Olivia’s fingers slipped through her wetness and she groaned as she came, her orgasm slaloming through her body and making her shake. She brought herself to another quick climax, scrunched up her face as it skated through her, then stilled. She clenched and unclenched her calf muscles, letting a languid smile wander onto her face as the thought of Rosie on top of her, her naked full breasts pressed into her, made another wave of desire wash over her.

She had to stop thinking about Rosie.

She was going home soon and she was engaged to be married. That thought brought a frown to her usually smooth brow as she stretched her arms above her head, enjoying the last rattle of her orgasm as it skittled through her.

She needed to get up and make herself look presentable: the Queen had demanded an audience.

She glanced out the bedroom window. The rain lashed down outside, clattering against the pane. As long as she lived, she’d never understand British weather: brilliant sunshine one day, driving rain the next. She hoped it wasn’t a sign of impending doom.

She closed her eyes, letting her fingers settle over them, the only sound her breathing, now returning to normal. She swung her legs off the bed and threw herself in the shower.

Today might be her last day in Otter Bay if her mother had her way.

Half an hour later, she was dressed in a green shirt that brought out her eyes, her hair styled and bouncy, make-up applied as if she was starring as the lead in a Hollywood production. Where her mother was concerned, appearance was key.

Now she just had to try to shift the image of a semi-naked Rosie from her brain, and she’d be all set.

She flicked on her tablet, called up Skype and pressed the button. She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, her sharpened nerves.

Her parents answered almost immediately, and Olivia sat up straight, adjusting the screen so they could see her clearly. When she saw Jemima sitting in a third armchair in the palace’s drawing room, her heart sank.

Shit, they meant business.

Jemima looked nervous, as she always did in front of the Queen.

Olivia gave her a sympathetic smile: she wasn’t alone.

“Olivia,” her mother said, crossing her legs in a no-nonsense manner. She was wearing a navy skirt and jacket, with a lemon-yellow shirt. Her mother didn’t do casual. “How are you?”

Olivia cleared her throat. “I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“We’d be better if you were back home where you belong.”

Okay, she wasn’t standing on ceremony.

“Father said I could stay another week,” she countered, already feeling out of control. Her mother had that effect on her.

“And that’s up when? Tomorrow?” Her tone had gone up an octave. “Tell me, what’s so fascinating in Otter Bay? Have you forgotten you’re engaged to be married?

Jemima gave a sarcastic wave. “Hi, Olivia. Nice to see you, finally.”

“You, too,” Olivia replied, her voice flat. Jemima had on a long red skirt, paired with a cream top that showed off just enough of her golden skin that seemed to go on for miles. She looked tired, but she’d gone heavy on the make-up to cover it up. If you didn’t know her, you’d probably miss it. Olivia knew her.

“Olivia, I’m not going to beat around the bush.” A slight smile from Jemima at those words, mirrored by Olivia. “You’re coming home tomorrow, and that’s that. We’ve given you time to sort yourself out, but honestly, you’re taking advantage of your father’s good nature. I think you’ll agree we’ve been terribly patient. Plus, we’ve resisted plans to send you bodyguards, even though security is less than happy you being there alone.”

She nodded. “You have, and I’m grateful.” She needed a charm offensive if she wanted to stay a little longer — and she desperately did. There were still things to do, stuff to sort. Namely, getting Gina through her test, and getting the cafe set up for its new era.

A flash of her and Rosie’s nearly-kiss rolled through her and she sucked in a breath.

If she was honest, Rosie was on her list of things to do, too, but that wouldn’t be kind to Rosie or her. It would be sexy, satisfying and fulfilling, but not kind. Rosie deserved someone who could fulfil her dreams, who could appreciate her for who she was. And that someone wasn’t Olivia — seeing her parents and Jemima had driven that home.

Still, Olivia could finish what she started before she left. It was the least she could do.

She sat forward, painting on her endearing smile. “You’ve been brilliant, all three of you. And I’m sorry I haven’t been there, Jemima, I know you want to do some official engagement photos.” When you haven’t got your tongue down Tabitha’s throat. “And I promise, I’ll do all that when I’m back. The photos, an interview, the wedding plans — the works. But I need to finish off a couple of things here first — I’ve already said I’m going to help out in the local community this weekend, and they’re counting on me.”

A flash of thunder crossed her mother’s face.

Olivia ploughed on. “What I’m saying is, I’m coming home, of course I am, but I just need to tie up a few loose ends. Another week, that’s all I’m asking, and then I’m all yours.” She beamed at them, bracing herself for her mother’s tirade.

“Another week?” Her mother threw up her hands. “Don’t you think I’d like to swan off for a month somewhere, hiding in a house in the country, no responsibilities, no ties. We all would! I know your father would.” She glanced at her husband, but he just gave her a non-committal smile. “But life’s not like that, Olivia, and the sooner you learn that, the better. Life as a royal especially is not like that. We do things for others, with no thought for ourselves.”

Olivia tried to muffle her snort, but she wasn’t as successful as she’d hoped.

Her mother’s face hardened. “Don’t scoff, Olivia. It’s a very unappealing habit.”

She winced. “Sorry, Mother. I know I’m asking a lot, but please, I just need this time. And as soon as I’m back, we’ll do photos. Can you wait that long, Jemima?”

Jemima jolted slightly on hearing her name. “Sorry?” She hadn’t even been listening.

“I was saying, one week and I’ll be back to do everything, okay?”

She gave her a resigned shrug. “If that’s what you’re offering, I guess that’s what I’ll have to take.”

“Hugo, this is not acceptable — will you please speak to your daughter.”

Her father sat up, leaning forward so his head took up the whole screen. He’d never quite got the hang of using a video camera. “Olivia, your mother’s right. You’ve been away for nearly three weeks, it’s time to come home. For one thing, there are wedding details to sort out; for another, your fiancée has been left in limbo, wouldn’t you say?”

With her mother, Olivia’s first reaction was always to put up her fists, prepare to fight; her father had the opposite effect on her.

She stared at the screen, then nodded. “How about we compromise and say I’ll come home Tuesday. Five days.”

Her mother coughed. “Five days instead of seven? Not really a compromise. I want you back here for a photoshoot on Saturday or nothing.”

“Monday?” Olivia’s tone was light, so unlike the crushing sensation in her chest. She resisted the urge to count on her fingers: Saturday meant she only had two days left.

It was unthinkable.

Her father came to her rescue, as had so often been the case. “Monday will be fine. Nothing’s booked, Cordelia,” he told his wife, patting her hand. “Just make sure you’re here for midday, okay?”

Olivia breathed out. “Okay.”

Her mother squinted into the screen. “At least you listened with the haircut — the colour’s not too bright and you look semi-respectable, not like you’ve just got out of prison like you did in the army.”

She swallowed down her response. “I’ll see you Monday.”

Olivia stood up and walked to the kitchen sink, pouring out a glass of cooling water before drinking it down. Three weeks in Otter Bay and she’d almost managed to tune out her real life; almost managed to forget her duties, her family, her upcoming wedding.

Almost.

But that call had brought it all sharply back into focus; once she was back in London, the slow pace of life and leisurely nights with Rosie would be a thing of the past. Soon, she’d have to go back to reality, and that thought made her rub her chest. Funny, but over the past three weeks, Otter Bay and Rosie had begun to feel like her real life.

Today was Thursday, and she had four days till she had to go back. She was going to make the most of them. The cafe was coming along, and with a bit more effort, it should be finished by their deadline. And she loved the paint colour Rosie had chosen: lemon yellow with shades of blue, just like her mother had been wearing today. The new chairs were being delivered on Saturday, and then that evening, Olivia was going to take Rosie out and show her a night she’d never forget.

A night that would make her stick in Rosie’s memory forever.

Her phone beeping interrupted her thoughts, and she swiped right. Jemima.

‘Make sure you do come home on Monday, because I’m just about done putting on a happy face for your mother. I’m in your corner here, don’t forget it. See you Monday. x’

Olivia dropped her phone on the table and stared at the rain.

A cup of tea and some toast would make this better. She filled the kettle and switched on the radio, just as a song was coming to an end and the DJ began to chat.

“Big royal wedding news today: Kensington Palace has announced that the royal wedding cake for Princess Olivia and her bride, Jemima Bradbury, will be flavoured with elderflower and rose to emphasise the summery nature of the wedding. More royal wedding news as we get it on Radio One — only nine weeks to go!”

Olivia flicked the switch, clutching the counter.

Nine weeks.

Fuck.

Real life was barrelling towards her at pace, so she’d better make these final four days count.