Page 105 of American Royalty

Chapter Eighteen

“I’m god of all I survey / You don’t own me / Knocking bitches out the way / LikeShowgirls,Nomi...”

—Duchess, “Don’t Try This”

Duchess, who are you wearing?”

“Duchess, would you collab with Samantha Banks?”

“Duchess. Duchess! Over here!”

Dani had been invited to some lavish and extravagant events. The Met Gala, theVanity Fairparty after the Oscars, and Diddy’s White Party in the Hamptons, just to name a few. But nothing could’ve prepared her for the spectacle she was experiencing.

The blinding flashes from cameras, the cacophony of voices calling her name—it was a bit overwhelming and it took her back to her first days walking the red carpet. She thought she’d never get used to it, but a publicist had taught her to not look frazzled, inhale a calming breath, and, taking her time, start at the beginning of the row of cameras and slowly move her eyes along to the end. Doing so would give each person enough time to get several angles, since their cameras could take multiple shots in a second. It had required practice, but now she was used to it.

Stand tall. Chin up, shoulders back. Show off the gorgeous gold and sequined dress.

Hair toss or hand on hip.

Microsquint for soft eyes and scan the crowd of photographers, looking just above them.

Move on.

And then she was inside.

The East Gallery was unlike any gallery she’d ever seen in her life. It was a large hall with an alcove at one end. In the middle of the room, against the left wall, was a fireplace, carved in white marble. Above it hung a full-length portrait of someone royal flanked by several others. Crimson silk covered the walls, a striking contrast to the ivory and gold carved ceiling, from which large gold chandeliers hung. Waiters circulated carrying glasses of champagne.

“Duchess!”

Several heads in the room turned at the shouted greeting, but because of the man moving toward her, Dani knew that she was the one who’d been addressed.

Lester Stone reached her and grabbed her shoulders, going in for the two-cheek greeting. “You look gorgeous.”

Dani ran her hand down the iridescent sequins covering her skirt and floor-sweeping train. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were invited. Thank God. I was afraid I was going to be surrounded by old fuddy-duddies.”

Lester Stone was a legendary rock star, and though he was pushing seventy, he would never include himself in that category. He was one of the bestselling music artists of all time, having sold over 250 million records worldwide. While she didn’t geek out over his band’s music like most of the world did, she recognized his talent.

That recognition didn’t entitle him entrée into her pants, though he hit on her every time he saw her. She’d googled pictures of him from when he was younger and she could definitely see the appeal. But between the years of hard partying and the plastic surgery to counteract them, he was this startling mix of leathery under-the-scalpel-a-few-too-many-times alertness that was initially off-putting. It was clear he thought he still looked thirty-five. Or he coasted on his celebrity. Either way, it wasn’t going to happen. And after a couple of meetings, she’d made that clear.

But despite that, she liked him, so she wasn’t offended when his hug lasted a little longer than normal and his hand somehow grazed her ass.

“I was honored to be invited,” she said.

“It shows the royal family has some good taste that I hadn’t thought they possessed. Come on, we’re all over here.”

She placed her hand on his proffered arm and followed him, although she looked around for Jameson as she went. He was nowhere to be seen.

Her pussy still tingled from his marathon eating-out session that afternoon, after which he’d left to get ready at the palace and carry out tasks with the queen and the royal family. This had all started with them both intending to scratch an itch or as a vacation fling. But Jameson was more than she’d expected. They were so different, she never would’ve thought they would have anything in common, let alone enough to sustain a relationship. But she was now at the point where she was willing to give it a try. She just knew that the thought of saying good-bye to him at the end of this week was entirely too painful. Almost unfathomable.

When they reached the small group on the other side of the room, Dani had to resist pinching herself.

Do you realize where you are? The small girl from Hampton, Virginia, is at Buckingham Palace surrounded by musical—and actual!—royalty.

The people standing before her made up the Who’s Who of music. They’d all been inducted into their music’s Hall of Fame, had numerous number one albums, and had performed sold-out shows all over the world.

And little Dani Nelson.