Royally Lost Page 3

  She sidled up to her brother and said, “You have to get me out of that palace tour. If I have to hear any more flippin’ history, I’m going to turn into a zombie. Do you think Dad will believe me if I say I’m sick and need to go back to the boat?”

  “Chill. You don’t want to be cooped up on the boat all day. We’re in Vienna, the home of apple strudel, Wiener schnitzel, and hot women. If I can play this right, we’ll be free for the afternoon and can skip the concert tonight, too.”

  “Oh crap, I forgot about the concert.” Two hours of sleep-inducing classical music. No thank you.

  “Come on. I’ve got this.”

  They approached their dad and his new friends. Dylan waited for a break in the conversation.

  “Hey, Dad, I know there’s that palace tour this afternoon, but Becca and I were really interested in the Habsburgs and wanted to explore more here in the city.”

  “Really?” Her dad glanced at Becca, who nodded like a bobble head, hoping he’d buy Dylan’s story.

  “Plus, there’s so much history right here. We thought it would be fun to tour the Imperial Apartments of the Hofburg.” Dylan lied like a pro.

  “Well, I think it’s great that the two of you want to spend more time together,” their dad said.

  “See, vacation is the perfect thing to bring families closer,” Vicky said with a satisfied smile, as if her grand plan to make them a functioning family had actually worked.

  “All right then, we’ll see you at dinner,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Dylan said, and Becca echoed him.

  Dad and Vicky headed off with their new best friends. Dylan waited until they were out of earshot. “Piece of cake. Now I think I’ll go grab myself one of those strong coffees served in a tiny cup.”

  “But you told Dad we were going to take that tour. Shouldn’t we do that first?”

  “We don’t need to actually take the tour.”

  Becca chewed at the side of her lip. “But what if he asks? I don’t think I could look Dad in the eye and lie.”

  “I thought the point of this was to avoid taking another tour. If you’re that worried about it, you could go buy tickets for the tour as proof. He won’t ask for details.”

  “Okay. Which way is it?” Becca looked around at all the streets.

  “Take that street there.” Dylan pointed down one of the many streets that led off the square. “The entrance was about three blocks down on the left. You can’t miss it. Do you have your cell in case you get lost?”

  “I’m fine. I have a map.” She waved it at him. “I saw a McDonald’s back that way. I’m going to grab something to eat, too,” she said, indicating another side street.

  “Okay. I’ll catch ya later.” He beelined for a café where pretty girls sipped fancy coffees.

  Becca was glad to be off on her own while Dylan plied his charms on unsuspecting girls.

  People milled about the square, their cameras dangling in one hand, and locals walked with cells phones planted to their ears. Everyone seemed to buzz with the excitement of a bright summer day. Becca didn’t share their enthusiasm.

  As she stood alone among the bustling crowd, all she wanted was something familiar, like an icy cold, American Diet Pepsi, french fries, and music that wasn’t three hundred years old. She checked out the streets jutting off the square and chose the street where she saw the McDonald’s.

  After a few minutes Becca knew she’d picked the wrong street. She’d been positive this was where she’d spotted the miniature-sized golden arches. Not ready to give up, she walked a couple of blocks in each direction until she became hopelessly lost in a maze of narrow cobblestone streets peppered with gift shops, restaurants, and the occasional business office.

  Standing on a corner, she pulled out her city map. If she could locate St. Stephen’s church, where she’d started from, and then the Hofburg Palace, she should be able to figure out how to get from one to the other. But she had one major problem. She didn’t even know where she was standing.

  She considered asking for directions, but everyone looked either totally unapproachable, like the businessmen speaking rapidly in a foreign tongue, or totally clueless, like the four middle-aged women wearing fanny packs and visors.

  Chewing on her lip, she checked the map’s jigsaw puzzle of streets, deciding to focus on the large area on the map that read Hofburg Palace. She’d walked by that area on the tour. It covered several blocks, so it should be easy to find again. Except that she’d taken about twenty-seven turns since then. She squinted at the confusing labyrinth, wishing for an internal GPS. She refused to call Dylan and ask him for help. He’d probably be mad he had to come find her again. She would figure this out.

  “Excuse me, do you need some assistance?”

  Becca looked up, startled. A familiar face with a traffic-stopping smile and bright blue eyes gazed at her. Her breath caught.

  4

  This was the guy she’d seen in the store yesterday and later on his motorcycle.

  She offered him a stunned smile. He wore a dark gray T-shirt with foreign words written on the front, a couple days’ beard growth, and a backpack. His sunglasses were hooked over the neck of his T-shirt.

  This was definitely the same guy she saw yesterday, but that was in Budapest. Now they were in Vienna. Austria.

  “Oh, ah.” She smiled politely as if not totally flustered by his presence. “I’m just trying to find the Hofburg Palace.” She didn’t want to admit that until he showed up, all she really wanted was to find some french fries, close her eyes, and fantasize she was back home. Instead, she offered him the map.

  The edge of his mouth curled and her stomach turned a little flip. “It’s okay. I know where it is. It’s that way.” He pointed in the direction behind Becca.

  She followed his gaze. “No,” she said, sure he was mistaken. “Look.” She pointed at the map. “St. Stephen’s church, where I started from, is here. I came from this direction, so the palace has to be that way.” She indicated the opposite direction.

  Laughter lit his eyes. “No. I’m sorry, but it’s not.” He placed a long finger where the church was labeled on the map. “Here’s the St. Stephen’s Cathedral, and the Hofburg is here.” He slid his finger to the palace. “And we are standing right here.” He indicated an area several blocks away from the two historic landmarks.

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out how she ended up so far off track.

  “Look here.” He lowered his head as he examined the map. “We’re at the corner of Teinfaltstrasse and Schreyvogelgasse.”

  She enjoyed the close-up view of him. The way his hair lay at the nape of his neck, and he smelled good. All guy.

  “See?” He raised his gorgeous eyes to hers and she wanted to dive in.

  “Oh,” she answered. She couldn’t give a flip about the names of the streets or the map.

  He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes warm and inviting. He checked his watch. “Would you like me to take you there?”

  Hell, yes!

  “Sure. That is, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to keep you from anything.” Shivers of excitement ran up her arms.

  He laughed. “Not at all. My schedule is wide open. Oh, and by the way, I’m Nikolai.”

  Becca took his outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Becca.” His grip was firm, yet gentle. She noticed the softness of his skin and the light tan of summer on the back of his hand.

  “Hi, Becca. Nice to meet you.” He released her hand and gestured in the direction of the palace.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty sure I bumped into you yesterday,” she said.

  “In Budapest.” He smiled.

  “Yes! I thought you were the same person.”

  “The palace is this way. It won’t take but a few minutes to get there.” He indicated the direction and they began walking.

  “So yesterday you were in Budapest and now you’re in Vienna, same as me. You’re not following me, are you?�
�� she asked, thinking of the movie where the young girl is taken.

  Considering the number of tour buses and the riverboat she’d been on since yesterday, it didn’t seem possible he was a stalker. Plus, everything about him oozed nice guy. Not that she hadn’t been wrong about guys before.

  “No. I’m not following you.” Nikolai laughed. But he might like to. She seemed nice and was certainly beautiful.

  He was used to being stalked by the press, and the last two days without them had been so relaxing. No scheduled appearances, no advisors, and no cameras.

  “So, what are you doing here in Vienna?” she asked.

  Nikolai slid his hands into his pockets as they walked; there was suddenly a lightness in his step. “I’m on sort of a holiday. I’m traveling up the Danube.”

  “Sort of a holiday? What does that mean?”

  “Well,” he sighed, trying to decide how to explain it without actually telling her. “Long story short, I took off without my parents’ permission.”

  “Really? I wish I had the guts to do that.”

  “I don’t recommend it. There’ll be hell to pay when they catch up with me.”

  “Your parents don’t know where you are?” Becca brushed a lock of silky hair behind her ear, revealing her sun-kissed cheek.

  “Not yet. I figure they’re giving me a couple days of freedom before they try to track me down and order me home, but that’s not going to happen.” He glanced at the sidewalks, crowded with tourists. At least he hoped that was the case and that they hadn’t already sent a security detail after him.

  Becca laughed. “No? Why is that?”

  “Because I’m living off the grid, you know, like Jason Bourne.”

  “Are you telling me you’re an international spy or, oh no, an assassin?” She feigned a shocked expression.

  “Hardly. I’m just another derelict kid avoiding family responsibilities and disappointing my parents.”

  He wondered what she’d think if he confessed he was the Prince of Mondovia and had run away like a spoiled child.

  “That’s a drag. I take it they’re pretty demanding.”

  He nodded, the weight of his birthright pressing on his conscience. “You have no idea.”

  “Where is home?”

  Nikolai considered lying, but surprised himself when he didn’t. Something about Becca made him relax, not that she’d put two and two together. He couldn’t put his finger on why he trusted Becca, but Americans didn’t really pay attention to European royalty unless it was Prince William or Prince Harry.

  “I’m from Mondovia.”

  “It sounds familiar. . . .”

  “It’s okay, we’re a small country, and not nearly as glamorous as Austria. Most Americans don’t know much about Mondovia. They confuse us with Monaco, Luxembourg, and Montenegro.”

  “How do you know I’m American?”

  “Besides the fact you’re wearing an American Eagle shirt? You sound American.” He also gestured to the telltale audio box hanging around her neck.

  “Oh my God! I forgot I was still wearing this thing.” She whipped the cord over her head, sweeping her thick mane of hair off her shoulder in the process. She stuffed the device in her bag. “Yeah, I guess I scream, ‘American tourist.’ I feel like such an idiot. I mean, I didn’t even want to come on this trip. My dad made me. He said it would be good family bonding, which is such a joke. So far, the bonding has consisted of strained dinner conversation and trying to avoid a retired art history professor on our boat who talks constantly about the history of neoclassical, Rococo, or Baroque styles.”

  “And where are your mom and dad now?”

  “It’s my dad and my stepmom,” she corrected. “Right about now they are probably downing their second glass of chardonnay with lunch. After that they’re going to some summer home or fourth residence of the eighteenth King of ‘I Couldn’t Care Less,’ and then a classical concert designed to put even the most caffeinated history fanatics to sleep.”

  Nikolai laughed. “And they left you to fend for yourself?”

  “No. My brother is around here somewhere. He maneuvered my dad into letting us skip out of their afternoon of torture. I was on my way to the Hofburg Palace to get tickets, just in case my dad checks, which is unlikely. Unless my brother, Dylan, lands another speeding ticket or I fail to make the honor roll, Dad wouldn’t know we’re on the same continent.”

  A tour group approached on the crowded sidewalk. Their guide carried a tall pole with a bright yellow flag at the top so the distracted tourists in her group could spot her from a distance and wouldn’t get lost.

  Nikolai touched Becca’s arm. “Here, let’s step out of the way. These groups are known to take over the streets.” They ducked into a store entryway to avoid the crush. A rack of magazines lined the wall with several stacks of popular newspapers and gossip publications.

  His eye was drawn to a picture of himself across the front page of the German paper, Daily Snoop. Nikolai stared at the image of himself laughing after a polo match last month in Monaco.

  He read the headline. Prince Nikolai of Mondovia Skips Out on State Dinner, with a caption, The palace is tight-lipped on the prince’s mounting list of canceled appearances.

  Crap.

  Becca appeared beside him. “Hey, that guy in the paper looks a lot like you.”

  5

  “What? Oh, you think so?” He really didn’t want to go into detail about his identity. For once in his life couldn’t he be a normal guy?

  “Who is he?” Becca tried to translate the paper.

  Nikolai realized she couldn’t read the German words. “No one important, just a polo player who won the match. Hey, look.” He pointed across the store. “Baseball caps. I need one.” He crossed the shop to the shelf of caps, distracting her from the newspaper. He wouldn’t be flying under the radar for long with his picture plastered on magazine covers.

  Becca selected a dark blue cap with Vienna stitched across the front. She handed it to him, and he placed it on his head and looked at her. “What do you think?”

  She gazed at him, and their eyes met. “It looks good.” Her cheeks blushed and she looked away.

  Nikolai hid his grin as he took the cap to the checkout counter. So she liked him, at least a little. It surprised him how much he enjoyed that fact. “Want anything?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, but he noticed her checking out the candy display. He tossed a bag of M&M’s on the counter, and a couple of candy bars. After paying, he put on the cap and ripped open the bag of candy as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Want some?”

  Becca hesitated, which he found amusing. “What? Afraid to take candy from a stranger?”

  “No,” she laughed. He held her hand and poured candy into her palm.

  “Before we got sidelined, you were talking about your brother.”

  “Oh yes, Dylan. He pretty much does only what he feels like doing. One time my dad set up an interview for an important internship, and Dylan didn’t show. He didn’t cancel it or let my dad know. He just didn’t go. I think the only job he’s ever had was when he was sixteen and wanted to get to know a girl. He got a job at the movie theater where she worked so he could get close to her.”

  Nikolai liked how her eyes lit up when she talked. “Did he end up going out with her?”

  “Of course, for a month, until he got bored and became interested in someone else. He quit the theater job and started hanging out at the pool to get to know a girl named Tess.”

  “Don’t tell me, he faked drowning.”

  “How’d you guess?” She popped a candy into her mouth.

  “I think I’d like your brother.”

  He guided her around a mother who’d stopped her stroller in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “So what’s he doing now?”

  “Hitting on girls.”

  Nikolai didn’t like that her brother left her alone in a big city when she clearly couldn’t find her way around the block.<
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  “Well, I’m glad I saw you. It’s a shame to spend the day in Vienna by yourself.”

  He poured more candy in her palm as they passed under an archway. A gathering of people was peeking into an arena.

  “What’s everyone looking at?” Becca asked.

  “That’s the Spanish Riding School where they house and train the Lipizzan horses. They’re sort of the royalty of horses here in Austria.”

  Becca stepped closer to see the majestic white horses trot through their exercises.

  “They’re beautiful. But why are there royal horses if there isn’t a king anymore?”

  “I don’t know. Tradition, I guess. So much of Europe is anchored in the past.”

  “Does your country, Mon . . .” She fumbled over the word.

  “Mondovia,” he offered.

  “Right, does Mondovia have a king?”

  Nikolai’s chest tightened at the mention of his father. “Yes, it does.”

  “Really? Does he live in a castle?”

  “Sometimes. There are a few palaces around the country, but his main residence is a palace in our capital city, Genoa.”

  They continued walking.

  “Is he a good king or a bad king?”

  “If you’re asking if he chops off people’s heads, no. He doesn’t do anything bad like that.”

  “But you don’t like him,” she stated, popping the last candy in her mouth and wiping her hand on her shorts.

  He startled. “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I can tell from your tone that you’re not a fan.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like the man, because I do. He’s honorable. I guess it’s just the whole system of having a king and royalty in this day and age.”

  This was the oddest conversation he’d ever had, talking about his father as though he didn’t know him.

  “But doesn’t he run the country?”

  “No. We have parliament with elected officials. It’s a lot like England.”

  Becca wrinkled her brow. “So what does the king do?”

  “Exactly!” Nikolai crumpled the candy wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Mostly the king makes appearances. He attends formal dinners, he awards medals, and recognizes achievements.”