Page 23 of Roaming Holiday

“Why don’t we ask actual Maldanians?” I suggest before beckoning them.

“Is Beck even from here? He has an American accent.”

“He was born here; his mom is American.” I don’t sugarcoat the question by the time they reach us. “Are Maldanians racist?”

Mason recoils in surprise; Beck doesn’t react. The two of them exchange glances.

“There are certainly some of us who are,” Mason admits.

“Well, of course,” Maia agrees, “but as a whole?”

“Compared to other EU countries, no,” Beck says. “But both of us are white. We cannot speak for Black Maldanians.”

I don’t give him too much credit for what should be a basic point of view, but I’ll be damned if I don’t find him hotter for it. Common sense is attractive, and that can be hard to come by in men.

13

NINA

Giddiness runs up my core as we pull through the palace’s iron gates for lunch. It sits huge among pristine and colorful landscaping. My family lived here. My mom.

Maia and I are so caught up in a conversation about the charity we could do as princesses that I forget to change into the heels I brought.

“Damn. Go on without me while I change my shoes.”

“I’ll go use the bathroom and then come back for you,” Maia says, sliding out of the town car and leaving with Mason in tow.

Beck opens my door and waits as I put on my cream-colored heels and scoot to the edge. Before I can place a foot outside, his open hand waits in front of me. I pause at the sight, then sneak a quick glance at him. His entire effect is aloof, so I match it. I place my hand in his and hate the way his fingers clamp around mine automatically.

He’s a gentleman helping me out of the car, and I can only imagine what it would feel like to have his hand elsewhere on my body. I inwardly groan and push the thought back as far as possible. No way in hell will I make a move on my bodyguard. The rejection would make my life painfully awkward.

I step out of the car into a private, circular driveway on a different side of the palace. This is much different than the public section. I meet Maia at the garden entrance, and when we reach a fork in the path, I notice Beck walking the other way.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t need to remain with you on palace grounds, madam.”

“Fine… Hey—Beck.” I wait until he looks back. “Don’t call me madam.”

He gives a curt nod, which I find oddly amusing. I have yet to see a handsome man as stoic as him. Every beautiful man I’ve come across knows they’re hot and uses it as an excuse to be a dick one way or another.

I follow Maia down the path until it reveals a yard of flowers, a daybed, a pool, and a table under the shade of a huge tree. Security guards dot the area, and I spot the multiple cameras in trees and even on a few statues. The walkway leads to the table, saving me from walking on grass with heels.

“Girls! I’m so pleased you could join us,” Aunt Beverly exclaims, extending her hands for us to grab. Maia takes one and I take the other.

“Of course,” my sister says.

Even though I feel slightly out of place, I feign gratitude and joy. “Thank you for inviting us.”

My aunt beckons us forward. “Come, meet your cousins, plus Roman.”

Three people step up like little soldiers, but one moves closer. He’s shorter than me with dirty blond hair that ought to be combed. “I’m still a plus? Mrs. Elias, you know you love me like a son.”

She smiles. “Roman is my son’s best friend, but for all intents and purposes, he’s part of the family.”

“I’m Vanessa,” a girl says. She has tanned, freckled skin. Her light brown hair is bobbed, and she blinks pieces of her bangs away from her eyes.

“Jason—Jace for short,” the remaining boy says.

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