Can't Buy Me Love by Abigail Drake, Tammy Mannersly, Bridie Hall, Grea Warner, Lisa Hahn, Melissa Kay Clarke, Stephanie Keyes (1)

A ROYAL PAIN

The shoes sat in the window display, mocking me. Even at a discounted price, I could never have afforded them, but I wanted them, so badly it hurt.

I turned away, knowing I had to spend what little money I had on other things. Important things. Things I never would have even thought of a few years ago when my whole life had revolved around parties, dresses, shoes, and shopping.

Food. Utilities. Lunches for my little sister. A mountain of medical bills.

I glanced at my watch. I was running late again and would barely have enough time to grab coffee for my evil boss and get to work.

I stole one last longing glance over my shoulder at the shoes before taking off at a trot to the coffee shop. The line looked short, but I ended up behind a woman questioning every single item on the menu.

“What is a mocha exactly?” she asked.

Oh, no, I thought, and panic set in. This might take a while.

When I finally got to the front of the line, the barista handed me my order with a sympathetic smile. “Running late again, Chloe?”

“As always.” I grabbed the coffee and gave her a generous tip. The poor girl made even less than I did. A true travesty.

“Be careful. It’s hot,” she said as I juggled my purse, cell phone, and the flimsy cardboard cup holder. “You wouldn’t want to spill coffee on your pretty coat.”

My coat was a remnant from the days when I could afford cashmere and didn’t worry about buying something white and frivolous. Now I wore it, because it kept me warm on a cold November morning in New York City. Fashion had nothing to do with it. How times had changed.

I left the shop, dodging pedestrians and moving as quickly as I could in heels. My shoes were also an item from the old days—four inches high, four years old, and scuffed from overuse, but it wasn’t like I could start wearing flats. I’d probably have an allergic reaction. I might even break out in hives. That would make a bad day even worse.

I’d hoped to cross before the light changed, but didn’t make it. I tried to wiggle through the crowd to reach the front of the pack, but got rudely jostled by a tall, smelly man in a black overcoat. He reeked of body odor, sweat, and something odd and minty. I jostled him right back, wrinkling my nose at the smell, and slipped past. I refused to put up with any more nonsense this morning. I’d had enough. I couldn’t take anymore.

I’d left our apartment on Park Avenue extra early this morning, after setting up my father by the window in his wheelchair and saying goodbye. Not that he answered. He never answered. It was our morning routine.

But what should have been a fifteen-minute walk to the Flatiron District had taken close to thirty. Why? Because of those shoes. Because of the woman in the coffee shop. Because I had poor time management skills. Because I’d become a living, breathing example of Murphy’s Law. Whatever could possibly go wrong did go wrong. Always

I glanced at my watch again, ready to run, as the Madison Avenue traffic crawled past. It would take a miracle for me to get to work on time today, and I’d been sadly lacking in miracles lately.

The light turned red, finally, and the crowd pressed from behind, startling me and making me spill hot coffee all over my fingers and down the front of my jacket.

“No, no, no.”

I felt a small surge of panic in my chest. Patricia, the meanest boss in the world, would have only have half a soy latte this morning, another thing she’d rage about, and I didn’t have time to get her another one. The entire office would pay the price, but I would receive the brunt of her anger. Arriving late and in a stained coat was bad enough. Arriving without a full cup of coffee was basically a mortal sin.

I took a tissue out of my pocket and dabbed at the coffee on my jacket. Hopeless, especially because I tried to do it while simultaneously sprinting across a crowded street in my heels. Not my best idea.

My shoe got stuck on something, and I’d been moving so fast I couldn’t stop my momentum. I went flying, a redheaded missile wearing only one shoe and a badly stained cashmere coat.

Total nightmare.

I’d had a lot of bad Mondays, but this was officially the worst on record. The Monday to end all Mondays. A sad statement about my life in general.

Things happened in slow motion as I fell. I still clutched the coffee holder, but it was empty now. Both cups of coffee had hit the man walking in front of me squarely in the back when I’d lost my shoe. Tall, blond, and wearing an expensive looking suit, he stopped moving when I plowed into him, flattening him like a pancake. I’d hit the man with the force of one of those WWF wrestlers as they bounced off the ropes and did some kind of move. Like a screwdriver or a snowplower or something. He landed beneath me, covered in coffee, my boobs on top of his head. I heard the breath leave his body in a huff, and then felt something sharp and painful hit me. Right in the ass.

“What the heck?” I asked to no one in particular.

Definitely the Monday to end all Mondays.

I tried to get off him, but couldn’t move. Someone else had fallen on top of me, and held me down. My hands and jacket were covered in coffee, and something warm ran down my leg. My face was tender and felt scraped from where it had hit the pavement, and my butt hurt. A lot.

I heard screaming, and a big commotion, but I couldn’t tell what was going on. The man beneath me stayed very still and quiet, but the one on top of me shifted back and forth, like he was looking around.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to lift my head. The man on top of me shoved it back down. The pebbles on the pavement dug into my cheek, and it was a little hard to breathe with my chest smashed into someone’s head.

Finally, just when I’d reached my breaking point, the person on top of me got up, and gently turned me onto my side. I looked over my shoulder, planning to give him a piece of my mind, but stopped as soon as I saw his face. Dark hair, dark eyes, an arrogant nose, and a chiseled jaw. Hot. Just my luck. He must be someone famous, an actor or a male model or something, and I’d made a fantastic first impression. Covered in coffee and kissing the pavement, I’d never looked quite this horrible in my whole entire life. Even when I’d gone on spring break with my best friend, Norah, and we’d gotten drunk and ended up sleeping in a barn. Even that day, covered in hay and reeking of horse poo, I’d looked better than this.

I tried to get to my feet, but the Dark Hottie held me down, refusing to let me get up. He made me lie in the middle of the street.

“Stay still. You’re injured,” he said softly, his voice deep and husky.

I was surprised to hear his accent, which sounded very upper-crust English, but mixed with hint of something else, traces of a language I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t quite figure it out, but I had other, more pressing things on my mind at the moment.

“Injured? What are you talking about? I’m not injured.”

He rolled up his dark suit jacket, his muscles flexing under his impeccably ironed white dress shirt, and put the jacket under my head, like a pillow. “Just stay still.”

Two other men in dark suits helped Mr. Blondie Man to his feet and rushed him off. He glanced back at me as they led him away. I frowned. I’d seen his face before. Another hottie, probably someone important, and I’d tackled him like a linebacker.

It took me a second to realize the dark man next to me had one hand firmly placed on my bottom, right where it hurt most, as he held me down. A crowd had gathered, and they stared at me with mouths agape, whispering and pointing. Dark Hottie scowled at them.

“Give us some space, please, ladies and gentlemen. Back off. Now.”

He had the voice of authority, and the people in the crowd listened to him, moving a few feet away. But they continued to stare at me, and he still had his hand on my bum.

I tried to pull my skirt back into place. I was showing half of the Flatiron District my lacey lilac-colored undies. Not a good thing. Now I’d arrive at work not only late, covered in coffee and filthy, but I’d also be on YouTube. And I only had on one shoe.

Dark Hottie spoke into his sleeve, like a secret service agent. “The Chessman is safe. I repeat, he is safe. But the suspect has escaped, and I have a girl down. I need medical assistance. Immediately.”

He pushed even harder on my butt. I glared at him. “Get your hands off my ass, Mister. Now.”

His blinked at me in surprise. “You’ve been shot. I’m applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.”

“I’ve been what?” A wave of nausea crashed over me and suddenly, I became aware of how much pain I was in. My butt felt like it was on fire. “Is blood running down my leg?”

“Yes. What did you think it was?”

“Coffee.”

“Coffee?” He raised a dark eyebrow at me. “Didn’t you feel it when you got shot?”

I pushed the hair out of my face so I could glare at him. “Of course I did, but I was too busy trying to breathe with you lying on top of me to think about it.”

“I was attempting to protect you.” He pushed a little harder on my butt.

“That hurts. Damn you.”

Tears poured down my cheeks. Dark Hottie gave me what seemed like an attempt at a reassuring pat with the hand he wasn’t using to stop the bleeding. “There, there,” he said. “You’ll be as right as rain. It looks worse than it is. Redheads tend to be bleeders.”

Another wave of nausea came over me, and I did my best not to get sick. At least bystanders weren’t staring at my bottom anymore. Some of New York’s finest had formed a wall of blue around us, keeping the crowd at a more respectful distance.

I sniffed. “It’s not going to be okay. My boss is going to kill me. I spilled her c..c..c…coffee. I’m late for work. Again. And I think I lost my shoe.”

“I’ll find your shoe, and I’ll let your boss know what happened.”

“She won’t care. She’s mean. And that was the last decent pair of shoes I owned. I’ll have to walk around barefoot. Or in flats.”

I was full out sobbing now. Dark Hottie stayed with me, murmuring soothing words as I wept. When the ambulance arrived, he climbed in, his hand never leaving my bottom.

“We can take it from here, sir,” said the EMT.

“Oh. Right,” he said, looking a bit embarrassed as he took his hand off my bum, but he stayed in the ambulance, holding my hand. I was glad. I didn’t want to be alone.

“I’m sorry I was cranky,” I said. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

His lips twitched. “You earned the right to be cranky. You were shot.”

“In the ass. It figures,” I said, feeling woozy. “And I’m always cranky without coffee. And on Mondays. It’s kind of a thing with me. I think I’m rambling. Am I rambling? And I don’t even know your name.”

He gave me a little smile. “Nicolai Mercia. But most people call me Nico.”

“Oh.” He looked like a Nicolai, or maybe a Maximilian. Something exotic, and yet powerful and sexy at the same time.

The EMT gave me something in an IV that took the edge off the pain and made me feel a whole lot better. “I’m Chloe Burkhart,” I said. “Why would anyone shoot me? It doesn’t make sense. I’m nothing. I’m…nobody.”

Things began to get a little fuzzy, and suddenly I could barely keep my eyes open. I didn’t feel the least bit concerned when the EMT lifted my skirt to get a better look at my wound. Nico glanced away, too much of a gentlemen to stare at my undies.

“They weren’t shooting at you. They were shooting at the prince.”

“Prince? What prince?”

The words came out slurred, and if Nico answered I was too out of it to understand his response. I couldn’t afford to be shot. I couldn’t afford to miss work. Knowing Patricia, she’d fire me, and I’d have to scrub toilets for a living to keep my sister from starving. Ella, a teenager, was perpetually hungry. It would take a lot of toilets to earn enough money to feed her.

“I hate my life,” I said. “I want a redo.”

As the sirens wailed and the ambulance carried me though the crowded streets of New York, I sank into a blissful darkness. I’d been right about one thing. This was officially the worst Monday morning ever.

~

I woke to find Ella’s sweet worried face hovering over mine. “Chloe? Are you okay?”

I nodded, still groggy. “Yes, but I got shot in the butt. I guess I’ll have to skip the thong bikini when we go to St. Tropez this summer.”

I said it to cheer her up, and it had the desired effect. We both knew we couldn’t afford a trip to the Jersey Shore, let along St. Tropez. She gave me a wobbly smile, but I could tell she’d been crying.

“You were never much of a thong girl anyway,” she said. “No great loss.”

I glanced around the room. It was filled with giant bouquets of gorgeous flowers. “Did someone die?”

She laughed. “No…thanks to you. You’re a hero, Chloe. You saved Prince Alexander of Latovia today. He would have died if it weren’t for you. The flowers are from the prince. And the Mayor of New York. And the president.”

“The president?”

“Of the United States,” she said, pointing to a large bouquet in the corner of the room, her eyes huge in her face. “He called you a national treasure.”

I frowned, perplexed, as the events of this morning rushed back to me. “Oh, God. What time is it? Patricia is going to fire me. For real, this time.”

I tried to get up from the bed, but Ella held me down. “Stay still. You just had surgery. You aren’t going to work, and Patricia won’t fire you.”

“Did you call her to let her know what happened?”

Ella bit her lip, obviously trying not to grin. “I didn’t have to.” She turned on the television hanging on the wall at the foot of my bed. As she flipped through the channels, I stared in shock. On each channel, the lead story was about one topic. Me.

On NBC, a perky blond reporter stood in front of the coffee shop I’d visited this morning. “Socialite Chloe Burkhart saved the life of Prince Alexander of Latovia today. The crown prince, in New York on a diplomatic mission, was the target of an assassination attempt. Brave Ms. Burkhart, took the bullet for him.” The reporter’s eyes filled with tears. “It makes me proud to be a New Yorker.”

“Oh, my,” I said.

“There’s more.” Ella switched to CBS. A photo of me in an evening gown flashed on the screen. It had been taken at a charity event several years ago, right before Mom died.

I cringed. “Why did they have to choose that photo? I hate it. My butt looks so enormous. It may even have its own gravitational pull.”

Ella snorted. “Maybe that’s why the bullet hit you there. Kind of hard to miss.”

I smacked her arm and listened to another perky reporter, this time a brunette, talk about what had happened this morning. “Chloe Burkhart, of the Burkhart Books Publishing House, leapt into action early today to save the life of visiting royalty.”

“Ugh. Did she have to mention Burkhart Books?” I asked. It had been our family business for generations, but it didn’t belong to us anymore. A few years ago my father sold it, very foolishly, for much less than it was worth.

It didn’t bother him. The book gene had skipped his generation somehow. He only cared about having fun and maintaining the lifestyle my mother had grown accustomed to. When he lost her in the same car accident that left him permanently disabled, he’d stopped caring about anything at all.

“Maybe they don’t know what happened,” said Ella. “To our family, I mean.”

“It’s possible,” I said, hoping it might be the case.

I’d discovered soon after my mother’s death my father had trusted the wrong people, invested in the wrong things, and ended up practically losing everything. We’d only kept the apartment and the money put aside by my grandfather to pay for Ella’s education. The stipend covered the cost of the exclusive private school she attended and would pay for college as well, but it didn’t meet the cost of other things, like her uniforms. Field trips. School projects. Food. Basic necessities.

I could have sent her to the public school down the street, but she’d suffered enough already. Taking her away from all her friends and the only school she’d ever known would have been even more of a trauma.

Being a teenager was hard enough. Being different from other kids made it even more arduous. While the other children at her school went to St. Barts or skiing over vacation, she made excuses and stayed at home. She never complained, but it was hard being the only poor kid in school full of wealthy socialites and people who came from old money.

Thankfully, she only had one year left before college. And, I had one year left until I turned twenty-five and could dip into my own trust fund. It wasn’t enough to solve all my problems, but I’d be able to help Ella get through the university and keep the heat on in our apartment.

Thinking about the apartment made my stomach tighten in knots. The only thing we still owned, it was a giant, drafty noose around my neck. We’d sold the cars, the artwork, my mother’s furs, and almost all of the furniture, but I couldn’t force my dad to get rid of the apartment. It had become his world, the only thing he had left of her. An empty shell of a home for an empty shell of a man.

I let out a frustrated sigh. He needed therapy, but we couldn’t afford it. We couldn’t afford much of anything. Thank goodness Ella didn’t have a nut allergy, because half of her meals were now made from peanut butter and white bread.

The words Chloe Burkhart, an American Hero flashed across the bottom of the screen.

“This is ridiculous…” I began, but Ella shushed me, her eyes raptly glued to the television.

“Joe McNulty of Queens saw it happen,” said the reporter as she handed the microphone to a dark haired man with an impressive mustache.

“That redhead in the dirty white coat flew way up in the air to block the bullet,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “She saved his life, for sure. She deserves a medal or something. She’s a true hero in my book.”

I stared at the TV screen, stunned. “I’m now a ‘redhead in a dirty white coat’? Are you kidding me?”

“At least, he didn’t mention seeing your undies. Another guy went on and on about them in an earlier interview. He called you ‘the purple panties lady.’ Hey, are you going to eat that?” she asked, nodding toward the lunch provided to me by the hospital, an unappetizing assortment of dry toast, Jell-O, and ginger ale. I passed it over to her, and she munched on the bread enthusiastically. “But like Joe McNulty of Queens said, you’re a hero, Chloe,” she said between bites. “That’s the important part. You’re famous. And, guess what? We’ve had ten calls already asking for interviews. Someone is even talking about a potential book offer. People are willing to give us a whole lot of money just for the chance to speak with you.”

“But…” I wanted to tell her the truth. I wasn’t a hero. I hadn’t saved anyone’s life, not on purpose anyway. Ella stopped the words in my throat when she looked at me, her eyes filling with tears.

“We’ll be able to pay off some of Dad’s medical bills, and we might even be able to get him into therapy. I’m sorry you got hurt, Sissy, but this might be the best thing to happen to us in a long time.”

Little Ella. My mini-me. Some people called her my clone. We had the same red hair, an inheritance from our mother, and the same cat-like green eyes, a gift from our father. We were both a little on the tall side, and while Ella was still a lanky teenager, soon she’d have my curvy figure as well. But there the similarities ended. Ella was a million times more sensible and mature than I’d been at her age. She had to be. She didn’t have a choice.

My heart squeezed in my chest as I stared at her. She’d outgrown her school uniform again. The blouse stretched tight across her bosom, and the skirt hovered above the acceptable length on her thighs. She was growing like a weed, and I knew I’d be getting a call soon. The people at the school thought she was being rebellious, wearing short skirts on purpose. They’d even given her detention once. They had no idea we couldn’t afford to buy new uniforms, and we’d never tell them. We may have lost the Burkhart fortune, but we still had the Burkhart pride. It was the only thing keeping us going sometimes.

I knew I should tell the truth. I hadn’t saved anyone’s life on purpose. It had been a complete and utter accident. But when I saw the hope shining in Ella’s eyes, something I hadn’t seen there in a long time, I made my decision.

“How much money are we talking about exactly?”

~

Later that afternoon, after Ella had gone home to make Dad dinner, Nico showed up at my room. I’d been napping, and woke with a start to find him hovering awkwardly in my doorway, like a six and a half foot tall, muscular puppy. He carried a bouquet of lilacs tied with a purple velvet ribbon. Simple, elegant, and perfect.

“Hey,” I said, struggling to get myself in a seated position and wincing at the twinge of pain the small motion brought. Both the local anesthetic and the painkiller had worn off. I thought about calling the nurse and asking for more, but decided to tough it out. The last thing I needed at this point was an addiction to painkillers. It would be the icing on the cake of my messed up life.

Nico moved toward me, his face concerned. “Shall I call for a nurse? You look pale.”

“It’s my natural shade.” I leaned back on the pillow as gingerly as I could. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“You lost of lot of blood.”

“The doctors tell me it would have been much worse if you hadn’t stopped the bleeding,” I said. “Thank you.”

His lips twitched in what looked like the barest hint of a smile. “You are most welcome.” He put the lilacs on the tray next to my bed, and pulled a box with a big bow on it from behind his back. “For you.”

“What is this?” I asked, tearing open the wrapping paper on the box and recognizing the contents immediately. Manolo Blahniks. To replace the shoes I’d been wearing. Except these were the newest style, not from many seasons ago like mine. “You didn’t have to do this,” I said. I almost hugged them, but thought it would have been kind of weird.

He stuck his hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out the shoe I’d lost before I’d gotten shot. Filthy and twisted, the heel jutted out at an odd angle. Kind of a pitiful metaphor for my life, if a person looked into those sort of things, and I definitely did.

Nico shook his head apologetically, the bedraggled shoe balanced in one massive hand. “I doubt very much this one could be repaired. I do apologize.”

“In all honesty, they weren’t in the best condition even before the accident.” I frowned. Calling it that didn’t seem right, but it was all I could come up with. I lifted the lilacs and took a whiff. “These are my favorite flowers. Thank you so much. How did you know, and where did you get them? They certainly aren’t in season right now.”

He blushed, which took me a bit by surprise. “Lucky guess,” he said. “And you can find anything in New York, if you look hard enough.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Chloe, I need to talk with you about what happened. Can you give me a description of the man who shot Prince Alexander? How did you know what was going on?”

Now it was my turn to blush. I stuck my face in the lilacs again. “It all happened so quickly. I can’t remember, to be honest, and I didn’t know he was a prince. I saw the gun, and simply reacted.”

To my chagrin, my hands shook. Nico eyed me with a concerned frown. “I’m sorry. You’ve been through so much. I shouldn’t trouble you with this right now.”

He came closer to the bed and took my shaking hands in his. As soon as he touched me, I felt a zap of something, almost like electricity, shoot across my skin.

Lust. Pure and simple.  Holy guacamole. I was lusting after Nico.

My eyes widened in surprise as I pulled my hand away. He looked a bit thrown off as well. Could he have felt the same thing? It seemed improbable someone like sexy and sophisticated Nicolai Mercia could have a lust-zap for someone as pathetic as poor, shot-in-the-ass Chloe Burkhart. But maybe he had felt something.

He cleared his throat and backed away from me slightly. “You saw it happen and reacted? Incredible. Those are amazing reflexes. I know men who’ve trained for years who don’t possess that kind of speed, or instinct.”

I shrugged. “Right place, right time?”

He looked less than convinced, but a commotion at the door drew his attention. My best friend, Norah Knowles, stood in the doorway, her arms filled with balloons, flowers, and what looked like the world’s largest box of Godiva chocolate. She threw everything at Nico and pulled me into her arms.

“Chloe. You almost died. I can’t believe it.” She blinked away tears as she cupped my face in her hands. “God. You need blush. You’re as pale as a ghost.”

As she dug in her purse for blusher, I introduced her. “Norah, this is Nico. He took care of me today when I got shot.” It felt weird saying that. Normal people did not get shot crossing the street on their way to work. “Nico, this is Norah, my co-worker and my oldest and dearest friend.”

They shook hands, and Norah gave him a long look, taking in the silky dark hair, the sexy stubble on his chin, and his eyes so brown, they almost seemed black. “Well, hello there.”

She tucked one of her blond locks behind her ear and adjusted her tortoise shell glasses. Naturally flirtatious, Norah appreciated a fine-looking man. And Nico fit the bill.

He shifted, a bit uncomfortable, and moved toward the door, towering over the diminutive Norah. “Well, I shall leave you to spend time with your friend. I’ll be in touch soon, Ms. Burkhart. The prince would like to meet with you in order to thank you personally.”

He nodded, then left the room. Norah watched him go, staring at his butt. I kind of stared at it, too. I couldn’t help it.

“Uh, wow,” said Norah. “You go, girl.”

I swatted her arm. “Shut up. It’s not like that. He works for the prince…or something.” I’d never asked Nico about what he did exactly. “I think he’s a bodyguard.”

Norah sighed. “He can guard my body anytime, but I have a feeling he’s not my type. Way too gloomy. And serious. And smart. I only date idiots. It’s kind of my thing.” She picked up the lilacs and looked for a vase to put them in. When she couldn’t find one, she considered using either the bedpan or the water pitcher. Fortunately, she decided on the pitcher, plunking them inside. “Did Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous bring you these? How did he know you liked lilacs?”

I frowned, puzzled, and a thought occurred to me. “Oh, gosh. I had on lilac colored undies. Do you think…?”

Norah lifted one well-penciled eyebrow. “If so it’s a message, but let’s back up a bit. He saw your undies?”

“Yes. When I got shot. He applied pressure.”

“To your ass?” She stared at me in disbelief. “Oh, man. Some people have all the luck.”

“How was work today? As terrible as usual?”

Norah snuggled up next to me on my bed. I put my head on her shoulder, happy she was there. I’d been hired by Wilson Publishing based on my Ivy League education and my name. My boss, Patricia, had resented me from the moment we’d met. She’d clawed her way up to the top, and considered me undeserving. She thought I worked at Wilson for fun and had no idea I needed this job to survive.

“Well, let me say, it’s a good thing you got shot in the butt today. It was more pleasant than dealing with Patricia.”

“She was on a rampage?”

“Oh, yes. She made three secretaries cry. It was ugly. And she came within seconds of firing you, but she changed her tune when she found out what happened. Now, guess what? You’re Patricia Little’s new bestie. She loves you. She nearly organized a candlelight vigil in your honor. I had to remind her you weren’t dead, which put a stop to the whole idea.”

Norah opened the box of chocolates and plopped one into her mouth. She picked out one filled with strawberries and cream, my favorite, and put it into my mouth. We’d been friends since kindergarten. We had no boundaries. She pulled out a list from her purse.

“What’s that?” I asked, my mouth full of fruity, chocolate bliss.

She showed it to me. “These are all the people who’ve contacted Ella, asking for an interview. I’ve listed them in order of importance.” She rattled off a list of names of the most prestigious news organizations in the country. “Just to let you know, Patricia said you’re to have all the time you need to recover. She said it in front of the news crews who came to get some shots of the office. Generous of her, huh? Well, at least now she can’t take it back. I think you could milk at least two or three weeks out of it. I’ve taken a week off work to deal with this, too. Patricia didn’t like it. I thought her head was going to explode, but you need my help, so she had to listen. This is big stuff.”

I blanched. “Because so many people want to talk to me?”

“Yes,” said Norah. While I’d been flitting around in college reading Jane Austen and dating men with beards, Norah had been doing something useful. Pursuing a degree in public relations and marketing. She was a genius at it. “And rumor is that Burkhart Books is pulling out the big guns. They’re planning to offer a book contract to you, the big kind. The kind you cannot refuse. But we have to start here, with these interviews. This is step one. We’re going to put these in order, respond to them one by one, and get you ready for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Your first public appearance. You’re getting discharged, and the cameras will be rolling. We have one chance to get it right, so that’s what we’re going to do. And I’m here to help.”

~

Norah knew her stuff. When it came time for my discharge, and my first appearance in my new role as America’s most heroic sweetheart, Norah had me ready. My makeup was flawless, thanks to Ella, who was naturally gifted in the cosmetics department. She did it right before rushing off to school that morning. And my outfit, hand chosen by Norah, made tears come to my eyes.

“This was Mom’s,” I said. The Chanel suit, which brought out my natural skin tones and complimented my red hair, fit perfectly. As a bonus, it matched the shoes Nico had given me. Thank goodness, because I never would have fit into my mother’s shoes. She’d worn a six. The last time I’d fit into her shoes had been in the fifth grade.

“And you should carry flowers.” Norah looked around the room, which was like a flower shop at this point. “Which ones do you want?”

“The lilacs,” I said, without hesitation.

“Good choice,” said Norah. “What about the rest of the flowers?”

I thought about it. “Keep the notes so I can send out thank you cards, but could you send the flowers to the patients at St. James Hospital? They took such good care of Dad after the accident. How’s he doing, by the way? Did you see him this morning?”

Norah’s eyes grew shuttered. “He’s fine. The same.”

“Does he know about what happened to me?”

“Of course. We told him.”

I didn’t ask what he’d said in response. I could tell from the way Norah acted he probably hadn’t said much at all. I shouldn’t be surprised, but it caused a sharp stab of pain in my heart. For all his faults, my father had always been there for me--fun and so much larger than life. Since my mother died, it was like he’d shrunk, both mentally and physically, and his spirit, his joie de vivre, had died a cold, miserable death the moment my mother’s heart had stopped beating.

Norah handed me a mirror. “Here she is, ladies and gentlemen. America’s darling debutant and their favorite superhero socialite, Ms. Chloe Burkhart.”

I shook my head at her, but when I looked into the mirror, I had to admit Norah knew what she was doing. My hair had been brushed until it shone. She pulled it over to one side so the bruises and scrapes on my cheek were partially covered, then she demonstrated how to show them to the camera at exactly the right moment.

“You need to be perfect, but not too perfect. They have to see what happened to you, the damage done to mar your delicate porcelain skin.”

I snorted. “Really, Norah?”

She nodded, her face serious. “Trust me. Do it exactly as we practiced. The key today is not to say too much. We want them hungry for more, so we’ll reveal your story one delicious tidbit at a time.”

“You’re kind of scary. You realize that, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “At least, I’m using my powers for good instead of evil, as you’ve always encouraged me to do.”

She was right. Polar opposites in high school, Norah was the one to get into trouble. A straight ’A’ student and the president of every club, I was the one trying to keep her out of it. We’d been good for each other. I’d had a lot more fun thanks to her, and she’d had fewer detentions, thanks to me. The perfect friendship.

A nurse came and wheeled me into the hallway. To my surprise, Nico stood there, waiting.

“Hello, handsome foreign man,” said Norah. “Do you wake up like that, all tall, dark, and delectable, or do you have to work on it? I have a feeling it’s completely natural, which kind of pisses me off.”

Nico blinked in surprise, appearing unsure about how to respond. Norah did it a lot to people. She liked to keep them a bit off balance.

“She has no filter,” I said. “You’ll get used to it.”

He nodded, his eyes taking in my suit, the heels, and the lilac blossoms clutched in my hands. “You’re looking well today, Ms. Burkhart.”

Norah snorted. “She looks better than well and you know it, Nico. She’s perfect.”

I mouthed the words shut up to Norah, and turned to Nico. “What are you doing here?”

Norah answered for him. “He’s on a special mission from the prince. They still haven’t caught the evil bugger who shot you, so Nico’s going to hang out with you a bit, to keep you safe.”

Images of Nico strolling through our vacant apartment and seeing my almost catatonic father, in his wheelchair, flashed through my mind. “There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Nico gave me a curt little bow. “It isn’t up to me. The prince commands it.”

“Oh.” For some reason his words made me feel a bit deflated. And the idea of him seeing how we lived, the pity I’d find in his eyes, almost made me rethink this whole venture.

Private things should be kept private, and the life Ella and I now shared was the most private thing of all. Our dirty little secret. No one needed to see it. I’d only let Norah in on it because she insisted, and she’d practically threatened to knock down my door if I didn’t.

Norah watched me carefully. “We’ll discuss the details later. It’s time to get Chloe home. She needs to be alone for a while so she can get some rest.”

I looked up at her and nodded, grateful she understood my feelings. “Thanks, Norah.”

“That’s what friends are for, Red. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

She didn’t have to remind me to smile shyly for the cameras, or to answer the reporters’ questions in a soft and slightly unsure voice. We’d rehearsed it, and I was a quick learner.

“Ms. Burkhart. Can you tell us what occurred exactly?”

I widened my eyes, making them appear even larger in my still pale face. “I’m not sure. It happened so quickly…and I hit my head.”

I adjusted my hair ever so slightly, in the most subtle of motions, and turned my face far enough the ugly purple and yellow marks on my cheek were clearly visible.

I bruised easily, and even the smallest bump caused an angry purple mark to appear. Face planting on the asphalt had been a lot more than a little bump, and my bruises were spectacular today. Even the seasoned newspapermen who stood in front of me gasped when they saw them.

“You are so brave,” said one of them, staring at me with what looked like adoration in his eyes.

I lowered my lashes, trying to be as demure and modest as possible. “I was in the right place at the right time. Lucky me,” I said with a little smile.

Camera bulbs flashed as the reporters quickly jotted down what I’d said in their notebooks. Norah had crafted the sentence, but I’d added the “Lucky me” part at the end spontaneously. I was glad I did. Norah gave me a nod of approval.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Chloe is exhausted and still recovering from her surgery. She needs to rest.”

They shouted out additional questions, but I waved to them as the nurse wheeled me to the waiting limo. It had two small Latovian flags perched on either side of the hood, and a uniformed driver opened the door for me. I stood up slowly from the wheelchair, well aware the crowd of reporters still filmed me. I turned to them, placing a small and yet extremely brave smile on my lips, as Norah and I had practiced, before allowing Nico to help me gently slide into the car, wincing a bit when my bottom hit the seat.

“Thank you,” I murmured. Although I’d been playing the part of the wounded heroine well, it had hurt to get into the car. More than I’d expected. Maybe I should have taken those nurses up on their offers of extra painkillers. I smiled in spite of the pain, trying not to let Nico see how much I was hurting.

Nico, it seemed, wasn’t easily fooled. “We’ll have you home soon,” he said softly. “The reporter was right. You are very brave.”

I let out a little laugh. “Is there any other option? If so, I’d love to take it.”

I leaned back against the leather interior of the car and closed my eyes. Nico buckled me in, giving me a slightly awkward pat on the shoulder, before shutting the door of the limo and moving to his spot in the front of the car. Norah slid in beside me, and I was asleep in minutes. I woke up about twenty minutes later, as Nico carried me into my apartment building. I was surprised to find I liked having his strong arms wrapped around my body. He carried me as if I weighed practically nothing and made me feel safe and protected, something I hadn’t experienced in years. But I couldn’t let myself get comfortable with it, or with him.

I insisted he put me down once we reached the elevator, and didn’t invite him into our apartment. I said goodbye to him formally, at the front door, giving him a handshake and a small nod. He handed me my bouquet of lilacs, and shot me a quizzical look, like he didn’t understand my strange behavior.

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow, and there is a guard posted both outside your door and downstairs. You should be safe, as long as you don’t venture out. Are you in agreement with me on that?”

“Yes, of course.” Standing upright had become a challenge. I leaned heavily on Norah, wanting to climb into bed and stay there the rest of the day. Nico seemed to understand I’d hit my breaking point.

“I shall leave you to get some rest,” he said, with an elegant bow of his dark head.

As he walked away, I realized I’d seen something flash in Nico’s eyes earlier while I’d spoken with the reporters. Something which scared me.

Doubt.

Although the reporters lapped up my words like a cat laps up cream, I could tell Nico wasn’t buying it. He didn’t believe my story, and, unless I could convince him otherwise, I could be in some big trouble indeed.

~

“Wake up, sleepy head.”

Norah barged into my room the next morning with the subtlety of a freight train, ranting about what a nightmare Patricia was and how much she hated working at Wilson Publishing. Her diatribe was liberally sprinkled with “F” bombs, typical for Norah when she got fired up about something.

“So, in conclusion, I stopped into the office today long enough to get an earful. Patricia is a bitch, but she’s trying to play nice right now because you’re like America’s new sweetheart. The cow.” She let out her breath in a huff. “But I’m not here to talk about Patricia and her evil ways. I’m here to talk about you.” She wore a black and white checkered wool skirt, a black turtleneck, and had her crazy, curly hair pulled into a bun. Her ‘business look,’ which meant I was in trouble. The calculating gleam in her eye made it even worse.

I stretched, feeling the faint pull and twinge of my stitches on my bum. Not as bad as yesterday, though. I also felt less drowsy and foggy, but I still wasn’t quite up to dealing with Hurricane Norah yet. Ella must have read my mind. She scurried into my room, in her school uniform, with a tray in her hands. It was piled high with pancakes and a steaming cup of coffee.

“Bless you. Leaving for school already?” I asked, glancing at the clock on my wall.

“I have an early meeting before class,” she said, kissing my cheek. She smelled like a mix of lily of the valley and pancake syrup.

“Freaking overachiever,” grumbled Norah. “Just like your sister.”

Ella kissed Norah, too, and skipped out of the room. I heard her call out a goodbye to our father, but she got no response. Not that we expected one at this point. A few minutes later, the door to the apartment opened and closed behind her as she stepped outside.

“She’s a good kid,” said Norah, eying my pancakes. I pushed them toward her. My stomach still felt a little iffy. I decided to stick to coffee for the moment. Norah munched on the pancakes. “And an awesome cook.”

“She had to learn,” I said. “I’m hopeless. If she didn’t, we’d all starve.” I shot a nervous glance to the door. “How is he today?”

Norah shrugged. “The same. Silent. Staring. Sad. He did eat breakfast without any prodding, which is a good thing. More than I can say for you.”

I rubbed my belly. “I can’t help it. I’m still queasy. It’s from the anesthesia…and other things.”

Worry. Stress. Fear. All the normal stuff. Although I’d been exhausted, I had trouble falling asleep last night. I’d turned things over and over in my mind, trying to figure out the right course of action. I hated lying to the media, and presenting myself as something I wasn’t, but it felt like a beautiful gift had been placed in my lap the minute the bullet had penetrated my butt. I needed to get over the guilt and accept it, but my conscience’s inner voice would not shut up. I let out a frustrated sigh, and Norah gave me a funny look.

“You’re doing the right thing, Chloe.”

Norah didn’t know I hadn’t saved the prince’s life on Monday, but she could read me like a book and knew I was upset. She thought my guilt stemmed from making the incident work to my full advantage. Of course, if she had known the truth, her reaction would have been exactly the same. Although she had a good heart, Norah’s moral compass could be a bit skewed at times.

“I know. But it feels…tawdry.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you know what’s tawdry? The fact that I caught Ella darning socks this morning. She’s turning into something from Oliver Twist, for God’s sake. What’s next? Selling apples on the street corner? Before you know it, the kid will be joining a gang of orphan pickpockets and then we’ll all be sorry.”

My lips twitched. Norah always made things better. “Thanks, No-No.”

She kissed the top of my head. “Don’t mention it,” she said. “And never call me No-No again. I thought we went over that. It’s bad enough my parents still use the stupid nickname. You need to stop.”

For the first three years of her life, Norah said nothing except, “No-no.” I had a feeling it was because she heard it so much growing up. Norah had not been an easy child. She’d been born naughty.

“Fine. Sorry. What did you bring with you?” I nodded toward the large canvas tote Norah had dropped on the floor next to my bed. She lifted it with a smile and showed me the contents. Filled to the brim with newspapers and magazines, most of them featured the dreamy Prince Alexander of Latovia.

“I brought you eye candy.” She picked up a copy of a celebrity magazine with the prince on the cover. Golden hair, blue eyes, a sexy grin, and a perfectly placed dimple in one cheek. Of all the millions of people in New York, I’d chosen him to slam into, and accidentally take a bullet for. Maybe my luck was changing.

Incredibly handsome, and yet he looked nothing at all like Nico. They were complete opposites, in fact. Nico was like a large, grumpy bear. The prince a sleek, majestic lion. Nico rarely smiled. The prince always seemed to be having a great time. I tried to imagine Nico grinning, or even laughing. It was near impossible to do. Night and day. Dark and light. I had to wonder who was more typical of the Latovian people. Were they blond and happy like the price, or did they have Nico’s brooding nature and silky black hair?

The thought of running my hands through his hair made my fingers curl into my palms. He might be sullen, crabby and a little hostile at times, but he was still entirely too hot for his own good.

Norah showed me a photo of the prince sunbathing in Monaco. On a yacht, of course. If possible, his grin looked even sexier, and the man had the body of a god. “Holy wow.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Norah. “And you get to meet him in person. Tomorrow.”

I nearly spilled my coffee. “What?”

“I’ve arranged it all. Don’t worry. He wants to thank you for saving his life. I’ll bring you clothes in the morning and help you get ready. I have an adorable dress you can wear. I bought it ages ago, but I’ve never used it. We’ll make it an early Christmas gift.”

Norah always bought things for me and pretended they were cast off items she didn’t want. Normally, I’d yell at her, but today my attention was focused somewhere else.

“Wait…he’s coming here?”

She sat down on the side of the bed and squeezed my hand. “Calm down. Not here. No one will see the apartment…or your father. I promise. I said we’d meet in a suite at the Belmont Hotel, right next door.”

“And will our meeting be private, or a media side show?” I asked, raising one eyebrow at her.

She gave me a cheeky grin. “A side show. Of course. We’ve given this exclusive to Dirk Deacon of NBC. He’s your favorite.”

I put a hand over my heart. “He is my favorite.” Dirk had a cleft in his chin as deep as the Grand Canyon and he rivaled the prince in the blond-god category. I nibbled on my lower lip. Norah had it all planned out, but was I doing the right thing? Each step I took felt like one I couldn’t retrace, and once I started on this path, it would be impossible to turn back.

I heard a noise outside my bedroom, the sound of my father pushing his wheelchair down the hall. The only time he moved from his post by the window in the living room was to use the bathroom or go to bed at night. He didn’t speak. He barely ate. He hardly ever acknowledged us. Unless we got him some help, and quickly, I doubted he’d live much longer. How could a person survive when each moment seemed to be pure agony?

I imagined him wasting away, a like a dried-up, colorless leaf in the autumn, until one day he simply blew away in the wind. The thought made me ill. His once-full life had become a mockery of its former self. It was bad enough Ella had to grow up without a mother. I needed to do whatever I could to guarantee she had at least one parent around, even if it meant doing something which felt morally ambiguous and a bit sneaky.

I sat up straighter, and gave Norah a nod. “Go. I’ll do my research here. By the time I’m done, I’ll know more about Prince Alexander than anyone.”

“Good luck with that,” said Norah with a snort. “The man has his own fan club, and those women are obsessed. They will always know more about him than you.”

I gave her a challenging look. “Don’t bet on it.”

~

If there was one thing I excelled at, it was research. By the time Ella got home from school, I knew all there was to know about Prince Alexander and his lovely family. His mom looked like a stick in the mud, but his dad didn’t. A charming, balding, slightly paunchy version of Prince Alexander, he seemed like a bit of a playboy.

Ella grabbed the magazine from my hands and stared at Prince Alexander’s face. “He’s not like his dad, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a nice guy. A humanitarian. He was here to talk about ways to provide better education to children in remote villages all over the world. He builds libraries.”

“Ohhhh.” I couldn’t help the little zing piercing my heart.

Ella smiled, knowingly, aware of my weaknesses. “His platform is literacy, as well as education.”

I put a hand over my heart. “I bet he has his own fantastic personal library, like in Beauty and the Beast.”

“I’m sure he does,” said Ella, with a little chortle. She climbed into my bed and curled up next to me, like she did when she was small. I kissed her head. I’d been wishing for a long time I could do better for her. Now, I finally had my chance. I had to grab this opportunity while I could. For her, not for me.

“I love you, kid. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” she said with a yawn. “We’re stronger together.”

Fortis solum simul fortior. Strong alone, stronger together. Our family motto.

Ella fell asleep, still wearing her too tight school uniform. I stayed up much later, trying to figure out what to do. In the end, I knew I had few options open to me. In order to save Ella, I had to sacrifice part of myself. The part which had refused to be corrupted or bowed by all I’d been through. The part that had enabled me to hold my head up high, even through the worst of it.

“Stronger together,” I whispered against her hair.

I knew I could do this. But, I also knew I had no choice.

As I fell asleep, I pictured Nico’s face, judging me. For some reason, his opinion meant something, but I didn’t have the luxury of such an indulgence at the moment. I had to think only of the girl, curled up in my arms, fast asleep.

Ella was all that mattered. She was all that ever mattered. And I had to do right by her. No one else ever had.

~

We were supposed to meet for the first time on live TV, but Prince Alexander, it seemed, had other ideas.

“Ladies,” said Nico, who’d been waiting in the lobby of our apartment for Norah and me. “May I escort you both to the hotel?”

Norah had a large bag slung over her shoulder and a clipboard in her hands. She had her glasses on, which meant she took this seriously. I put my arm through hers, more for emotional support than physical at the moment.

“Yes,” I said, and he gave me a formal bow.

Quite a feat. It’s hard to be formal with someone when you’ve touched their nearly naked bottom Not that there had been anything romantic about the first time we’d met. He’d been giving me first aid that day, after all. But when I imagined him putting those big, rough hands on my bare skin in a different way, a sensual way, I broke out in a sweat.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look a bit…flushed.”

“Fine and dandy. And you?”

“As well as can be expected.” He seemed a little ticked off, but I had no idea what I’d done to deserve his anger.

“You don’t have to escort us to the hotel. Norah and I can make it on our own.”

I smoothed down the winter-white long sleeved dress Norah had chosen for me to wear today. It fit perfectly, and provided the ideal neckline for my mother’s antique pearl choker, one of the few remaining pieces of jewelry we’d managed to keep. With my red hair falling down my back in soft waves, and my make-up once again flawless, thanks to Ella’s magic touch, I felt in control and ready to take on the world. I didn’t need Nico’s negativity to bring me down.

“But I must. The prince commands it.”

“It’s next door. I think we can make it on our own.”

“Obviously, he disagrees. I shall accompany you, and it will be a short and yet ever so enjoyable journey.” His smile was tight and his voice positively dripped with sarcasm. Either Nico was not a morning person, or he was seriously annoyed about something.

“Okay,” I said. “Escort away.”

When we walked into the hotel, instead of going to the suite we’d been assigned, Nico took us to a different area of the hotel altogether. “What are we doing here?” I asked.

“The prince requests to see you in private prior to your televised appearance. Would you be amenable to his request?”

“Uh, sure.” I held back a giggle as I watched Norah’s face, knowing she struggled to remember what “amenable” meant.

I stopped laughing, however, when the prince opened the door. “Ms. Burkhart. At last. I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

He extended his hand and I shook it. Holy moly. The man was even better looking in real life than he was in magazines.

Maybe I had a thing for Latovian men. First, Nico had made my heart beat faster, and now the prince. Truth be told, the prince was more the sort of person I’d been attracted to in the past-- handsome, friendly, and polite. No grumbling, snarling, or dark, moody glances, and the twinkle in his bright blue eyes made me like him instantly. If I didn’t feel the same surge of lust for him I did for Nico, did it matter? He was extremely appealing, although Nico looked a bit like he might want to throttle him at the moment, and I wondered why.

“I’m happy to meet you again, too,” I said. “Under better circumstances this time.”

“Indeed.” He let go of my hand and turned to Norah. “You must be Ms. Knowles.”

Norah extended her hand, wide-eyed and a bit flustered. She had on a black mini skirt, tights, and chunky heels, and her crazy blond hair danced in curls around her face. “Your Royal Hotness. I mean Highness. Oops. Did I say that out loud?” She froze, looking completely mortified.

He beamed at her, still holding her hand. “I like it. I think I shall make it a new title and require Nico call me it every single day.”

Nico muttered something under his breath, making the prince laugh. Although I didn’t speak Latovian, I had a feeling whatever he said wasn’t complimentary.

We walked into the elegant suite, and the prince indicated we should sit opposite him, on a plush red velvet couch. Norah sat down and pulled out her notebook. Nico stood in the corner, near the window. I lowered myself gingerly, still mindful of the stitches in my bottom. They’d be out in a few days. I couldn’t wait.

The prince noticed my discomfort. “I’m so sorry you were hurt.”

“It’s okay. It was worth it,” I said with a smile.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “The police tell me if you hadn’t knocked me down at that precise moment, the bullet which pierced your…” He looked a bit uncomfortable as he tried to find a nice way to phrase it. He went the safe route. “…person would have hit me right in the heart. I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude, Miss Burkhart.”

“You’re welcome, and please call me Chloe. I think we’ve moved past formalities, haven’t we?”

He grinned. “I suppose we have. And you may call me Alexander. Or, better yet, Alex. It’s what Nico calls me, when he isn’t calling me something worse.”

I had to laugh at his comment. “Yes, I’m sure he does. He’s probably called me a few things, too.”

Nico shot me the stink eye, and Alex gave me a long, appraising look. “I like you, Chloe. What a lovely surprise.”

“I like you, too, Alex.”

He poured tea from the silver set on the coffee table in the center of the room, and handed a cup to each of us. Nico wasn’t interested in having tea. He chose to glower in the corner instead, a large, grumpy, Latovian bear. Alex’s face grew serious.

“May I speak openly with you for a moment?”

I took a sip of the tea. “Of course.”

“I normally wouldn’t agree to a televised interview, not like this, but I have ulterior motives. I’m in New York on a personal mission. I’m scheduled to speak at the United Nations in a few days about my foundation.”

“The literacy initiative?” asked Norah.

The prince’s eyes locked on her face and Norah, who’d never had a shy or awkward moment in her entire life, blushed a deep scarlet and dropped her pen. The prince’s ability to fluster women was remarkable. No wonder he had a fan club.

He picked up Norah’s pen and handed it to her. “Exactly. Well done. You’ve done your research, haven’t you? I’m impressed.”

“It’s important work you’re doing. I’m the one who’s impressed.” Norah seemed to have gotten control over herself, but her cheeks were still bright red.

“Thank you,” said Alex. “We’ve been reaching out to children living in remote villages all over the world, providing both internet access as well as building schools and libraries for them. It’s my passion, my calling, if you will, and I’m close to getting it implemented on a global scale. Any sort of positive media buzz I could create would be most beneficial to my cause.”

Norah had a calculating look in her eye. “Like the kind this whole incident has created?”

“Yes,” he said. “Although the assassination attempt was a horrible thing, the outcome has not been completely negative. People seem to respond warmly to the idea of a beautiful, young American woman saving my life. Word about my foundation has spread, and we’ve had a huge increase in both donations and in pledges of support. I was wondering…”

He paused, acting a bit unsure. It made me curious about where this was going exactly. “You were wondering what?”

He leaned close. “Would you be willing to accompany me to a few social events over the next few weeks? I know it’s a strange request, but I think it would benefit both of us. My foundation would remain in the news, and you would remain safely guarded.”

I shot Norah a look, trying not to giveaway too much with my expression, and saw her stifle a giggle. Accompanying a handsome prince as he attended parties and galas and other fun events? Uh, hello. Sign me up. But there was one thing that concerned me.

“Do you have any idea who this man is? The one who tried to kill you?”

He shook his head. “There is always someone out there who wants to hurt me, and usually their reasons are either political, historical, or utterly insane. Most have nothing at all to do with me, but it’s hard not to take it personally.”

“I can imagine. Then why were you walking around New York? Wouldn’t it have been safer to drive? And where were all the secret service guys and agents when you were getting shot at?”

He ducked his head, embarrassed. “I used to live in New York when I was a college student, and I loved the anonymity I experienced here. I missed being able to walk around on my own. I insisted on going for a short walk. I thought it would be perfectly safe. Nico disagreed, and, of course he was right. We brought several men with us, but it wasn’t enough. Now he’s the one who looks bad, even though none of it was his fault.”

Nico glared at him. “Alex. Do we have to discuss this?

Now I was curious. “He looks bad? What do you mean?”

Alex took a sip of tea. “Well, it happened on his watch, unfortunately. My father, the king, is most displeased. Eventually he’ll calm down, but right now he’s not listening to reason.”

I frowned. “But none of it was Nico’s fault.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. “It was. I should never have allowed it. But that isn’t the only problem. People are also wondering how you were able to stop the assassination attempt when I could not. And they want to know how I let the man get away so easily.”

I frowned. “Because you were keeping me from bleeding to death at the time.”

“Exactly,” said Alex, nodding. “I said the same thing. And there is another benefit to being together as much as possible while I’m in New York. It might give Nico just the opportunity he needs to catch the guy who tried to kill me.”

“And he could save face?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Nico shot me a dark look. I could tell this whole idea greatly disturbed him, but I had to admit the prince made a good point. “So by hanging out with you, I’d be helping Nico, too?”

“You would,” said Alex.

I didn’t have to look at Nico to know he continued to glare at me. His gaze nearly had a physical force, but I ignored him.

“If it’ll help Nico, of course I’ll do it. I kind of owe him one.”

“No, you don’t,” said Nico.

“Yes, I do,” I replied through tightly clenched teeth. Why did he have to be so difficult? I turned my attention back to Alex. “Just let me know which events you’d like for me to attend, and I’ll be there.”

“That will be lovely,” said Alex.

“But it’s not enough,” said Norah, as she chewed on the end of her pen. She leaned toward Alex, her grey eyes intense. “It’s nice if you hang out together, and you’ll generate a certain amount of media attention, but in order to get the kind of buzz you need for your foundation, you’ll have to take it a step further.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You need to pretend you’re dating. Romantically involved. A couple. Who wouldn’t be interested in that story? You’ll have more media attention than you could ever imagine.”

Alex nodded. “It’s a brilliant idea, but I’d hate to put Chloe in the position of having to feign interest in me.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Norah jumped in. “How hard could it be? You’re perfect. She won’t have to feign a thing.”

“I’m not sure about this…” I began. Nico interrupted me. He stomped over to where we were sitting, his face a mask of fury.

“That has to be the most ludicrous, horrible idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Why?” asked Alex. “Norah thinks it’s a good idea, and I agree.”

Nico’s face darkened. “You barely know them, and yet you are willing to trust them? They could go to the media and sell this story. Profit from your stupidity. You cannot do this.”

I wasn’t so keen on the whole idea myself, but now Nico pissed me off, and I found myself arguing for it as well. “I would never do anything to betray Alex or anyone else,” I said, getting heated myself. “I’m not that kind of person.”

“What kind of person are you? A woman willing to lie about something like this, is a woman willing to lie about other things, too.”

I stared at him, flabbergasted, but he was kind of right. Norah stepped in and saved me. “What if we signed a contract? If Chloe breaks it, which she will not, you can toss her in one of your Latovian dungeons or something.”

“Norah,” I said, shocked.

The prince laughed. “We do have quite a few dungeons. I think it would work.”

“It goes both ways,” said Norah. “If you break the contract, we get to lock you up in the basement of Chloe’s apartment building.”

“That sounds fair,” said Alex.

“None of you is taking this seriously,” said Nico. “This could be a disaster. For all of us.”

“It’ll only be a rumor,” I said. “Nothing more. Neither of us will substantiate it. We’ll be purposefully vague. And, when you two return to Latovia, it will simply fade away.”

“But once rumors start, it’s hard to make them stop. And it would be very easy to believe the prince could fall for you. You’re gorgeous and funny and smart….” His voice trailed off when he realized we were all starting at him. He cleared his throat. “My question is, why would you agree to do this?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I have my reasons.”

He gave me a snide look. “You want your fifteen minutes of fame. I see. Rather shallow of you, don’t you think?”

My cheeks got hot. “You can believe anything you want, Mr. Mercia. My reasons are my own, and they are none of your business.”

“She’s right. Stop badgering her, Nico. It’s most annoying.” Alex reached for my hand. “Will you do it, Chloe? Would you help me?”

“Yes,” I said. “It would be my pleasure.”

~

As I walked into the suite reserved by the television station, Alex was already there waiting for me, flanked by Nico on one side, and the darling of the morning news team, Dirk Deacon, on the other. We’d decided to arrive separately, to make it look like we were meeting for the very first time in front of the cameras. That had been Norah’s idea, of course. Now she hovered behind me, just out of view. We would get our photos taken by both local and national newspapers later, after the interview, but for now the prince and I were alone…or as alone as we could be with a crew of cameramen, sound techs, and miscellaneous television people in the room. In spite of the crowd, however, it felt intimate.

Nervousness about the whole plan we’d come up with had my stomach in knots. And the world was about to watch me lie, something I’d never been naturally good at, on live TV.

Dirk Deacon beamed at the camera. “Good morning. I’m here today with Prince Alexander of Latovia, who is visiting New York City to attend a special meeting at the United Nations. And our other guest is the woman of the hour, Ms. Chloe Burkhart, a member of the Burkhart Book dynasty.” 

Alex walked toward me slowly, his eyes on my face. He paused, staring at me like he wanted to memorize every detail, before taking my hand in his. He played it perfectly, the part of a man instantly smitten. Then he surprised me by getting down on one knee, and softly kissing the back of my hand.

I put my hand on my chest. I didn’t have to fake the flutter of my heart. Part of it came from getting kissed by a handsome prince. The other part had probably been caused from a combination of nerves and way too much caffeine.

When he rose, holding both my hands in his, the emotion I saw on his handsome face seemed real. “Ms. Burkhart. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

I looked up into his clear blue eyes and gave him the shy and winsome smile I’d practiced earlier with Norah. “You’re welcome, Your Highness. I’m glad I was able to help.”

Keeping his hands on mine, he gazed down at me with a rapt expression on his face. “Please. Call me Alex.”

The people watching our little display ate it up. Even the hardened reporter, Dirk Deacon seemed charmed. Only one person looked unimpressed, Nico, who shot me a smirk and rolled his eyes. I ignored him and focused on the prince.

“Only if you’ll call me Chloe.”

Alex smiled at me, the effect disarming. “Agreed.”

He led me to my seat, a plush couch, holding my arm in order to ease me down gently, mindful of my wounded area. He didn’t do it for the cameras, he did it because he was a gentleman, a true prince charming, and I knew the people back home watching would love every minute of it.

I didn’t have to fake the relief I experienced when I managed to sit without pulling on my stitches. Hopefully, it meant I was on the mend and would be better soon.

Dirk waited until I was settled, then he continued. “We’re here to discuss the assassination attempt on Prince Alexander, and Ms. Burkhart’s heroic part in thwarting it, but first, I have to ask, how are you feeling Ms. Burkhart?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Much better.”

I snuck a quick glance at Nico. He seemed more irritated than usual. Norah stood next to him, taking notes on her clipboard. She would record what I said, and also analyze what I could do differently. She should have been working for the president or something. She was that good, but she didn’t possess a great deal of motivation. A mind like Norah’s needed constant stimulation. I think she took the job at Wilson Publishing only in order to hang out with me on our lunch breaks. I had a feeling she wouldn’t last long there.

Dirk leaned toward me, his face intense. “Can you go over the events of Monday morning?”

I’d known this was coming. I sat up a little straighter in my chair. “Well, it was a typical Monday, which meant I was running late for work.”

Dirk smiled, showing dimples in his cheeks nearly as deep and impressive as the cleft in his chin. “And where do you work?”

“At Wilson Publishing. I’ve been there around three years now, since I graduated from college.”

“I see. So you were running late to work….”

“Yes. As always.” I gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I was nearly sprinting across the street when I bumped into someone, spilling my coffee. That’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The gun.” I lowered my voice for dramatic effect. “It was pointed at the back of the man walking across the street in front of me. The prince. Of course, I didn’t know it was him at the time.”

“What did you do?”

I shook my head in disbelief, like I was unable to comprehend it myself. “I knocked him down.” I bit my lip. “Sorry about getting coffee all over you. I didn’t think to put it down beforehand.”

“You’re forgiven,” said Alex with a smile. “And I think I owe you a soy latte. I got a taste of it when you threw it at me. It was quite good.”

I raised a finger. “No, the soy latte was for my boss. I drink my coffee black. You owe me one of those.”

“I owe you a great deal more than coffee, Chloe,” he said, his eyes on my face.

We stared at each other a long moment before Dirk cleared his throat. “So tell me, Ms. Burkhart, how did it feel to save this man’s life?”

I glanced at Alex, sitting on the couch right next to me. “The prince is someone important, and not only because of his title. He helps people all over the world. He builds libraries and schools for children. Isn’t that wonderful?” I’d gone off script, but I hadn’t known when Norah and I practiced I would be plugging for the prince’s foundation.

Dirk stared at me intently. The cleft on his chin was even more impressive in person. “You didn’t know it was Prince Alexander. To you, he was another random man in a suit crossing the street on a busy Monday morning. Why did you do it, Ms. Burkhart? I’m dying to know.”

I nibbled on my lip, giving Alex another shy look from under the safety of my long, dark lashes. “What is this world coming to if people stop helping each other? I did it for one reason, and one reason alone. Because I couldn’t have lived with myself, if I hadn’t.”

Dirk sat back him his chair, obviously taken aback by my response. Even I felt a little taken aback. And Nico, still standing in the wings, seemed confused. He stared at me, his dark eyes inscrutable. Alex was easier to read. He shook his head, obviously affected by my words.

“Ms. Burkhart. Whatever can I ever do to repay you?”

“Nothing,” I said, enjoying the little rush I got at the look of honest admiration and respect I saw in his eyes. “Buy me that coffee and we’ll call it even.”

He and Dirk both laughed, as did several of the people working behind the cameras. Norah beamed, so I knew I’d done well. Nico was the only person who hadn’t seemed impressed. He eyed me almost suspiciously, his dark brows drawn together in a frown.

Deceiving the entire country? Easy. Deceiving Nico Mercia? Mission impossible.

As we walked outside to greet the newspaper reporters already assembled, Alex offered me his arm. “Well done, Chloe,” he said softly. “You’re a natural.”

We smiled for the cameras, and answered a few brief questions from the reporters. Alex insisted we keep it short, saying I had to rest. It was a good thing he did. I barely made it back to the lobby of my building before I felt ready to collapse. Alex had been carted away in a limo, the flag of Latovia fluttering in the breeze. Nico had stayed with me, insisting he accompany me to my apartment. Norah came as well. I’d been too tired to protest. As he took my arm and guided me to the elevator, he began asking me more questions.

“Tell me again, Ms. Burkhart, how exactly did you see the gun?”

I looked at him in surprise. “You heard me tell Dirk Deacon all about it. The entire country knows the story now.”

“I would like to hear it again. From the moment you left your house that morning.”

“Are you serious?” I asked and he nodded. Norah waited, probably wondering why Nico needed this recap. I let out a long sigh. “Well, I left the house on time that morning, which was a small miracle.”

“You said you were running late.”

“I was running late, but I left on time. I got distracted by a pair of shoes in a shop window. They were so beautiful. I stopped to admire them, just for a second, but it meant I was behind when I reached the coffee shop.”

“Why didn’t you skip it?”

“Oh, no. It’s a mandatory stop. I need caffeine to function, and if I don’t get my boss coffee, she’s impossible to deal with for the rest of the day. Trust me.”

His lips twitched. “You mentioned something about her right after you’d been shot. The meanest boss in the world?”

“Oh, yes. Ask Norah. She knows.”

“She’s Satan’s mistress,” chimed in Norah. “Pure evil. She makes poor Chloe’s life into a living nightmare, and, on top of everything else…”

I sent her a silencing look, but Nico caught Norah’s comment. “Everything else?”

I twisted my hands together, wishing the elevator would come a little faster. “My parents were in a car accident a few years ago. My mother…” To my surprise, a huge lump formed in my throat. I hadn’t cried over her since the funeral. I blinked away the tears and continued. “She died.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded sincere, dang it, and tears flooded my eyes again. Not cool.

I took a deep breath through my nose, calming myself down. “So I was late, rushing to work, saw the gun, jumped on the prince, got shot in the bum. End of story.”

“He was behind you. How did you see the gun?”

“Excuse me?”

“Judging by the police report after they recreated the scene of the crime, the gunman stood at least ten feet behind you. How is it even possible you saw his gun? Do you have eyes in the back of your head, or some magical power we know nothing about?”

I blinked, not sure how to answer, and decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Someone jostled me from behind as I stepped onto the street. It made me spill coffee onto my coat. It was white cashmere, not easy to clean, and I didn’t have time to go home and change it. I turned, planning to give the person who bumped into me a piece of my mind, and that’s when I saw it.”

“But you didn’t see who was carrying it?”

I blew out a breath. “No. It happened so fast. I don’t think I ever saw the man, or his face. Only the gun.”

“What did it look like?” I stared at him, confused. He growled a bit in frustration. “The gun. What type of gun was it, Ms. Burkhart?”

We were back to Ms. Burkhart again? Interesting. “Well, Mr. Mercia, it was a black gun.”

“A black gun?” he asked. “Are you serious? That’s all you can give me?”

“Yes,” I said, as the elevator finally arrived at the ground floor with a gasp and a groan.

“But I don’t understand….” began Nico.

Norah came to my rescue, ushering me into the elevator. “Can’t you see she’s exhausted? Stop the interrogation now. Please. For goodness sake, Nico, she can barely stand.”

It was true. I did feel a bit vertically challenged at the moment. Nico watched me as I wobbled slightly on my feet, ready to collapse. When he lifted me into his strong arms, I didn’t protest. Instead I leaned my head against his shoulder and looped my arms around his neck, once again oddly comforted by his strength. Even though he didn’t believe my story, I trusted him. I knew instinctively he’d protect me against anything or anyone who wanted to do me harm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You’ve had a taxing day. I shouldn’t have pressed you. But we will have to talk eventually, Chloe. I have questions, and I need answers.”

I let out a yawn. “I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be a blast. Make sure you bring handcuffs. No good torture session is complete without them.”

Norah chuckled, but Nico did not look amused. He carried me to the door of my apartment and put me down gently onto my feet. He didn’t ask to come in. He stared down at me for a long moment, his hands still on my arms and face close to mine.

He smelled delicious, a combination of the expensive wool from his suit, the subtle hint of his cologne, and a scent purely his own. Something mysterious and manly which made my knees go weak. I wanted to lean a bit closer just to inhale him, but I held myself back.

As I stared at him, his eyes darkened, growing even more alluring in the dim light of the hallway. Maybe he wasn’t completely unaffected by me either. Was it a touch of lust I saw gleaming in the depths of his brown eyes, or was I imagining things?

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I am not going to torture you. Much. And I only bring out the handcuffs for special occasions.” His voice was deeper than usual, and had a raspy huskiness that made my toes curl. Before I could figure out what the heck was up with my responses to Nico Mercia, he nodded to the guard who stood by my door and walked away.

I watched him go. “Did he make a joke?”

Norah nodded. “I think he did.”

“Did it have a vaguely sexual undertone, or did I take one too many painkillers today?”

“Oh, yes. It most certainly did. Maybe you should have chosen something other than handcuffs to make your point, Chloe. Thumbscrews. The rack. Impalement. Although, impalement sounds kind of sexual as well.”

As I stepped into my apartment with Norah and shut the door firmly behind me, I had to wonder again if I’d gotten myself into something I wasn’t prepared to handle. Both the mild zing of attraction I felt for the prince, and the strong visceral reaction I had to Nico were unexpected and unwelcome. They were difficulties I didn’t need, and, even if both men were incredibly delectable, they were complications I didn’t want as well.

~

The next few days progressed with a series of television interviews and guest appearances. My body healed, I got my stitches out, and I started to feel more like myself, although different. I kept the winsome smile on my face, and blushed when someone called me a hero or praised my actions, but the redness in my cheeks did not come from modesty or shyness. It came from shame. A deep, gut wrenching shame. No matter how good or honorable my reason might be for doing this, it was still wrong. Absolutely and incredibly wrong.

The prince bought me the cup of black coffee he owed me, grinning at the cameras as he handed it to me. “And here it is,” he said gallantly. “Is there anything else you require? A scone perhaps?”

“Nope. We’re even,” I said, lifting my cup, and the crowd assembled outside the coffee shop cheered.

The barista who’d served me the day of the shooting clapped louder than anyone, tears in her eyes. As we were about to get into the car, she touched my arm. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m pregnant. If it’s a little girl, I’m naming her after you.”

I slipped into the waiting limo, stunned. She was naming her child after me? A wave of nausea came over me so strong I had to close my eyes. What if the truth came out and she found out I wasn’t a hero, but a liar? How could I let her name her baby after me? It wasn’t right.

Nico climbed into the seat next to me. The prince had a meeting to attend, so Nico was in charge of getting me home safely. Lucky me. He gave me an odd look as we pulled into traffic.

“Another successful appearance by the media sensation, Chloe Burkhart, and yet you look…distraught. Care to explain?”

I shook my head. “It brought up memories of that day. Seeing the shop, the girl who served me coffee ….” The girl who planned to name her first-born child after the biggest liar in New York City. I let out a tremulous breath. “It’s disconcerting.”

“It must be hard for you.” His dark eyes held something in them which may have been compassion, but I could have been mistaken. His next question threw me off guard. “What color coat did he have on?”

I blinked in surprise. “Who?”

“The man who shot the prince.”

I hugged my arms around my body tightly, my gaze going to the window. “I told you. I can’t remember.”

He shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough. The police have video taken by street cameras the day of the shooting. I plan to pick them up right after I drop you off.”

The nausea got worse. As soon as the limo pulled up in front of my building, I jumped out of the car, not waiting for Nico or the driver to open the door for me, and rushed into the lobby. Nico followed close at my heels.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, grabbing my arm.

“Nothing,” I said, trying to control my heaving stomach as I jammed my finger into the elevator button. I needed to get into my apartment now. I did not want to puke in the lobby.

“Pushing it over and over again won’t make it go any faster.”

Nico leaned against the wall near the elevator door, looking both incredibly sexy and incredibly lethal at the same time. Maybe the lethal part made him even sexier. I couldn’t be certain. But he was definitely hot. Even in my about-to-puke state, I could appreciate his hotness, and it made me even more determined not to be ill in front of him.

“Sarcasm. Not appreciated.”

I could no long form complete sentences. It was that bad.

He continued, oblivious to my distress. “Sarcasm? I consider it a factual statement. Do you know what else is a factual statement?” He paused, studying my face, his brow furrowed. “Your story doesn’t add up. It doesn’t make sense.”

“What part of it doesn’t make sense? The part where I saved the prince, or the part where I got shot? Because both of those are pretty factual statements, too.”

“Maybe things are not what they seem.”

“Maybe you’re looking to blame someone because you didn’t do your job.”

As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. His eyes grew cold and hard, like two pieces of black onyx. Oh, brother. What had I done? The last thing I needed was to make an enemy of Nico Mercia. I turned away from him, willing the elevator to move faster. He leaned close, so close I felt the warmth of his breath as he whispered in my ear.

“I’ll figure this out. I swear it. And when I do, everyone will know the truth….about what happened, and about you.”

The doors of the elevator opened, but it was too late. Before I could stop myself I threw up all over Nico’s custom-made Italian leather shoes.

“Oh, gosh,” I said between heaves. “I’m so sorry.”

Nico, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He didn’t even step away. After the worst of it had passed, he took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed my face. At some point, I’d begun crying hysterically, but he handled it like a boss.

“There, there,” he said. “No need to cry. You’re alright now.”

The nicer he acted, the harder I cried. “Stop,” I said. “You’re making it worse.”

He held up his hands, befuddled. “How am I making it worse?

“You’re being kind. I can handle it when you’re crabby. I can handle it when you growl at me. I can’t handle it when you’re sweet and gentle. It’s…just…too…much.”

I now had the hiccups, on top of everything else. Great.

Nico’s lips twitched. “I shall endeavor not to be sweet ever again. I’ve never been called ‘sweet’ before, so it shouldn’t be terribly difficult.”

He was trying not to laugh, the jerk. He called the building supervisor to clean up the mess, led me into the elevator, and pressed the button for my floor. As I struggled to compose myself, I looked down at his shoes and winced. They were a complete mess.

“I can’t believe I threw up on your shoes.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “They’ve been through worse. Trust me. You should have told me you were feeling unwell. I wouldn’t have pressed you like I did if I’d known, but you have understand, Chloe. I need to figure this out.”

“I know.” I took a deep breath. “I’m also sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it. You’re great at your job.”

He raised one dark eyebrow at me. “And how would you know?”

“I’ve watched you. Alex trusts you completely. That kind of trust isn’t just given to anyone. It has to be earned.” The doors opened to my floor and I stepped out. I didn’t expect Nico to follow me to my apartment. “What are you doing?”

“Earning your trust. You have refused to let me come into your apartment and meet your family. I thought it was because you were a society snob, too precious to allow a servant into your private quarters, but, as I’ve gotten to know you better, I’ve begun to suspect it’s something different.”

My fingers rested on the doorknob, but I wasn’t ready to open it yet. “And what do you suspect exactly?”

His voice grew soft. “I think you have a secret, and I want you to share it with me. I want you to trust me. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. Also, I want to clean my shoes. They smell kind of funky. So what do you think? Will you let me come in?”

The man guarding our apartment stood off to the side, giving us privacy. Nico leaned against the wall near the door, his black hair falling across his forehead, looking desirable and perfect in spite of his dirty shoes.

I knew I was making yet another terrible mistake, but I couldn’t help it. I opened the door and let Nicolai Mercia into our apartment, and into our lives. The first stranger to walk through our door in three long years.

Looking at the empty vast, darkness from someone else’s perspective was difficult for me. It was late afternoon, but all the doors to the inner rooms of the apartment were closed, and the light in the spacious foyer didn’t work. I turned on a little lamp we had off to the side and waited for his reaction.

What did Nico see, exactly? Did he notice the bare spots on the walls where expensive artwork once hung? Could he tell the remaining bits of furniture consisted only of things too broken or rickety to sell or pawn? Would he be able to understand this had once been a home, a place filled with light, laughter, and love?

Probably not. I expected to find a look of pity in Nico’s eyes, and knew it might be my undoing. I didn’t have much of anything left. I needed to hold onto whatever dignity remained. But I couldn’t stop myself from looking up and meeting his gaze.

“What happened?” he asked. He didn’t make sympathetic noises or treat me like a charity case. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if he had. Instead, he was matter-of-fact about it, like he visited the remnants of luxury apartments on Park Avenue all the time.

I must have needed to talk, because, before I knew it, the words came tumbling out of my mouth. I told him about the accident, my parents, and the situation we were in right now. I spoke openly, but kept my words as unemotional as possible, simply telling him the facts. It felt good to open up, like a dam had burst inside me, and he listened, nodding, until I finished.

“I’ve seen this happen before, in Europe,” he said. “There are many castles which look exactly like this, often for similar reasons. But explain one thing to me. Why live here when it’s obviously so expensive to maintain? Why not move somewhere else?”

“Two reasons. My father and my little sister, Ella. I’m not sure what would happen to my father if we moved. He’s barely surviving as it is. Because of the money I got from the interview with Dirk, I was able to pay for a therapist to come here once a week and work with him. I think it’s already helping.”

“And your sister?”

“She’s already lost so much. Her mother. Her father. Yes, he’s still alive, but he isn’t able to parent her, not even a little. Many of her friends disappeared as soon as our fortune did. This is the only home she’s ever known. How can I take that away from her?”

“Even if it means putting yourself into a hopelessly difficult situation?”

“It’s not hopeless anymore,” I said, giving him a wobbly smile. “I could not have been shot saving a prince at a better time. Mystery solved?”

To my surprise, he shook his head. “Not quite. I want to meet your father, and Ella.”

“Oh. Lovely. Well, my father is an absolute joy. Very easy to talk to. The only problem is he won’t answer you back. Minor detail, right? He’s been living like this, in a nearly catatonic state, for the last three years. The good news is, he’s easy to find because he never moves. He’s in that room,” I said, pointing to the door of the main living room of the apartment. “He does nothing but sit and stare out the window. He hasn’t spoken more than a few words since mother died.”

“And your sister?”

I looked at my watch. “She’ll be here soon. You can meet her, I guess, but I’ll have to feed her first. I hope you don’t mind. She’s always starving when she gets home. I’ll make her a sandwich right now.”

I turned to go toward the kitchen, but he stopped me. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we order some food in, my treat, and have dinner all together?”

I let out a laugh with no humor in it at all. “Like one big happy family?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’d enjoy it. I rarely have time to do things like this.”

I blew out a breath. “I don’t want your pity, Nico, or your charity. You don’t have to pay for our dinner, and you don’t have to be nice to me because you found out I’m poor.”

“I’m not being nice. I’m being nosy. I’m trying to understand you, and every time I think I do, you throw me for a loop. I’d like to have dinner with your family, and you owe me one. You got sick on my shoes. Speaking of which, may I use your bathroom so I can clean them off?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, cocking my finger and indicating he should give them to me. “The Burkharts always clean up their own messes.”

He took off his shoes and handed them over. “Good to know.”

~

Ella burst through the door right after the Chinese food arrived. We ordered from her favorite place, Chen’s, and she nearly bounced up and down with excitement as soon as she smelled the delicious aroma of garlic beef, green curry shrimp, and sesame chicken.

She shook Nico’s hand, perfectly comfortable with the fact he was in our apartment and about to have dinner with us. My father seemed okay with it, too. I’d introduced Nico to him right before Ella got home. To my surprise, he nodded and said, “Nice to meet you,” before his attention went back to the window again.

“I thought you said he didn’t talk,” said Nico.

“He doesn’t.” I had to blink away tears. “Can the therapy be working this quickly?”

Nico shrugged his broad shoulders. “I have no idea, but I think it’s a good sign. Don’t you?”

I nodded, and rushed off to the kitchen to get plates and silverware. I bypassed the daily use stuff, and went instead for the most elegant dishes we owned, the Waterford china with an intricate gold lace pattern around the edges. They’d been a wedding gift for my parents from Grandma and Grandpa Burkhart, and had a golden “B” in the middle of each plate. Father smiled when he saw them, tracing the “B” with his finger, and managed to converse a bit with Nico during dinner. Nico did most of the talking, of course, telling us about Latovia, and his childhood spent in England, but when he asked Father if he’d ever been to London, he actually got an answer.

“Yes,” he said. “Many times.”

Ella and I stared at him in shock. Those three words were more than we’d heard come out of his mouth in months. I ducked my head, not wanting to ruin the moment, and terrified I might burst into tears. Nico, sitting next to me reached under the table and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I looked up at him, unable to contain the grateful smile on my face.

“Thank you.” I mouthed the words to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said back, but didn’t let go of my hand immediately. Instead, he caressed it with his thumb and stared deeply into my eyes, before finally letting it go. Ella asked a question about Corossa, the capital city of Latovia, and the spell was broken, but it took a solid five minutes for my heart rate to return to normal.

Holy cow. If Nico could do that to me with a simple touch of his hand, how would it feel to kiss him? To hold his big body in my arms and let myself be enveloped in his warmth?

I was still thinking about it as we said our goodbyes in the dismal foyer. It made me act oddly nervous around him. “Thank you for dinner,” I said. “And sorry again about your shoes.”

“Warn me the next time you feel car sick, okay?” He gave me a sexy half smile, and the effect it had on me was amazing. A full body, head down to my pinky toes kind of reaction.

“Yeah. Car sick.” I looked down at my toes. I’d changed into a comfy pair of black stretchy pants and a sweater when we’d gotten home, and my feet were bare. We stood next to the door, but I didn’t open it, instead, I stood there, wringing my hands. That was a new thing for me. I’d never been much of a hand wringer before.

“What is it, Chloe?”

Did his voice sound huskier, his accent thicker than usual? I couldn’t tell, but it seemed that way. I looked up at him, sure my emotions were written all over my face.

“Thank you, Nico. For tonight. It meant more than I can ever express…”

My words were cut off when his lips met mine in the sweetest and softest kiss I’d ever imagined. How could someone as big and strong and hard as Nico kiss like this? He made me feel as delicate as the porcelain plates from Grandpa Burkhart, and as valuable.

His large hands cupped my face as the kiss deepened. I covered his hands with mine, stretching on my tiptoes to get closer to him. We broke apart when Ella closed a door from somewhere inside the apartment and called out my name.

“Sissy. Do you know where my new socks are?”

I’d finally gotten her a new uniform, socks and all, and she was setting it out to wear to school tomorrow. “I’ll be right there,” I called out. Nico still stroked my face with his fingers, his eyes on mine. The man was positively hypnotic. He should come with a warning label, Don’t drive or operate heavy machinery after kissing Nicolai Mercia. It could be dangerous.

“Good night, Chloe,” he said, giving me one last brief kiss. “Sleep well.”

After he left, I closed the door and leaned my back against it with a happy sigh. The post-kiss bliss lasted about ten seconds, until I remembered two very important things. First of all, Nico hadn’t been able to pick up the recordings from the police department today, but he would probably do so first thing tomorrow. When he did, when he saw exactly what happened that morning, he would hate me. He’d never buy take out for my family, chat with my father, or charm my little sister ever again. And he definitely wouldn’t kiss me. Not once he knew the truth. He didn’t seem the type to kiss people who were big, fat liars. He was far too noble and way too honorable for something like that. 

And there was another thing, and it was important. I still had to pretend to be dating the prince, his boss. How would it make Nico feel to watch me as I went out with another man? How could I pretend to be interested in Alex, when Nico had kissed me senseless? We were supposed to go out to dinner at Le Charles tomorrow night, one of the nicest restaurants in the city, and I had to flirt with Alex…in front of Nico.

I covered my face with my hands. Gah.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave…I thought to myself, and it was true. One lie had led to another and another and now I was trapped in a mess of my own making.

Even if I wanted to tell Nico the whole truth at this point, I couldn’t. He would hate me. And I could handle a lot, but not his hate. Anything but that.

Sadly, there was no way out. I was well and truly stuck.

~

Le Charles was even better than I remembered. Low lighting, comfortable seating, a fabulous menu, and a gorgeous view of Central Park. Sitting at a table for two with Alex, the Crowned Prince of Latovia, was something most girls could only dream about. Charming, handsome, wealthy, and incredibly nice, Alex covered all the bases without even being a prince. The royalty thing? Icing on an already yummy cake, but I craved something different at the moment. Something dark, decadent, and delicious.

Nico Mercia.

Ever since it he kissed me, I couldn’t think of anything else but doing it again. When he picked me up for my date with the prince, he acted like a total professional

“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Much better,” I said. “And you?”

“I’m very well, thank you. Although we’ve had a bit of a setback. I picked up the tapes from the police today. They weren’t as helpful as I’d hoped. Although we saw the moment you ever-so-gracefully leapt on the prince, we couldn’t get a clear view of the shooter. The tapes are basically worthless.”

I made my face look as serious and as disappointed as possible while internally doing a happy dance. “Oh, that’s too bad,” I said, but heaved a huge sigh of relief. Nico didn’t hate me. Not yet at least.

“Yes, but please don’t be concerned. I’ll catch him eventually. It’s just a matter of time.”

And would he catch me, too? I thought worriedly. Would he figure out the truth? I hoped not, but Nico was as tenacious as he was thorough. He wouldn’t rest until all the questions in his mind were answered, including those involving me.

As he helped me into the limo, he held my hand a bit longer than necessary and gave my arm the briefest of caresses. It made a wave of delightful shivers erupt all over my body.

Alex, already seated inside the limo, didn’t notice. He greeted me with a smile. “Glad to see you’re doing better today, Chloe, and thank you for accompanying me this evening.”

Alex chatted the whole way to the restaurant about the work he’d been doing, especially about building schools in remote villages in Africa. An interesting topic, but not as interesting as staring at the back of Nico’s head. He sat in the front seat of the limo next to the driver, and I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him. I loved the way his dark hair just brushed his collar of his shirt, and the strong set of his broad shoulders. It practically made my mouth water.

He must have sensed my eyes on him. He put down his sun visor, and I caught him staring right back at me in the mirror.

Busted.

He gave me a saucy wink, and I ducked my head, trying not to giggle with pleasure at the way he made me feel. It was unexpected, this thing I had with Nico. It’d come at me out of nowhere. I had no idea what would happen in the future, or how to deal with him in the present, so I chose to go with the flow and enjoy it for what it was—a meaningless flirtation with a beautiful, interesting man. A man who could very well hate me soon, so I might as well make the most of it.

I smoothed the fabric of my emerald silk dress. The color matched my eyes, and the dress fit the curves of my body like it had been made for me. Norah had found it for me, of course, and she’d come to help me get ready before my date.

“What do you think of the prince?” she asked as Ella worked on my makeup.

“He’s nice. Very sweet. And I admire the work his foundation is involved with. It’s pretty amazing.”

“So you aren’t, like, interested in him or anything?”

“No. Why?”

She shrugged, her expression inscrutable. “He’s handsome, hot, and rich, and he seems like a decent human being as well. And he’s smart, too. I mean super smart. Even smarter than Ella maybe.”

“Hey,” said Ella. “Watch it, No-No.”

Norah rolled her eyes. “Not you, too. Why does everyone in your family insist on calling me by that stupid nickname? It’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “So back to the prince, what do you think? Would you do him?”

I gasped. “No. I don’t feel that way for him at all.”

For some reason, Norah looked at bit…relieved? I was about to ask her about it when Ella interrupted my thoughts. “Ask Chloe who she does feel that way about. I think I know the answer.”

“Who?” asked Norah, comprehension dawning in her gaze. “Oh, baby. Does Chloe have a thing for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy? Now that would be interesting. He’s almost as hot as the prince.”

“Hotter,” I said, before I could stop myself, and they both laughed. But I wasn’t laughing as Nico watched me from across the room as I wined and dined with another man. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy didn’t even begin to describe it. He was beyond grumpy now. He was positively brooding.

When I got up to use the restroom, Nico followed me. There were two other security guards in place, watching over the prince, but of course I’d hoped Nico would be the one to escort me. When he put his hand on the small of my back, to lead me down the hallway, it felt delightfully possessive.

“Are you having a nice time?” he asked, his lips close to my ear.

“Yes. Except for the fact I can’t stop thinking of you,” I said. “Would it be bad if I kissed you right here and right now?”

Nico’s eyes darkened, his seductive lips curving in a smile. “Not here,” he said. “But I might know a place. I’d like to kiss you, too.”

He brought me to a cloakroom, dark and deserted, and pulled me inside. Once there, I let out a happy sigh and wrapped my arms around his neck as his lips meant mine.

Tonight, he was playful, exploring my mouth and teasing me with his tongue. But the more we kissed, the hotter it got. Soon, I was panting softly, wanting him closer and running my hands through his silken hair.

“Mmmm….Chloe. I should take you back. You’re on a date. With Alex.”

“I know,” I said. “But I can’t seem to stop kissing you.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “That could be a problem.”

He kissed me deeply, and I was filled with a hunger I’d never experienced before, but thoughts of Alex sitting out there in that big, fancy restaurant all alone made me pull away. “You’re right,” I said, as I kissed my way across his firm jawline. “We need to get back. It’s not fair to Alex.”

As we snuck out of the cloakroom, I giggled at Nico’s appearance. His hair had been thoroughly mussed, and he had bright red lipstick on his collar. I was about to tell him as much when a man walked past us wearing a long, black coat. I caught of whiff of him, an aroma of sweat, body odor, and something else, a minty sort of smell, and recognized it immediately. I’d smelled the same thing the day I’d gotten shot, and I recognized the coat as well. I grabbed Nico by the arm.

“It’s him,” I said. “The shooter.”

Nico, who’d been a bit dazed by our passionate kissing, snapped to attention. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

The assassin was headed right for the main dining room. Nico swore, and contacted the other guards with the communication device on his wrist before hustling me out the back door of the restaurant.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked.

Nico gave me a curt nod. “They are leaving now. He’s already in the limo.”

He hailed a taxi and we jumped in, taking off down the street. “Why didn’t we just go with Alex?” I asked.

“No time. I couldn’t risk it.”

He spoke again in his communication device, in Latovian, and got an immediate reply. He slammed a fist on his thigh. “The assassin got away. Again. They are bringing the prince to the consulate for the night. He has quarters there. He’ll be safe.”

I stared out the window. We were moving away from my apartment, not toward it. “And where are we going exactly?”

“I don’t think we’re being followed, but the last thing I want to do is lead the shooter to your father and your sister. I’m bringing you somewhere else instead.”

I swallowed hard. “Are they in danger?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m being extra cautious.”

I reached for his hand. “Thank you, Nico.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s because of us you’re in this mess. It’s the least we can do.”

Nico led the taxi driver in what felt like circles, and, nearly an hour later, we stopped in front on a ritzy looking apartment building near Gramercy Park. Nico paid the confused cabbie and led me quickly into the building.

The apartment was a penthouse, with views of the park and a gorgeous balcony. As soon as we got inside, Nico loosened his tie and got on his cell phone, speaking quietly in Latovian. I wandered around the apartment, appreciating the sleek, modern elegance of the interior and the expensive artwork. When he got off the phone, his expression was grim.

“They spotted the shooter. He was close to the prince’s hotel, but he managed to evade them once again,” he said, with a frustrated sigh.

“I’m sorry, Nico.”

“It isn’t all bad news,” he said. “We finally have a definite ID on the shooter. His name is Sergei Paloka. He’s a known dissenter, and dangerous, tied to quite a few militant groups, but not a professional assassin. Which is why Alex isn’t already dead.”

The thought of Alex dying made my heart ache. Although I’d only known him a short time, he’d become a friend. “What happens after tonight?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll have to reevaluate in the morning. I prefer he stay at the consulate, but Alex can be rather pigheaded about it. Do you know I caught him sneaking out just the other night? The man is impossible.” He shook his head. “And I hate hotels. They are so hard to manage. Too many people coming in and out. Too many employees. At least, he’s safe for the night, and so are you.”

I shivered, partly from the cold, and partly from fear. Nico lit a fire in the marble fireplace, which made me feel a bit better. He sat down on the black leather couch and pulled me close. I curled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Nico. I know this is hard for you.”

He kissed the top of my head. “If it weren’t for you, the prince might be dead right now. This is the second time you’ve saved his life, Chloe. I’m so happy you recognized the shooter. How did it happen?”

“Well, it was his smell.”

“His smell?”

I nodded. “He had a distinctive odor. I recognized it because I’d been next to him before the light changed at the crosswalk, the day I got shot. Body odor and mint. I remembered the smell and the black overcoat, but it didn’t click for me until he walked past us in the restaurant.”

Nico threaded my fingers with his. “Sometimes it’s like that. Memory is a multi-sensory experience. You may not have remembered what the shooter looked like, but his smell was buried somewhere deep inside your mind. When you smelled him, it brought it all back.”

“Maybe.”

Except for the little fact I’d never actually seen the shooter or the gun. I’d made it up. Not that I could tell Nico. 

“We’ll have to stay here for the night. I hope you don’t mind. It’s safer this way.”

“Is this your apartment?”

“Yes. I’m in New York quite often for business. It helps to have a place of my own here.”

When Nico went to another room make a few phone calls, I called Ella to let her know I wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. “Keep the doors locked, okay? And be careful.”

“I will,” she said. “Are you alright? You sound…weird.”

“I’m always weird. Love you. Goodnight.”

Nico came back, his jacket gone and the top buttons of his shirt undone. In the firelight he looked like a dark angel or a warrior of old. He had just the right combination of beauty and arrogance in his features. He could have pulled either one off. He ran a hand through his hair, the stress of the day apparent on his face and the stiffness of his broad shoulders.

“Everyone is fine, for now, so I suggest we get some sleep. I’ll bring you back to your apartment first thing in the morning. Would you be okay with that?”

“Of course.”

He handed me a soft t-shirt and a pair of sweats, both of which would be enormously large for me. “You can have my room,” he said, indicating a door on the left. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I nodded, but halfway to his room, I stopped. “No,” I said, and slowly turned around.

He looked confused. “No? To what?”

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch. I want you to sleep in your bed. With me.” My cheeks burned, and it was hard to look him in the eye, but I forced myself. “I got shot last week. That was traumatic enough. Then I came within inches of the man who shot me tonight. We both could have died, either time. I don’t want to take a chance. If we die tomorrow, I want this to be one thing I don’t regret….that I slept with you tonight.”

He grew very still, the light from the fire dancing on his harshly beautiful face. “Are you certain, Chloe? Is this really what you want?”

I nodded. “I’m sure. Of this, and of you.”

I’d never done anything like this before, and doubted I’d ever do something like this again, but tonight it felt so…right. Nico seemed to agree. In a few long strides, he crossed the distance between us and pulled me into his arms.

Making love with Nico Mercia was unlike anything I’d ever known. I hadn’t slept with many men, but enough to understand he was different. It was like drinking Dom Perignon. Once you’ve had it, it’s awfully hard to go back to drinking cheap champagne. Nico was the Dom Perignon of lovers, all I’d ever wanted, and more.

He knew exactly where to touch me, exactly how to whisper in my ear. He kissed every inch of my body, paying special attention to the healing scar on my bottom. And I learned how to please him as well, to make his accent sound thicker with passion and to make him lose control.

When we came together, in a blur of heat, longing, and hunger, something inside me shifted and changed. I wasn’t the same person anymore. I was marked, forever, as the property of Nicolai Mercia, a man I’d only known a few short days. And, as I fell asleep wrapped in his strong arms, he said the words I needed to hear.

“I never want to let you go. I want to hold you like this forever.”

I put my hand on his cheek, stared deep into his eyes, and whispered back to him. “That’s what I want, too.”

~

The next morning I woke up in post-coitus induced bliss, a happy kind of tired. Nico had loved me well last night. Just the thought of it made a slow, satisfied smile curl across my lips.

Nico stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel, his hair still damp from the shower. When he saw me watching him, he gave me a sexy, knowing kind of grin.

“Good morning, Chloe. Did you sleep well?”

I loved how he pronounced my name, in the French way. It made chills go over my skin, like a verbal caress.

I sat up, holding the sheet close to my breasts. “Oh, yes. Better than I have in a long time.”

He leaned over and kissed me, tasting of toothpaste and smelling like soap and pure unfiltered man, “Stay here,” he said against my lips. “I made you coffee.”

I rested against the pillows, a stupid happy smile on my face, waiting for him. When he brought in a tray containing coffee, toast, jam, and the morning paper, I gazed up at him adoringly. “You brought me coffee, you wonderful, perfect man.”

“And it’s black. The way you like it.”

I sat and sipped my coffee, watching him get dressed. He had the most beautiful body, all lean muscle and perfect lines. I could look at it all day. His eyes darkened when he noticed me staring at him, and he gave me a grin full of sexual promise, but he didn’t have time to play this morning. He sat next to me on the bed, his hand cupping my jaw as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

“I hate to leave you like this, naked and adorable in my bed, but I have to make a few calls. I want to check on Alex.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” I said with a smile.

His grin deepened, and his voice grew husky, making me feel warm all over. “I’ll be right back.”

He kissed my forehead and stepped out of the bedroom. I picked up the paper, feeling happier than I had in a very long time, but my heart slammed to a stop in my chest when I read the headline.

Poor Little Rich Girl. The True Story of Chloe Burkhart, the Cinderella of Park Avenue.

My entire life had been laid bare on the pages of the New York Times. The sale of Burkhart Books, the accident, my mother’s death, my father’s disability. They even talked about my terrible job at Wilson Publishing and my struggles to help my sister. The reporter hadn’t missed a single detail.

My hands shook by the time I finished. Someone had ratted on me. Someone I’d trusted. My circle of confidants had grown smaller and smaller in the last three years, so it wasn’t difficult to name a culprit. I knew exactly who’d done it.

When Nico came back into the room, I was already dressed. He looked at me in confusion. Gone was the sleepy, love-struck girl he’d kissed nearly senseless. In her place was a bitter, angry, desperately disappointed woman.

“Chloe. What’s wrong? What happened?”

I threw the newspaper at him. “This happened. How could you, Nico? I let you into our lives, and you betrayed us.”

He stared at the newspaper, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I trusted you before, but I won’t make the same mistake again. Goodbye and good riddance.”

I tried to march out of the apartment, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm. “You can’t go out on your own. It’s too dangerous.”

I wrenched my arm free. “I’m not afraid of Sergei Paloka, because now I know what’s really dangerous. Falling for a jerk like you.”

~

A second interview with Dirk Deacon took place the following day at the TV station. It was supposed to be a fun, light follow up to our previous discussion, but I felt far from fun or light at the moment. Alex sat next to me, his blue eyes filled with concern. Nico was nowhere to be seen. Other security guys were taking care of Alex today.

I scowled. I guessed Nico had accomplished what he’d hoped for by ratting me out to the press. More publicity for Alex’s foundation. Yippee. Now he’d gone on his merry way, the slime bucket.

“I heard about what happened,” said Alex, his voice soft. “Nico called me. He’s distraught.”

“Distraught?” I had to keep a super fake smile plastered on my face so no one else in the room would know what we were discussing. “Tell me, Alex, were you in on it, too or was it only him?”

Alex reached out to touch my arm. It took everything in me not to jerk away from him. “Chloe. You have to believe me. There’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”

I almost burst out laughing. Not a happy laugh. A crazy, woman-on-the-edge kind of cackle. “You’re right. There has been. I should have known better. I was a complete and utter idiot.”

Alex looked like he wanted to say something else, but Dirk arrived, interrupting him. Norah sat in the corner, head bowed, and her eyes on her clipboard. She looked exhausted, but she’d prepped me well this morning, wiping away my tears and convincing me to be honest about my family’s situation.

“It’s the only way to go, honey. It’s not like you did anything wrong. None of it was your fault.”

I’d known Norah for years, enough to suspect there was something she didn’t want to tell me. “What is it? I know there’s something else. I can see it in your eyes.”

She frowned. “I have no idea what you are referring to, young lady.”

“Yes, you do. And you always call me ‘young lady’ when you’re hiding something.”

“I do not.”

I gave her my best no nonsense look. “Do you remember the night you slept with Jake Jones in high school? And you didn’t want to tell me because you knew I wouldn’t approve?”

“Yes,” she said. “You had an unreasonable hatred for lacrosse players. I thought it for the best that you didn’t know.”

“But I did know because I know you. Better than anyone. Fess up, Norah. Who have you slept with now? And if you say Bill from accounting, I’ll slap you upside the head.”

She chortled. Bill had been hitting on her for months, as well as on everyone else at Wilson Publishing in a skirt. “It’s not Bill. Ew. I’ll tell you all about it later. Promise. But first we need to get you ready for this interview. I have to say, I don’t necessarily think this newspaper article is a bad thing. I know how psycho you are about privacy, but so far the reaction to this has been nothing but a huge outpouring of sympathy. I looked up at the numbers. Your approval rating is actually up.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “I have an approval rating?”

“Yes, you do,” she said. “It goes up every single time you give an interview, or you’re seen with the prince. And I have more good news. After the article appeared in the paper, Burkhart Books sent you a contract. A really lovely six-figure kind of contract. They want to publish your life story, and they want you to write it.”

“Me? How do they even know I can write?”

“I sent samples of some of the papers you wrote in college. You’re good. They know it.”

I rolled my eyes. “You really are an evil genius.”

“I am, and you have to trust me on this. Getting shot might have been the best thing that ever happened to you, but that article was probably the second best. I know you hate it, but it’s true. And the more honest you are about everything you’ve been through, the better it will be.”

I agreed with her, but it was hard to open up about things I’d kept secret for so long. The person I worried most about was Ella. Everyone at her ritzy, exclusive school now knew she was basically a charity case. It made my blood boil. I wondered if the people watching me get interviewed would be able to see how angry I felt at the moment. If so, that could ruin everything. As I waited for Dirk to speak, I started wringing my hands again, and silently chastised myself. What was next? Swooning? I was turning into a character in a regency romance novel.

“Ms. Burkhart, I’d planned to ask you about the shooting,” said Dirk, “but in light of what has just come out in the paper, is there anything you would like to say to our viewers?”

I let out a long breath and met his intense gaze directly. There was no going back now. I had no choice. I’d reached the point of no return.

“Yes, Dirk. I’d like to say that each and every word in that article is completely true.”

“All of it?” Dirk shook his head. I guess he’d expected something different, like an attempted cover up. “It’s so hard to fathom. One of the wealthiest families in New York, reduced to this. How does it feel?”

“To be poor?” I asked, looking up to the ceiling and blinking away an unexpected wave of tears. “Oh, it’s awful. Trust me. I spend most of my day sick with worry. I worry about how I’ll take care of my dad and my little sister, and about the apartment, which needs repairs I can’t afford. I worry about…everything. I worry so much it’s hard to sleep. Sometimes I feel like there’s no way out, but I have to wake up and keep moving.”

Alex reached out and touched my hand. “I had no idea, Chloe. You are so brave.”

I gave him a sad smile. “What else can I do? Crawl into a corner and weep? No, thank you.”

One of the cameramen, a tough looking man in a black t-shirt, wiped away a tear. Even Dirk seemed to be affected by my words. “You are amazing. We fell in love with you because you saved the prince, and now this…” Dirk got choked up. I couldn’t believe his was happening. First, I’d been a hero because people thought I’d selflessly taken a bullet for Alex. Now they thought I was a hero simply for taking care of my family. Wouldn’t anyone else do the same? It didn’t seem particularly heroic to me, but when Dirk finally managed to finish his sentence, he had real tears in his eyes. “I can’t imagine anything worse than what you’ve lived through.”

“I can.” I hugged my arms around my torso, holding myself tightly so I wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces and embarrass myself on national TV. “Do you know what’s worse than losing your mother, watching your father disappear slowly, and finding out you have absolutely no money, no help, and more debts than you can possibly imagine?”

“What?” asked Dirk.

“Finding out someone you trusted, someone you cared about, someone you actually may have even loved, betrayed you. It truly destroys what’s left of a person’s heart.” I’d started going off script. This wasn’t what Norah and I had planned, but I couldn’t stop myself. I stared right at the camera, wanting to speak directly to Nico. Wanting to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me. “What hurts the most is when you think you’ve finally found what you’ve been looking for, something extraordinary, and you discover it’s all nothing but a lie.”

“Stop,” said a voice from the darkness behind the cameras. “Stop it now, Chloe.”

I held up my hand to shield my eyes from the light as I tried to see who was talking. “Ella?”

Ella stepped forward, wringing her hands as tears streamed down her face. She was wringing her hands, too? Dear heavens. We’d turned into the Brönte sisters.

Dirk waved Ella over, offering her a seat on the couch next to me. “This is your little sister?”

I nodded. “Yes, and she’s supposed to be at school. Why aren’t you at school, Ella?”

She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “I had to come here. I had to tell you what I did. It was me. I called the newspaper. I told them about our family. I thought I was h-h-h-helping. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was so sick and tired of lying about it all the time, pretending our lives were okay at home. I thought you were sick of it, too. I didn’t know how mad you would get. I didn’t know it would ruin everything.”

“Baby,” I said, pushing her hair away from her face. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Yes, I did. Nico was perfect for you, and I messed it up.”

“Um, who is Nico? I thought you and the prince were dating…” Dirk looked back and forth between us, trying to figure out what was going on. He’d lost control of the entire interview, poor guy.

Alex straightened his jacket. “We were never dating. It was all a ruse. A deception.”

I looked at him in shock. Was he about to spill the beans? It could ruin all the good work he’d done, with his foundation and with building all those libraries for poor children. I couldn’t let him do it. I just couldn’t.

At that moment, Nico burst into the room. The camera guys shushed him, but he ignored them, his jaw tight and his eyes darting back at forth. A man on the edge. He probably thought I was about to ruin the prince’s reputation, but I had another plan in mind. I’d been living a lie for so long, I no longer recognized the truth anymore. It had taken Ella’s confession and her tears to make me understand, and I finally knew exactly what I had to do. It was time to come clean.

“I lied,” I said, staring directly at Nico. “About everything.”

Nico stared at me, confused, his brow furrowed in a frown. I wished more than anything I didn’t have to do this. Now that I knew Nico had not called the papers, there was a chance we could pick up where we’d left off. A small chance, but still a chance. By telling the truth right now, though, I knew I’d destroy any hope we had of being together, but I had no choice.

Alex watched my face closely. “What do you mean, Chloe?” he asked.

I turned to him, embarrassed and ashamed at what I’d done. “You’re a good, decent, and honorable man, Alex, but I didn’t mean to save your life. I tripped crossing the street and fell into you. It was totally on accident.”

“Why did you lie about it?” he asked. “What purpose would it serve?”

Ella answered for me. “You did it for us.” she asked, her voice soft and her green eyes huge in her face. “For me and for Daddy, so I’d have enough to eat and he could have the therapy he needed.”

I nodded. “And so I could buy you a school uniform which actually fits.” I gave her jacket a playful tug. “I’m sorry I lied, but I’m sorry I lied to you most of all, Ella. We’re stronger together, aren’t we?”

“Always,” she said, giving me a hug.

There was a moment of dead silence, and then slowly, one by one, the people in the room clapped. It was unexpected. A standing ovation for being a liar and a cheat.

One person did not seem as quick to forgive as the others. Nico looked furious, his eyes as hard and cold as stone.

“I know some people thought I wanted my fifteen minutes of fame, but that wasn’t true. I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. I knew it was wrong. I did it to help my family, but if I’d known the other damage it would cause….” I shook my head sadly, pleading Nico with my eyes to forgive me. “I never would have done it. I swear.”

Dirk stared at me in astonishment. “Ms. Burkhart, what a brave thing to do. To come out publically and admit you’ve done something wrong,” he shook his head. “Frankly speaking, it’s amazing.”

I stared at him, shocked. “Amazing?”

“I concur,” said Alex.

I stared at him in shock. “You don’t hate me for what I did?”

He shook his head. “You saved my life. Whether it was by accident or on purpose, you’ll always be a hero in my book. And I lied, too.” He turned and faced the cameras directly. “I’ve let everyone think I was involved with Chloe, but that isn’t true. She’s a lovely, wonderful girl, but I’m afraid I’ve fallen head over heels in love with someone else. Chloe’s best friend. Norah Knowles.”

Norah, who’d been holding her clipboard in front of her face, slowly lowered it. She looked like she might turn around and bolt from the room. This had been what she’d been hiding for me? Well, it was better than dating that lacrosse player, or Bill from accounting.

If I hadn’t been so upset at the moment, I might have laughed. Alex and Norah were actually quite perfect for each other, but I’d been too wrapped up in my own problems to see it before.

“Norah, come up here please,” said Alex, and she shook her head vehemently. He smiled at her. “If you don’t, I shall drag you up here myself.”

Norah walked to the stage, and I could tell she was swearing under her breath. It was probably a good thing she didn’t have a microphone on. She’d have to work on her cursing now that she was dating the prince. When her eyes met mine, I thought she might cry. “I’m so sorry, Chloe,” she said quietly, her back to the cameras.

I pulled her into a hug. “There is nothing to be sorry about, No-No. I’m happy…for both of you.”

As Norah moved to sit near Alex, my eyes searched for Nico in the crowd. He stood off to one side, shaking his head in disbelief. I understood how he felt. There had been quite a few revelations in the last ten minutes or so, but there was more I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, and that I loved him, and that last night had been the best night of my whole life. Before I could say anything, however, a man stepped out from the shadows next to Nico. He had a beard and glasses, and I couldn’t figure out why he seemed so familiar to me until I caught of whiff of something strange. Body odor and mint.

Nico must have smelled it at exactly the same moment, because his eyes widened in shock. I screamed his name just as Sergei Paloka took a gun out from inside his jacket and raised it toward Alex’s heart.

~

If I’d had time to think things through, I don’t know that I would have jumped in front of Alex, saving his life. It was an instinctual reaction, not something planned out and calculated. It turns out what I’d said as a lie in my first interview with Dirk had been the absolute truth. I couldn’t watch an innocent man get shot and not do anything about it. But I didn’t plan to get shot again myself.

Twice in two weeks. It must be a new record.

Nico was the first one to reach me. He gathered me into his strong arms, assessing the damaging as he dabbed at the wound on my forehead with a handkerchief. “Chloe. Please be okay. Please don’t be hurt,” he said as he used his handkerchief to apply pressure to my temple.

I tried to answer him but couldn’t because Ella and Norah were both next to me, crying hysterically. Alex was there, too. His security team tried to hustle him into the back room, but he refused to go.

“I won’t leave her,” he said. “So back off. Now.”

I squeezed Nico’s hand. “Sergei Paloka? Did you get him?”

He nodded, his face pale and his expression grim. “He’ll never bother us again. I promise.”

My head burned when the bullet had struck me, and it hurt. I could feel blood running down the back of my neck, ruining the blue Dior dress I’d borrowed from Norah. Dang it. I should have chosen a black one. The color would have hidden the bloodstains better.

“Nico. There is something I need to say to you.”

“Stop talking, my darling. Save your strength.”

“No. It’s important. Yesterday, I told you if I died today, I didn’t want to have any regrets. Well, I don’t. I’m glad last night happened. I only wish we could have had more time together.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ll have plenty of time together. I promise you. The bullet barely grazed your temple.”

I frowned at him. “Are you sure?”

He pushed the hair from my forehead and looked deeply into my eyes. “You’re fine. Completely and absolutely fine. You’re bleeding a lot because you’re a redhead, and because head wounds are notorious for it. But, there is something I must tell you, too.”

“What?”

“Chloe Burkhart, I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you.” He kissed my cheek, so softly, so sweetly, it brought tears to my eyes.

“When I got shot in the butt?”

He laughed, and I could feel the vibration of it from somewhere deep inside his chest. “It was a few minutes later. In the ambulance, when you apologized for being cranky, you crazy, beautiful, impossibly brave, and very stupid girl.”

I scowled at him. “I’m not stupid.”

He gave me a little smile. “I just said that to see if you were paying attention.”

“Is she going to be okay?” asked Ella, sniffling. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, unable to take his eyes from my face. “She’s going to be fine. It looks a lot worse than it is. She can’t seem to help herself. First getting shot in the middle of the street, and now in front of the national news. Always playing the hero. It’s so annoying.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Nico. You’re the one who’s annoying.”

And he did, until my toes curled and I felt a little dizzy. It could have been caused by the blood loss, but I suspected it was all Nico.

Dirk Deacon sat off to the side, his face pale. “Ladies and gentlemen. This is Dirk Deacon reporting.” He ran a trembling hand through his perfectly coiffed blond hair. “Holy heck. Did you guys see that? She saved his life…again. Chloe Burkhart. The Cinderella of Park Avenue. The hero of our city, and of our hearts.”

~

I didn’t have to stay in the hospital this time. As Nico had predicted, the bullet had barely grazed my temple. I needed a small bandage, a couple painkillers, and a little rest. Soon, I’d be as right as rain.

Nico told me how terrified he’d been. “It could have hit your heart,” he said, his voice deep and tortured as he held me close. “It could have killed you.”

“But it didn’t,” I replied. “I’m fine. We’re fine. And, apparently Norah is fine, too.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Who’d have thought…Norah and the prince…?”

He kissed the top of my head. “Who’d have thought? America’s sweetheart, Chloe Burkhart, and some guy from Latovia….”

I smacked his arm. “You aren’t just some guy. You’re my guy.”

“Good to know,” he said with a slow, sexy grin. “And I think your fifteen minutes of fame are just about up. Are you okay with that, or will you continue to yearn for the spotlight?”

“Not even a little.

When Nico brought me back to the apartment, I was surprised to see my father, dressed and waiting for me in his wheelchair. Ella stood by his side, beaming.

“Hi, Daddy,” I said. “You’re looking well today.”

He smiled at me. It was the ghost of the smile he used to have, but more than we’d seen in years. “I’m probably feeling better than you at the moment. Ella told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Chloe,” he said, covering his mouth with his hand, the anguish apparent in his eyes. “I left you all alone…for so long.”

I knelt next to his wheelchair, tears streaming down my face. “You’re getting better now. Nothing else matters.”

He nodded, putting a hand on my cheek like he had when I was a little girl. He winced when he saw the bandage on my head. “Saving princes again? Is this your new hobby?”

I shrugged, rising to my feet. “It beats quilting.”

My father laughed, an actual real laugh. Then he reached up to shake Nico’s hand. “I owe you a huge debt, Monsieur le Comte.”

I stared at my father. “Daddy, I think you’re confused. This is Nico.”

My father’s green eyes were clear and focused. “Oh, I know exactly who he is. I met his late father years ago when your mother and I traveled through Europe. His name was also Nicolai Mercia. The Count of Maldona.”

“The Count of Maldona?” I turned toward Nico so quickly, I got a bit of vertigo and swayed on my feet. “Whoa. I feel a little dizzy.”

Nico immediately swept me into his arms and carried me to my bedroom, placing me gently on my bed and covering me with a blanket. “Do I have to remind you that you were sort of shot today and lost quite a bit of blood?”

“Do I have to remind you that for this relationship to succeed, we need to be open and honest with each other? What did my father mean? Are you seriously a count?”

“Yes.”

I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. I nearly growled with frustration. “Honestly? No other explanation at all? Well, it does explain the arrogance, and your aristocratic attitude, but I thought you were a security guard. An employee of the prince.”

He shook his head. “No. I am his cousin. I happen to own a company that provides security services.”

“So you put yourself in danger like this all the time?”

“I mostly specialize in cyber security, but there is occasionally a client who requires other services as well. I’m not usually in the field. I have a nice desk in a lovely office a few blocks away from here and I’ve been shot at fewer times than you, Ms. Burkhart.”

“Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could handle you getting shot at all the time. It’s troublesome.”

“Now you understand how I feel. I can’t seem to turn around without you getting into some kind of trouble. I guess the only solution is to never leave your side again. Ever. Would you agree to my plan?”

He leaned down and kissed me, gently and sweetly, the way he always did. I smiled up at him, never so happy in my life. Everything had finally come together. My father was on the mend. Ella was doing well. Norah was blissfully enraptured with Alex. I’d agreed to publish my story with Burkhart Books, and I had Nico, the person I’d wanted most of all.

“Well, Monsieur le Comte. You are a royal pain in my bottom, but I kind of like your plan. In fact, I just might love it.”

“And I love you, Chloe Burkhart. With all my heart.”