CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bailey
Bailey’s head was spinning by the time she and Asher were seated in the back of his limo. She wasn’t certain how a pauper prince could afford a limo, but when the car wouldn’t start, she was rewarded with her answer. It, like many little things she’d already noticed inside the palace, had fallen into disrepair. The faucet in her bathroom had come off in her hand. One wall sconce hung at an angle beside her bed. The bannister which ran alongside the main staircase wobbled.
They were little things, but the Winter Palace was very old. She imagined the required maintenance mounted daily, especially with the salt air eating away at everything. It probably formed a dead weight on Ash’s shoulders.
Though she wasn’t someone who believed in lying, she’d understood his logic. The very notion of the royal family bankrupted upset her. She was no longer a resident, though, she supposed, once a Florican, always a Florican.
Prince Asher didn’t expect a real relationship from her, either. It would be a pretense. Allowing the press to believe they were involved wouldn’t be hard. Though it just might kill her if he took her hand in his one more time.
It was difficult enough being with him in such a confined space. Once, they’d flirted and chatted as though they were old friends. All that time, she’d never known.
Her cheeks flamed and Bailey forced her attention to the window, tuning out Asher’s tour monologue. She should’ve told him she used to be a tour guide herself, but she let him ramble. If she pretended to be interested, she could almost manage the ride without meeting his eyes, without feeling like a fool.
“Bailey, look at me,” Ash said.
Or not.
“Are you listening to a word I’ve said? I can stop talking if you’re jet-lagged or not interested.” His face radiated concern.
She sat straighter, threading her fingers together in her lap. It would’ve been easy to blame it on jet lag, but Bailey had never believed in wasting words. She opened her mouth to speak, to share what was on her mind.
The driver lowered the partition between them, however, and the moment was lost. “The Summer Cottage, Your Highness.”
“Thank you,” Ash said.
The driver pressed a button on the ceiling—the one that should’ve opened the gates. It didn’t. Instead, there was a squeak, a groan, and a clunk.
“I’m sorry about this, sir.” The driver glanced in the rearview, wide-eyed. “I’m not sure how to get it open.”
“Allow me,” Ash said. Before the driver could protest, Ash alighted from the car, jogged to the front, and lifted the gate up and out to allow the car entrance. The driver pulled through. Ash shut the gate several moments later, wincing at its squeal.
He reached Bailey’s door in time to offer his hand. “Ms. Parker”
She smiled. “That’s kind of you, but it’s not exactly a terrifying step down. I think I can make it.”
“It’s for me, actually.” Ash tossed the confession out without pausing. “You see, if the papers ever spot me not holding out my hand, I’m a heartless bastard. If I do offer my hand, I’m misogynistic. I’m simply choosing one of two evils.”
Bailey smiled and, after a beat, took his hand in hers and hopped to the ground. “There. Now I’ve propagated your bad choices.”
Ash smiled. He gestured to the palace behind him. “Here we are. The first stop on your tour. My childhood vacation home.”
Bailey shielded her eyes from the sun as she glanced up. The Summer Cottage was as glorious as she remembered it. Not a cottage at all, but a modest palace.
He led her through the front doors, and it was obvious from their first steps inside something was wrong. Every surface not swathed in sheets was covered in dust. It had the vibe of a very old building that had been slowly falling into disrepair. The broken gate they’d just passed through seemed to be one of many problems. Bailey stared at the Summer Palace for what seemed like a long time before she spoke. “You’ve abandoned it.”
“We lost it. What Grandmother didn’t share is that we discovered my parents’ love of cards after their deaths. Or, at least, we learned they’d gambled all of our money away.” Ash smiled. “This was one of the first properties to go. It’s been empty for a couple of years. I had to get special permission to bring you here. As you can see, it’s not faring so well.”
He opened a window, and the sound of the sea, close and loud, filled the room. What would it have been like to spend summers there? To Ash, the building was probably a reminder of his parents’ bad choices—of a residence he’d never planned to forfeit.
Her anger dissipated. Not entirely, but enough. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been going through. “I’m sorry. It sounds awful.”
He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “The Winter Palace is still in good condition, but the building needs cared for. Things have already started to break that I’m not sure how to fix. I’m truly sorry I can’t provide better accommodations.”
Bailey waved him away. “A can of paint, a few brooms, and the place will be good as new.”
“Are you offering?” he asked.
“I’m handy with a paint roller.” She turned away, scanning the walls, the torn silk hangings, and the scuffed hardwood. The cottage still had a warm and wonderful feel, just as she remembered from her teen years.
“It’s so much more than I can manage, Bailey.”
Bailey spun around at the grief in Ash’s voice. She could almost visualize the heavy weight of duty bearing down on his shoulders. A burden he could never shed. For while he might regain the money, it would take far longer to rebuild the esteem he once held his parents in.
And suddenly, it no longer felt good to be in the Summer Cottage. Ghosts surrounded them. Even though they weren’t hers, they still haunted her.
Ash took her hands in his, moving closer. “I never meant to use you or lie to you. I know you’re angry, but it all happened so fast. My parents died and all I had was the palace, an eighty-five-year-old grandmother, and no income.
“Typeface design has been a hobby of mine for a few years now. I thought that I might be able to afford some of the lesser repairs. If I’d told you I was a prince—”
“I might have sold you out.” Bailey didn’t need to work to finish the sentence. It made total sense. Would she have done anything different in his shoes? It wasn’t like she’d revealed any of her personal problems to him. “I get it.”
“But there’s more. I wasn’t expecting to form . . . a friendship with you. I came to look forward to our exchanges. They kept me going. They made me feel normal at one of the loneliest points in my life.”
Bailey shook her head. The last thing she wanted was his pity. To think about how he must have pretended to flirt with her. “You don’t need to—”
“Yes, I do. I may have just asked you to pretend to be in a relationship with me for the press, but I meant every word I said in those texts. That was me. It wasn’t an act.” He stood so close, their bodies almost touching. More heat, the special kind that seemed reserved for Ash, flamed her face.
You look beautiful.
It was no doubt he’d meant those words, at least if the intensity of his stare right then was anything to go by. Would he kiss her?
No, he was just waiting for a response. And she’d been staring at him like a love-struck teenager.
“Thanks. I thought we were becoming friends.”
Ash’s smile was quick, easy. “We were. We are friends. At least, I’d like us to be.”
“Good. I’d like that, too.” She gestured to the space around them. “I am sorry about all of this.”
“As am I. It will be all right. I have a plan.” His expression turned cryptic, and he took a step back from her. “Shall we continue our tour?”
“Yes, please. Could this tour involve lunch, however? I’m starving. My treat.”
Ash’s face split into a grin. “Where did you have in mind?”
“The best Florican crêpes you’ve ever had. Bonjour’s.”
“Really?” Ash cocked an eyebrow. “You think Bonjour’s crêpes are the best?”
“What? You know someplace better? This is a very important claim. I’m only visiting Florico. I can’t eat inferior crêpes.”
He took her hand in his, leading her back to the door. “Nothing but the best for you.”
And there it was. Another of those one-liners designed to simultaneously thrill and embarrass her. Ash was kind of a hard read, but damned if she didn’t want to know him better.