I didn’t want to sneak out of the room this morning like I had done something wrong, or as if last night hadn’t been the most incredible night of my life. But without a phone, I was running the risk of losing my job if I didn’t check in with the newsroom or at least Jacques.

As soon as I ran into Jacques in the lobby I realized I should have stayed in bed. I should have let Brion keep his arms around me and inhaled his dizzying masculine scent. I was an idiot for ever leaving.

If I had stayed, I never would have found out about the mayor’s breakfast. If I had stayed I never would have been facing the biggest lie I’d ever told. If I had stayed I wouldn’t be seeing confusion in the eyes of a man who had made me come so many times I had fallen hard and fast.

I needed to run across the room and explain to him why I was wearing a press badge. I needed to tell him my full name was Sabrina. I never went by Bri. I had to do something, but as soon as I took a step around the table, one of the royal guards I saw this morning stepped in front of me.

“I need to speak to the duke,” I explained.

He was solid and immovable. “Members of the press will have five minutes to ask questions,” he responded. “You may speak in a public setting regarding this morning’s breakfast with the mayor of Sangreaux.”

“Don’t you remember me?” I whispered. I didn’t want anyone else to hear, especially Jacques. “This morning at the hotel? You must know who I am.”

He stared straight ahead. “Press will have five minutes. No more.”

He turned and headed back for the duke.

I sank into my chair. Faced with bowls of fruit and pastries.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” Jacques prodded.

But my stomach rolled. I couldn’t catch Brion’s eye again. He refused to look in my direction. He was angry and he had every right to be. I was the enemy.

I could tell from the look in his eyes he was angry. He was disappointed. I had hurt him. Betrayed him.

“Eat, Sabrina,” Jacques shoved a croissant in his mouth.

I shook my head. “I’m not really hungry.”

Another reporter sat on the other side. She began talking about the scoop we had on the duke’s high-speed security evasion. It was the only thing anyone cared about. I had become a celebrity among my peers.

I bit back the tears.

I threw my napkin on the table.

“Where are you going?” Jacques called. “There’s more free food on the way. You don’t want to miss what the duke says.”

I wiped the tears as I ran past the banquet table and down the corridor. I pushed open a door that opened into a courtyard. I didn’t know where I was, only that I had to get out of that room. I was being suffocated by the angry glares. By the reminders of what I had done.

There was a fountain in the center of the walkway. I sat on a bench nearby and watched the water trickle into the basin as the tears fell from my eyelashes.

I was an idiot. There were so many ways last night could have played out. And I went along with all the ones that avoided the truth. I had fallen under his spell, believing that for one night it would be ok to live in a world of lies. Who was I? What was I thinking? I buried my face in my palms, letting the soft sobs shake my shoulders.

“Did you think you could hide out here?”

I jumped when I heard the chill in his voice. I spun around.

“Brion? Oh my God.”

He walked toward me. The gravel crunched under his expensive shoes as he approached.

“I discovered Bri is actually Sabrina Keyes, the reporter who wrote an explosively inaccurate story about me.” He stood in front of my bench.

“You didn’t want my real name.” It was the best and worst comeback I had.

“You lied to me.” It was almost a snarl. I hated the hurt in his eyes.

I rose from my seat. The water splashed behind him.

“You said it was a game. You didn’t want my real name.”

His eyes narrowed. “You knew damn well who I was from the moment we met in the bar.” I heard the anger in his voice. The betrayal was palpable.

“I did,” I admitted. “It wasn’t an accident I was in the bar. I was there to try to meet you. I wanted to talk to you.” I winced, knowing everything I said sounded stupid and like a terrible excuse. “Not like that. Not like we did.” I was screwing it up more. “I mean to interview you. I wanted to interview you. Nothing more. Honestly and openly. I was hoping you would grant me an interview.”

He pressed his lips together. Lips that only hours ago I had kissed until mine were raw. How did we go from being tangled in my sheets to this courtyard?

“Brion, please understand I had no intention of anything other than being completely professional. My press badge was in my bag the entire time.”

“What kind of profession is it you’re in, again?” he mocked. “I didn’t know I had taken a spy to bed.”

My eyes flared at the condescending tone.

I realized his security had walked inside the private courtyard. He waved the agents away. They scurried to just inside the door. I didn’t think they would leave him completely alone with me.

“I’m not a spy. I’m a reporter.”

“You don’t know what kind of trouble you’ve caused me.” His words were clipped.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know you must think I used you. It looks terrible. But I swear the story went out before we met. I’m not the one who wrote the story. It looks like I wrote the story but my editor decided to use my byline instead of my trying to explain it was the photographer who wrote it. I swear. I’m not a paparazzi member. I’m an actual journalist. I write in-depth features and news. Not royal dribble.” Shit. I covered my mouth. “That’s not what I meant. Stories about you and your family aren’t dribble. Some are, but—” I had to stop.

I lowered my eyes. There was no way to dig myself out of this hole.

“I-I didn’t write it. Please believe me.”

His finger hooked under my chin, drawing it upward.

“Sabrina.” He exhaled a heavy breath.

I waited, hoping I had said something that he believed. Something that made him realize I wasn’t the kind of woman he had mistaken me for.

“Something happened between us last night. Something we should discuss.”

I blinked back the remaining tears. He wiped the pad of his thumb against my cheek, brushing them into my skin.

“I don’t understand.”

“Sit,” he ordered. “I think you need to know my secret.”