Prince Ever After. A.C. Arthur

       Copyright

       Chapter 1

      The breeze cut across his face like a million tiny pinpricks. Beneath him the engine purred like a satisfied female as the wheels smoothly took on another sharp turn on a road where there was only one lane’s worth of space.

      He’d traveled this road so many times before and most times at the same rate of speed. His fingers hugged the steering wheel in an easy embrace, his back and body comfortable against the smooth leather seats of the silver-metallic Jaguar XJ220. Night had fallen over the mountains and cliffs of the island an hour ago, and he’d itched to get out of the confines of his everyday dress clothes and the formal dining room of the royal palace. It reminded him of his teenage years. Prince Roland Simon DeSaunters tossed his head back and laughed.

      He’d been such a hellion back then. But eleven years ago didn’t seem that long, surely not long enough for him to mature into the prince that everyone expected him to be. He’d had too long to practice being reckless, adventurous and fearless, to bottle all that spirit and simply sit still as a member of the royal family of Grand Serenity Island. That wasn’t Roland’s speed at all.

      His speed was fast. Fun. Borderline rowdy.

      With that thought, he took another curve, going downhill as he headed into town. The moment he’d been able to escape the clutches of another tension-filled family dinner, Roland had climbed into his car and driven to the small house hidden in the clefts of the mountainside that he adored. It had been his first major purchase the moment he’d been old enough to spend a part of his inherited fortune without adult supervision. The house was a high school graduation gift to himself, although he hadn’t actually been able to live in it until his four years in the Royal Seaside Navy had been completed. His place was located on the southern tip of the island, where construction had not yet reached. Therefore, this part of his homeland was still flanked with dense forestation. Two of the island’s tallest mountains dubbed the Serene Mountains for their location thrust through the greenery.

      Roland loved it here. The scent of the tropical air rejuvenated him. The stretch of the empty road encouraged him. This was where Roland thrived and very few people knew about it. Of course, there were guards here, he was a prince, after all. But he did not keep a formal staff, preferring to do for himself when he was there. That was the reason he drove himself tonight. He had an important appointment to keep and so he pressed harder on the gas and made yet another sharp turn, smiling into the breeze as his car handled perfectly.

      Fifteen minutes later Roland pulled into a dark alley. He parked his car alongside a white stone dwelling. He got out and took the steps two at a time, until he reached a door that was painted a vibrant orange. Windows climbing up the front and back walls of the building had bright white borders and orange window boxes with flowers pouring out of each one.

      A slender woman answered after he knocked on the door once. She stood quietly as Roland stepped inside. The hallway was narrowand he walked slowly, anticipation bubbling in his blood. The tips of his fingers tingled and his mind emptied of anything and everything that could be a distraction.

      That included the attacks on his family that had resulted in the royal palace being on lockdown for the past six months. The palace had even stopped having guests, and any staff member who hadn’t been vetted, questioned and watched on a daily basis was dismissed.

      His father’s wedding would take place in just four weeks. His father’s fiancée was one royal pain in the ass. His older brother, Kris, was married and still worried about a few accounts at their family bank. His sister, Sam, was married and glowing with love—she’d begun turning over the majority of her responsibilities on the island to Landry, his sister-in-law. And, of course, Malayka, the pain-in-the-ass soon-to-be princess.

      Roland pushed all of that out of his mind. He focused instead on red and black, diamonds, hearts, clubs and spades.

      “We thought you might have changed your mind.”

      That was the first comment that greeted Roland after he’d cleared the steps and walked down a short hallway into a brightly lit room. The walls were painted white there, too, and were covered in framed pictures of children, teenagers and older people. All photos had been taken on Grand Serenity, all faces appeared happy and content.

      The round table in the center of the room had six chairs surrounding it, one of them empty.

      “Game time is at nine,” Roland replied and looked at the Harry Winston Ocean Tourbillon watch he wore. “It’s eight fifty-five.”

      “In the nick of time,” a second man spoke as Roland made his way to the empty chair and took a seat.

      The first man who had spoken was Nelson Magloo, a fifty-something-year-old man who favored fedora hats and gold pinkie rings. Last year, Magloo and his twenty-one-year-old wife, Isla, had built a mansion on the eastern side of the island. Magloo was an oil tycoon from Nevada who’d just recently found out he’d inherited stock in the old Chapman oil refinery on the island.

      The second man to speak was Henri Jauvian, a French businessman vacationing on the island in secret with one of his many mistresses.

      Also in attendance were Reece McCallum, famed NASCAR driver; Kip Sallinger, owner of the Moonlight Casino; and Hugo Harrington, one of Roland’s father’s oldest friends. The group had been assembled by invitation only and Roland was honored to join them. He would also be honored to take every dime they each brought to the table.

      “Who’s dealing?” he asked when they all continued to stare at him.

      “That’s right,” Reece remarked with a crooked grin. “Can’t expect the royal prince to deal the cards for us.”

      “I can deal cards just fine,” Roland told him. “Just as I can take your money without a second’s hesitation.”

      “Cocky bastard, ain’t he?” Kip said with a chuckle that made his rotund upper body vibrate.

      “But he can’t play no better than his granddaddy could,” Hugo added and took another puff on his cigar.

      Roland was used to cigar smoke. His father kept a humidor on his desk and two in his private suite. Rafferty DeSaunters loved few things in life, his children and his cigars being among them.

      “Josef couldn’t play worth squat,” Hugo continued after the cards had been dealt.

      Roland held his cards loosely as he sat back in the chair. “And yet, he beat your father and a much younger, healthier and cockier you, on more than one occasion.”

      The others laughed and Hugo frowned. “I won plenty. My pappy, well, he was another story,” Hugo quipped. “Now pony up fools. I’m in for three.”

      Reece whistled. “Three thousand dollars. Hugo, you hit the lottery or somethin’?”

      “No lottery here on the island. Good ole Rafe don’t like gamblin’ too much. I was surprised as the rest of the islanders when he let you come down here and open up that big shiny casino,” Hugo said to Kip.

      Roland remained silent as he continued to contemplate the cards in his hand.

      He didn’t comment on the subject at hand because he knew how his father felt about gambling. Roland’s sitting there at this very moment had a lot to do with Rafe’s misgivings on the subject. The DeSaunters family history, where gambling was concerned, was no secret, no matter how much Rafe wished it were.

      Josef Marquise DeSaunters was not only known for leading the revolt against Marco Vansig and thus taking control of Grand Serenity in the late 1950s, but for his luck with the cards. Before the plan to take back the island had ever entered Josef’s mind, he was a hustler. Or, at least, that’s what Roland liked to think, because a good high-stakes card game was not the only venture that