I turned my phone to silent, and slipped out of the apartment before I could be surrounded by photographers.

I made a conscious effort to avoid the news, but that was easier said than done. Going online in any way, shape, or form, was basically off the table, and I had to put headphones in to avoid hearing conversations about me.

No one recognized me wearing a large pair of aviators and keeping my head down, but that wouldn’t last long. I didn’t have a Facebook page, but I had plenty of friends who did. Their photos would soon start popping up, showing me drunk, and with women draped over me.

Then the the sex stories would start. I could just picture the headlines in the tabloids now.

MY NIGHT WITH A PRINCE.

ROYALLY SCREWED.

I SUCKED THE CROWN JEWELS.

I probably deserved the trashy headlines. It was my fault for sleeping with trashy women.

My phone had already collected hundreds of messages, but none of them were from Sophia, so I ignored them. She’d had a few hours to think about it. How long would she need? Most women would jump at the chance to marry a prince, but apparently Sophia was not ‘most women.’ I knew that already, of course. Sophia was special. Any man would be lucky to have her—even a prince would have to work to earn her affection.

There were other women who would marry me, but I had my heart set on Sophia now. She was the perfect choice.

And she was beautiful. Truly stunning. Was that a good thing? It would certainly make it a lot harder to keep my hands off her for six months, but at least I wouldn’t have to fake my desire for her in public. It was definitely better than being a prince and getting some crappy arranged marriage.

I had to avoid that at all costs. If I accepted a position as heir to the throne, my life would be over. I’d have no freedom. It would be all hand-waving, and ribbon-cutting, and whatever other bullshit the royal family did these days.

If I got married and claimed my inheritance, I could avoid all that. Sophia wasn’t the only option, but she was the only one I wanted.

I didn’t dare call Tabitha in case those bastards at the tabloids were still doing the wiretapping thing, but I did want to see her. As far as I knew, video conferencing was still a fairly secure bet, especially going through a VPN. It was a risk, but it was a risk I had to take. I needed to see Tabitha and Liam. They were the whole reason I was doing this, after all.

I walked to a park where I knew I could get the rare combination of privacy and enough cell phone reception to make a video call. I kept my head down the entire way in case someone recognized me. Did people actually recognize famous faces on the street? I never did, but then I was shit with faces. I hadn’t even recognized that actress until we’d finished the deed, and she’d started talking about her Oscar win. I was fairly certain I could bump into Lady Gaga wearing a dress made of meat and I wouldn’t recognize her.

I tried calling, but no answer. Of course there was no answer—she was eight hours behind and it was the middle of the night there. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

Still no message from Sophia. Once again, I thought about asking someone else to help me out, but I couldn’t imagine it not being Sophia. I wanted to parade her around as my fiancée, and show her off to my friends. I wanted to go on television and tell the world that I was renouncing my claim to the throne because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Sophia.

Alright, so I’d look like a bit of a tit when we split up six months later, but we’d have fun in the meantime.

My proposal this morning hadn’t exactly been the stuff of fairy tales, even if marrying a prince was.

I just had to convince Sophia that this engagement and marriage was the right thing for both of us. She probably needed the money almost as much as I did. Students who worked part-time in coffee shops weren’t usually sleeping on mattresses stuffed with £50 notes after all. Not to mention, education in America was expensive, from what I’d heard. She’d have a fuck-tonne of debt that I could clear for her.

And she’d mentioned a visa. Sophia wanted to stay in the country after her studies. If she married me, getting a visa would be a formality. It was a win-win. I just needed to show her that.

“Oh my God, is that him?”

“Where do I know him from?”

“He sure looks like that prince.”

My disguise didn’t pass muster close up in a crowded jewelry store. Within seconds, the gossip started, and phones were held in front of faces to record the moment for posterity.

The manager of the story noticed the commotion—and the reason for it—and quickly came over to help.

“Close the store,” I demanded.

Might as well make the most of this ‘being a prince’ thing.

“Yes, sir,” the man said, before immediately ushering customers out of the store, and then locking the door. “It’s an absolute honor—”

“—to have me in the store. Yes, I’m sure it is. I’m here to buy a ring.”

“What type of ring?”

“An engagement ring.”

I thought it was only in cartoons when pound signs appeared in people’s eyes, but apparently not. At least I’d made one person happy today.

“Absolutely, sir. I mean, Your Highness.”

I cringed, and suppressed the urge to vomit. That’s why I had to do this. I couldn’t handle spending the rest of my life being referred to as “Your Highness.”

“ ‘Sir’ will do,” I replied. “Now, I’m not sure about all the technical terms, but I want something big and shiny. Something I can’t look directly at for too long without going blind.”

“Yes, sir. Right this way.”

The man disappeared into the back room and came out with a rock the size of Gibraltar.

“Oh yes, that will do nicely.”