CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Asher
The letter came at just after three thirty that morning. It had been written in Jenson’s hand before someone, presumably Jenson himself, slid it beneath Bailey’s door. The outside contained Ash’s name. The inside, a single line.
Lady Kovačič has accepted.
Ash’s attention flashed to Bailey. He knew he could no longer stay with her. He belonged to Lady Kovačič. Even though he did not love her, couldn’t conceive of loving her, he would be faithful. All to save his ancestral home.
Though he desired nothing more than to stay with Bailey. He couldn’t. It would only make things worse when everything ended.
And it had to end.
Back in his rooms, his mind spun in so many directions he couldn’t fall asleep. Not when the memory of Bailey naked above him filled his mind and stirred his loins.
By the time he descended the steps leading to the interview room hours later, he could barely keep his eyes open. Ash moved straight for the coffee station, knocked back a single, black cup of espresso, and then poured another.
Bailey moved to his side. “Where have you been?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He patted Bailey’s hand, but didn’t meet her eyes and kept his distance. “Are you ready to get started?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with—”
But Ash moved across the room to be fitted with a mic before she finished. He was being unforgivably rude, he knew, but she was too tempting. He should have waited for Bailey—made sure she wasn’t nervous. Held her hand. He did none of those things. To touch her again would mean the end of what little resolve he had.
Bailey, however, had plenty of experience interacting with strangers, what with so many clients. She smoothly pulled herself onto a tall stool beside him. After several minutes, Bailey too had been outfitted with a mic. She switched it off and faced him. “What’s wrong?”
He turned off his own mic. “Nothing. We have an interview.”
“Is that the reason you left my bed without a word?” she whispered. “I thought last night meant more to you than that?”
He gritted his teeth. “It did, but we both knew it could never be more. It could only ever be a one-night stand.”
“So you were handed every man’s dream on a platter. Why are you being such a dick now?” She hissed the question.
Guilt sunk to the soles of his feet. “Because I have to let you go, that’s why.” Ash didn’t bother to hide the emotion on his face. Not when he felt such acute pain at the thought of breaking things off with Bailey.
Bailey’s tortured expression had to match his own, but whatever she was going to say got cut off by the moderator. “If you’re both ready, we’ll begin.”
“Of course.” Bailey switched on her mic without a word.
Ash followed her lead.
The moderator faced the audience. “Thank you for joining us for this morning’s press conference. His Highness and Ms. Bailey Parker will now begin taking questions.”
A reporter in blue plaid raised a hand. “Yes, Prince Asher. Are the rumors true? The royal family is destitute? That you’ve taken a job to keep your family in the palace?”
Ash knew he was supposed to lie, he was supposed to pretend for the cameras. Right in that moment, however, he was tired of lying. To himself. To the press. To his people.
He thought he should be honest. Should tell them the truth.
But it was Bailey who rested her hand across his. “He took the job for me. The prince and I were involved. Having fallen into type design as a hobby, he offered to assist me on a few projects. That’s all.”
“And no money exchanged hands?” This came from a ginger reporter with a round belly.
“Yes, but it was for a new fund the palace has begun to support Florico’s historical buildings,” Bailey said. “I’m afraid there’s no mystery. Prince Asher was merely helping a friend.”
“And what is the nature of your relationship now? Will there be a ring on Bailey’s finger someday soon, Your Highness?” a reporter in a beige pantsuit asked.
Ash shook himself out of his daze. “No. Ms. Parker and I have always been and will continue to be . . . just friends.”
There were several more questions. Queries about Bailey’s business and clients, which she fielded. Ones about Prince Asher’s education in graphic design, which he responded to. But the excitement had fizzled from the room in much the same way air escaped from a helium balloon.
Soon, too soon, the interview ended and only Ash and Bailey were left in the parlor.
“I thought we’d have more time.” Bailey’s voice sounded rough, scratchy. “I know we said we’d just have last night, but . . .”
“You would have taken a lifetime?” Ash asked.
Ever so slowly, Bailey nodded. “You helped me when no one else would. I can move on now. I don’t want to, but I can. You’re my best friend. It may sound funny to you, but you are.”
“It doesn’t. You’re mine. You’re the only person who I’ve truly been close to.” Ash slid from his stool so he could take her hands, and stare into those warm and wonderful eyes of hers for however many moments they had left. “I love you.”
“And I love you. But now, I’ll have to stand by as you marry someone else.” Tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not making this any easier.”
Ash pulled her into his arms, doing his best to memorize the way her body fit against his, and the smell of her shampoo—something floral. His memory would never do it justice.
When the doors burst open at the far end of the room, the last thing Ash expected was for the queen to stride in, unannounced. A tall, reed-thin man in flannel and suspenders followed in her wake, as did Jenson.
“Ma’am! Ma’am, I have to introduce you,” Jenson cried.
“Oh, posh. This is my own home, after all.” She seemed thoroughly agitated until her eyes landed on Ash and Bailey. “There you two are.”
Ash quickly released Bailey. “Yes, here we are. I expected you at the press conference.”
The queen scowled. “I could not possibly have attended. I was too busy cleaning up your mess. I cannot believe you’ve chosen Lady Kovačič.”
Ash stared at her. “Is this quite the time, Grandmother? We have company.” He inclined his head toward the flannel-clad man.
“You may speak freely,” she said. “This pertains to both of these men.”
Jenson, Ash didn’t mind, but he didn’t like revealing his private life in front of a stranger. Of course, if Grandmother was encouraging him to do so, there must have been a reason.
“Very well. Yes, I did choose her. Lady Kovačič is exceedingly wealthy and single. It will solve our problems.”
“Asher.” His grandmother reached up and patted his arm. For the space of a moment, Ash wasn’t a crown prince anymore. He was the grandson of one very kind woman who’d always been there for him. “None of this should have been your burden. You’ve taken it on admirably, but I never wanted a loveless marriage for you. This isn’t the way.”
Ash rubbed his pounding temples. “But the palace. We can’t afford to keep it up.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness,” Jenson said, “I’d like to introduce you to my friend here.” He gestured to the young man in flannel. “This is Leonard. You may know him as—”
“Bad Ass Typophile!” Bailey cried. “I recognized you from your profile pic.”
Leonard actually blushed enough to match his shirt. The transition between hues was seamless. “In the flesh,” Leonard said.
“I don’t understand. It’s nice to meet you, but what are you doing here?” Ash asked, shaking Leonard’s hand.
“To bring you this.” Leonard grinned as he handed Ash an envelope.
“Leonard and Jenson here gave us a jumpstart!” the queen said. “It’s thrilling!”
“A jumpstart . . . Wait, do you mean a Kickstarter campaign?” Bailey asked.
Leonard grinned. “Yes. To save Florican ‘historical sites.’” He used air quotes as he spoke.
Ash paled as he withdrew a check from the envelope. “This is a check for a hundred thousand florins. It’s enough to repair everything.”
“Consider it a loan. Use the money to do what you will to save your family. Then, once you’re done, invest it into Florico again,” Leonard said.
“But why would you do such a thing?” Ash couldn’t believe his luck. There had to be a catch. “Why donate your time to raising money for the Florican monarchy?”
“Why don’t you ask Leonard what his last name is?” asked the queen.
Bailey turned to Leonard, a curious expression taking over her glorious face. “What is it?”
“Keats. Leonard Keats. Jenson is my uncle. He suggested I use my social media influence for good instead of evil.”
“But why the Kickstarter?” Ash asked.
Leonard grinned. “When the queen found out what my uncle had cooking, she filled me in on the real story. You’ve employed four generations of my family, and I spent two weeks here every summer as a kid. I had to help.”
“And that’s not all,” the queen said. She turned to Leonard and Bailey. “We’ll be paying back this loan fairly quickly. I’ve been playing the stock market.”
“What do you mean, Grandmother?” Ash asked, unable to make sense of it all. Afraid to hope the conversation would lead him to Bailey.
“I got in on Windsor at the ground floor.” Grandmother winked at him. “We are well on our way out of debt.
So that means, my lovely Ash that you don’t need to marry Lady Kovačič after all. You can marry for love. And I think . . . you just may have found it.”
Ash embraced the Queen of Florico as he met Bailey’s eye. “I have, Grandmother. I truly have.”
“Excellent,” she said as she released him. “Leonard. Did you know I have a passion for topiaries? Perhaps you might visit my private garden?” She winked as she turned from Ash and Bailey, leading Leonard by the arm, Jenson followed, close at her heels.
Ash turned to Bailey, his eyes wide and his smile wider. Gripping her hand, he spun her around. “Meet me at the place where we first kissed? I have something to do and then we won’t have to be apart again.”
“I’ll be there,” Bailey said, a slow smile spread across her face.
“I’m counting on it.” Ash said as he turned and sprinted in the direction of the dungeon. He had something very special in mind for his Ms. Parker.