's no time to think about it. If I can't tell him something in the next half hour or so, he's going to move on.”
    Trinity chewed her lip. It absolutely wasn't what she had wanted to do when she came to Hollywood, but with that amount of money, it meant that she could live without working at a diner for a year or more.
    “All right,” she said. “I'm in.”
     
     

Chapter Two
     
     
    The private air strip in Spain was warm and windy, tugging playfully at Apolo's hair even as he scowled at the clear sky. He had had business to conclude in Madrid, and he still wore his tailored black suit, though it was perhaps a little less crisp than it had been when he first walked out this morning.
    I really don't have time for this , he thought dismally.
    The plan that he had come up with was the best they had on short notice. He would meet his loving “wife” in Spain and bring her back to the country estate a few hours outside of Barcelona. Over the weekend, she could be trained up as someone who had known him for at least a year, and who would act the way a wife acted.
    Apolo was grimly prepared for the worst. The actress—he wasn’t sure he’d even bothered to read her name when he’d looked at the file—was American, and when he thought of the American actresses he had known, the impression was not favorable. He was fully expecting to deal with a bubble-headed girl who simpered and clung and who had a hard lesson in front of her regarding what it meant to represent the royalty of Greece. Of course he had seen a picture of her, but he knew full well that headshots said nothing about a person’s personality or attitude, or even what she really looked like. That blond hair might be red now, and her makeup for the photoshoot, let alone the Photoshop work afterward, could be covering a multitude of flaws. God knew if she had any sense of style or decorum at all.
    The small plane appeared, descending quickly. Apolo took a deep breath, ready for a brightly dressed, high-voiced young girl to come bouncing down the stairs that were being pulled up the plane.
    Instead, the woman that appeared at the top of the stairs had more in common with a classic film star than she did with a Hollywood wannabe.
    From what Apolo could see, she was a tall