She shrugged. "It's pretty obvious."
"My brother and sisters grew up together here in Amsterdam and The Hague, so they speak English with a Dutch accent. I grew up at Le Rosey boarding school in Switzerland, where I learned English from a British tutor."
She had wondered how that had worked, how Casimir had met Arthur and Maxence at the Swiss boarding school, but he was Dutch. "I can't believe your parents sent you away."
"It was for the best. Maxence and I had already been friends since before the car accident. Once I got to Le Rosey, he and Arthur became my brothers."
"I could never send my children to boarding school."
"The press was hounding me. My parents had to get me away from them, and some of the family situation was not ideal."
Whoa. That was interesting. He had never mentioned anything about a family situation before. "I can't imagine boarding school was better than living at home."
"It was a great deal better. Within two weeks, I stopped flinching every time a bush rustled. Within a few months, I was much happier. It was definitely the best decision to get me out of the Netherlands."
She glanced up at him, but he was still staring straight ahead.
"Ana and I are close because we were children together before I was sent away when I was seven. I barely know Margriet. She was a toddler when I left."
"And Willem?"
His mouth was set in a grim line. "He's two years younger than I am. We were never close."
The door rattled as someone knocked on it.
"That was quick," Casimir muttered. More loudly, "Come in!"
On the other side of the living room, the door opened, and a man entered.
The new guy was tall, Rox could tell by the fact that he was still an imposing presence even when walking through the oversized door, and he had bright blond hair that glistened in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Even from across the room, he looked like Casimir.
A lot like him.
Rox glanced up at Casimir, who stood rock-still by her side. He didn't so much as blink.
The man called from across the room, "Casimir!"
His voice sounded like Casimir's.
Beside her, Casimir straightened, and his stony expression turned into the one that she knew was his resting bitch face modified with a formal smile.
That was odd. Casimir only used that face during negotiations with very unpleasant opposing counsel. One time, the other lawyer had been chewing tobacco and spitting the chew juice into a paper cup that soaked through pretty quickly. Brown liquid had dribbled down the side of the cup, and a ring of sour spit had bubbled up on the table, which had seeped onto the corner of the contract that they were debating. The lawyer had handed Casimir the chew-stained contract to look at a particular clause, and Casimir had worn that tight, bland smile the whole time he was holding the soggy paper.
As the other man came closer, Rox could see that he really did look a lot like Casimir-meaning that he was drop-dead gorgeous, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw that would turn every woman's head in a room to look at him-just like him, except for the new guy's blond hair and the fact that his eyes were a pale shade of blue.
They looked as alike as the best plastic surgeons in the world could have made them.
The smile on the other guy's face was wide and genuine, and he held his hand extended as he walked across the room. "Casimir! When did you get in? I didn't even know that you were coming home."
"It was an unplanned trip," Casimir said, shaking his hand. "May I present Roxanne Neil, my very dear friend with whom I have worked at the law office in California for three years now. Rox, this is my brother Willem."
Rox shook his hand. It was an ordinary, firm handshake. His palm was warm and dry, and he smiled a gorgeous smile at her. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Neil."
"Call me Rox," she said. "Pleased to meet you."
It was like Casimir had a blonder twin.
Bad thoughts about Casimir and his almost-twin brother in her bed rose in her mind. If anything in the world was sexier than Casimir, it was two Casimirs.
Casimiruses.
Casimiri.
Something like that.
Willem turned back to talk to Casimir. "Good Lord, what did you do to your face now?"
He shrugged, his form-fitting suit moving with his body. "Bit of a car accident. Slight problem with a fire."
"You should have that looked at. You'll have the press crawling on us all over again." He turned to Rox, a warm and amused smile on his face. "They would not leave us alone when he was a child. When he was out with us, the press swarmed all of us. You couldn't even walk without one of them tripping you."
"That must've been terrible for you," Rox said, trying not to let one eyebrow rise.
Casimir said, "I was planning to have it looked at."
"Sooner rather than later, I suppose. I can't believe that Ana is scheduling a reception for you while you look like that. You'll wear a bandage or a mask of some sort, of course."
Oh, that was going too far.
Rox stood a little straighter. "I like it."
They both looked down at her, two tall, glorious man-gods staring down from the heavens.
She said, "I think he looks manly. It's just a little scratch, and it gives his face character. It makes him look different than all the other pretty boys out there. I have problems telling those guys apart."
A hint of a smile curved Casimir's mouth, but Willem frowned. "Of course he shouldn't leave it like that. He needs to get it fixed."
"Nope." She looked right into Casimir's brilliant green eyes. "I think he looks better. I think it's sexy."
Casimir watched her, that small, real smile still playing around his mouth.
Willem's frown deepened. "He can't look like that when he's representing the Kingdom of the Netherlands at official functions."
Rox grinned. "Sure, he can. He has stories to tell about it. People will relate to him better. And I wouldn't have him change a thing."
Casimir's eyes softened. His hand by his side twitched as if he had almost reached to take her hand but couldn't.
Willem said, "I think it's disgraceful. Casimir, it's revolting. How will you ever marry someone of importance looking like that? What would the people say if, God forbid, anything were to happen to Ana and her children and you took the throne? There would be riots in the streets if Prince Monster were the king."
Rox was already swinging her fist at his stomach when Casimir caught her arm. "You asshole!"
"Now, Rox," Casimir said, "violence never solved anything." He sounded far too calm.
Willem watched her, his arms crossed.
She shook her arm, trying to make Casimir let her go. "I will punch that slimeball right in the kisser."
"She's got a temper," Casimir told his brother. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion some other time."
"Oh, I'm riled up all the way past angry-Southern-girl level and about to go biblical on him!"
Casimir laughed. "Run, Willem."
Willem rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at her plebeian outburst. "I'll see you later, Casimir."
That last word was barbed, expressing his disdain for the commoner.
The commoner who was going to tear his face off. "You come back here and I'll beat your fancy ass! Someone should have whupped you more often to learn you some manners!"
Willem's last look at Casimir spoke volumes of disapproval, and he strolled out the door.
She snarled, "You let me go and I will make sure that he's never that impolite to anyone again!"
Casimir pulled her into his arms and held her, his cheek pressed against her hair. "You really can't threaten to ‘whup' members of the royal family. The security staff will look askance."
"Seriously, you're not going to have a temper tantrum over that?"
"Not here."
"I-really?"
"Never."
"If we were in the office and someone spoke to you like that, you would have a proper rant," she made fun of his British accent there, "and chew his butt a new one."
He stroked her back. "Besides, I don't need to. As always, you've taken care of the situation for me. I'll just sign off on it."
"You're weird here. I can hardly wait to get you back to the States."
He bent, and Rox felt him press his cheek to her hair. "Me, too."
She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed. "I will whup his ass. What a jackass."
As she had often heard growing up in the South, evil wears a beautiful face.
PRINCESS ANASTASIA THE NEFARIOUS