I only had an hour until my next class, but as far as George was concerned, that was more than enough time to sneak back to my dorm for a “quick shag” as he would probably describe it.

From the intensity on his face, you’d think it had been a month not a day since we’d last had sex. He practically dragged me up to my room as if his life depending on being inside me.

I wasn’t about to complain.

“What’s this about sex pictures?” George yelled the second the door was shut.

Well that quickly put a dampener on proceedings. How did he know? He’d either been through my email or…

“Which one of them told you?”

“Ellie. It’s not her fault. She thought I knew. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

For Stan’s sake, I was glad he was in another country, because George looked about ready to kill someone right now. I knew he’d be mad, but I hadn’t expected this.

“My ex-fiancé has pictures—and short video clips—of me. Naked. And doing… stuff.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“He’s threatening to release them and demanding money.”

I wanted to cry, but I had to stay as calm as possible. One of us needed to or this would all blow out of control.

“Have you responded?” George asked.

“No, I’ve just ignored it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? How exactly is this not a big deal?”

“He doesn’t know about your inheritance, so he’s only expecting money if you become a prince, which you’re not going to do.”

George paced up and down the small dorm room rubbing his head with his hands and groaning loudly. He looked about ready to punch the wall, and knowing how thin they were, he’d likely go right through it.

Why was he so worked up by this? They were pictures of me not him, and if he wasn’t going to become a prince…

“You’re considering it, aren’t you?” I asked. “You want to become a prince?”

“I could make a difference,” he replied. “We could make a difference. Or at least, we could have done. Fucking hell, Sophia, what were you thinking?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what were you doing sharing naked photos of yourself in the first place?”

“He was my fiancé,” I replied defensively. “Why shouldn’t I? Believe it or not, at the time, I hadn’t planned to leave him at the altar and hook up with a fucking prince.”

“This is going to mess everything up. You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Excuse me? What right do you have to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do with my body? It’s not like your moral code is perfect. You married me for an inheritance remember, so save the fucking lecture.”

George clenched his fists, and kept pacing until he finally calmed down.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arm around me and brought me in for the hug I desperately needed. I could hear his heart still beating fast, but at least he was trying to calm down. “I didn’t mean that. Send me the email and let me deal with it.”

“No,” I replied, keeping my head pressed against his chest. “I don’t want you getting involved.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me away from his chest, before looking deep into my eyes. “If you think I’m going to let someone threaten you like that and get away with it, then I guess you don’t know me that well.”

“And if you think I’m going to let you incriminate yourself in all this then I guess you don’t know me that well either.”

“It seems we’re at a standoff, Mrs. Whittemore.”

George smiled, but it was a smile covering layers of anxiety, and wasn’t in the least bit reassuring.

“This might all go away,” I said.

“You know Stan. Do you think he’ll drop it?”

I paused, but then shook my head. “Only if you drop out of the limelight. I don’t think he’ll release them for the sake of it, because they are embarrassing for him as well.”

“How so?”

“He wasn’t quite so well-endowed as you, let’s just leave it at that.”

George grinned, and this time it looked like he meant it. You could always make a man happy by complementing his penis. I should remember that.

“But if I become a prince, he’ll go ahead and leak the photos?”

I nodded. “There’s a simple solution to all this.”

“No,” George said.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Yes I do. You’re going to propose we get divorced now, and then I become a prince without you by my side.”

“The photos won’t mean a thing if I’m not your wife,” I explained.

“And being a prince won’t mean anything unless you’re my princess.”

This time I couldn’t stop myself from crying. George hugged me tightly as my tears fell and were soaked up by his shirt. He was right; I’d messed everything up. Not just for him as a prince, but for us as a royal family.

If I’d never sent those photos…. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t regret it.

“I’m going to sort this mess out,” George whispered in my ear. “I promise.”

“You should leave it alone,” I sobbed.

“I can’t,” he replied. “I’m not letting him do this to you.”

It was impossible to be worried while in George’s arms. He gave off the scent of a man who fixed problems, and I knew he’d fix this one as well.

I just worried how he would fix it.