Emmy wouldn’t tell me what had happened in the powder room, but I could tell something had gone down. That was confirmed when I saw Lady Linda, Lady Tamara, and Lady Margaret slink out of the powder room several moments later looking like a group of chastised kittens. I gave Emmy a kiss on the temple, proud that she was clearly holding her own in a situation that was unbelievably unfair.

I tugged at my collar, wishing I was anywhere but here. These events were the worst. I didn’t mind the end result—raising money for charity—but I preferred my usual manner of participating, which was sending them a check in the mail.

Tonight, in particular, I wasn’t in the mood. I tried to ignore the bitter taste in my mouth when I thought of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Things had gone from bloody amazing to total shite in a ridiculously short amount of time. And I knew it was my fault. That I had wanted to be a normal guy so badly that I had put Emmy in the crosshairs of the reality of my very abnormal life.

I had to make it up to her, I just didn’t know how yet.

I spotted Hugh across the room and felt my entire body tense. Wanker. I was still burning at the way he had treated Emmy that morning. I hadn’t expected to declare my intentions for her in front of a room full of people—hell, I hadn’t even expected to declare them at all—but when Hugh started speaking about her like she wasn’t important, I couldn’t help but correct him. Because even if I didn’t know where this was going, I knew it wasn’t like my other flings. I knew it wasn’t something I wanted to end when the season ended.

“I was wondering if you’d make it.” Gwen Kingston appeared from the crowd. She was in her sixties, a former tennis pro-turned-charity fundraiser, and the force of nature behind this event tonight. We’d met at a tennis gala, years ago, and she’d brow-beaten me into supporting some of her projects. I was happy to oblige. She was a no-bullshit kind of woman, who liked to use her former glory as a three-time Wimbledon champion to get rich folks like the ones here tonight to pony up money to help those who needed it most. “Now, who’s your gorgeous companion?”

“This is Emmy Anderson,” I introduced them. “What, no compliment for me?”

“Your ego couldn’t take it,” she shot back. “It’s already enormous.”

“You know, they say the same thing about my—”

“Ahem.” Gwen gave me a withering stare. “Let’s not lower the tone just yet.”

“Suit yourself,” I grinned. “If you don’t want me to know about my enormous bank account and the check coming your way, then so be it.”

“Will this one actually have your name on it?” Gwen asked, before turning to Emmy. “Did you know that his donations practically kept the sports school afloat when we first started? Everyone thought it was a wasteful project, but it’s so important that everyone has access to great training. Most of these kids had never been near a tennis court before we started. But thanks to Charlie, they’re serving up aces, and really enjoying themselves.”

“I didn’t know that.” Emmy turned to me with an interested look.

Gwen nodded. “He’s responsible for its success, and refuses to take any of the credit. Which is odd, for someone with his enormous… ego.”

“That’s enough of that,” I told her. “You’re going to ruin my bad boy reputation.” I winked at Emmy, more than ready to change the subject.

“Well, I better circulate and shake those checkbooks loose.” Gwen said. “And I see your brother glowering. What have you done now?”

“Breathing seems to be an issue these days. Come on,” I told Emmy with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hugh was at the other side of the room, talking with a variety of donors and other important, posh people. Exactly the kind of company I tried to avoid. But he looked totally in his element, his suit starched to perfection, his hair slicked back. I was pretty sure he had been born wearing formal wear.

And his wife, Annabelle, looked equally comfortable. Her pale blue dress was expensive but modest, exactly what she was expected to wear, her hair in some elegant, overly severe hairstyle. She looked like she’d been born to be a royal bride, and knowing her family lineage; there was probably some truth to that. They’d been in the aristocracy for generations, related to some Duke down the line. I’d known her for years, since we were all kids, stuffed into uncomfortable formal clothing at Christmas parties and ceremonial dinners. By the time we were teenagers, it was clear she had a massive crush on Hugo, but I never thought he would look twice at her. She was sweet, sure, but always kind of bookish and plain, not like the ski bunnies and posh models who flocked around him at the member’s-only bars. Or like Hugo’s first love, a glamorous British starlet who made headlines with their brief fling. I thought he was smitten at the time, but the relationship quickly fizzled out – or, more likely, a sharp word from our parents reminded him about finding a suitable match.

So, he started dating Annabelle instead, and soon they were walking down the aisle at St. Paul’s Cathedral to a life of stuffy wedded bliss. I’m sure they’re happy together, they seem to get along just fine, but I wonder sometimes if he regrets his choice. If he wished he could have pursued true love, even if it wasn’t ‘suitable’ for someone in his royal position.

Glancing over at Emmy, her hair beginning to come lose from her own intricate style, I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach, imagining her trying to live up to Annabelle’s example, and fit in with all these boring events.

“Hugh,” I greeted my brother when we reached him, his companions excusing themselves politely. “Annabelle. You’re looking well.”

She looked tired and uncomfortable, but I kept that to myself.

“Glad to see you made it,” Hugh told me, purposefully avoiding looking at my date. Wanker. World-class wanker.

“This is Emmy,” I introduced her to Annabelle, who mustered up half of a genuine smile.

“A pleasure,” Annabelle said.

“I love your dress,” Emmy offered kindly.

Annabelle gave her a short nod as thanks, as Hugh pulled me aside.

“I can only hope that your appearance tonight is enough to counter today’s tabloids,” Hugh said stiffly. “Though you could have tried a little harder.”

I sighed. “I’m here, I’m properly dressed, what more do you want?”

“You may be properly dressed . . .” He glanced over his shoulder to where Emmy and Annabelle were standing awkwardly in silence. “But your date isn’t. Is that thing handmade?”

I felt my blood boil, but I clenched my jaw and said nothing.

“I’m just looking out for you.” Hugh put a hand on my shoulder. A hand I shook off. “We don’t want another scandal.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to keep her away from movie stars then,” I shot back, immediately regretting my choice of insult.

Hugh narrowed his eyes. “That’s ancient history.” He answered shortly. “And unlike you, I knew when to settle down and take my responsibilities seriously.”

Turning on my heel, I offered Annabelle a quick goodbye and linked my hand with Emmy’s, pulling her far away from my family.

It wasn’t until we were outside on one of the more private patios that I was able to relax. Shaking out my arms in an attempt to release some of the tension that had tightened across my shoulders, I closed my eyes.

“That bad?” Emmy’s voice came.

“I hate these parties,” I said with a sigh. “I hate all the egos and the rules and the insincerity of nearly everyone here. You know, the cost of hosting something like this would be better spent on the charity itself, but those rich, status-climbing sods wouldn’t have shown up and certainly wouldn’t have given money without the red carpet and all the trimmings.”

“But they did,” Emmy pointed out. “That’s better than nothing.”

“I suppose.” I exhaled, trying not to let my bad mood ruin things.

“Your sister-in-law seems nice,” Emmy said, glancing back inside.

I laughed. “She is nice,” I told her. “Deep down, beneath the royal façade.”

Emmy nodded. “You, on the other hand, don’t seem to have that façade.”

“I bloody well hope not.” I ran a hand through my hair. “The last thing I want is to be anything like my brother.”

“He can’t be that bad,” Emmy said kindly.

How she could be so forgiving to someone who had treated her with such disrespect was beyond me. But then, I was starting to think that she was a far better person than I was. At least when it came to dealing with my brother.

“He just likes to be in control,” I tried to explain.

“Hmm. Sounds like someone else I know,” Emmy teased.

I chuckled. “Fair point.” I put my hands on the railing and leaned forward, looking out over the well-manicured grounds surrounding the palace. “He just hates a scandal. They all do.” I looked over at her. “Any skeletons in the closet you’d like to tell me about?” I asked, even though I had a hard time imagining Emmy doing anything scandal-worthy. At least, without my bad influence.

She confirmed my suspicions and shook her head.

“Then things should be smooth sailing from now on,” I told her. “I just hate that we have to worry about the press. It’s none of their business.”

“I guess it’s the price you have to pay,” Emmy said.

“I know,” I sighed. It was a conversation I’d had more times than I could remember. “And I know I’m lucky—incredibly lucky—to have the kind of privilege I have. But I still can’t help feeling trapped. Which makes me feel guilty for not appreciating what I have.”

“I think it’s natural to want the kind of freedom you’ve never had.” Emmy leaned against me. “But in the end, you chose the life you want to have.”

I breathed in her scent. Just having her near was comforting. Made my stress vanish.

“You know what I choose?” I asked her.

“Hmm?”

I turned to face her, pulling her soft curves against me. Sliding my hands down her hips, I could feel the outline of those tiny, tiny knickers against my fingers.

“I choose to say our goodbyes and go somewhere more private. And I can show you exactly how in control I like to be.”

* * *

We barely made it through my front door before we were kissing frantically. I had done my best not to touch Emmy on the drive back, knowing that once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. She was like a drug, but without any side effects. Just pleasure and perfection.

Pressing her against the door, I groaned as she arched against me, our tongues tangling. Her hands roamed over my chest, pushing my jacket off my shoulders and fumbling with the buttons. I had hoisted her up into my arms, her legs wrapped around me, her dress hiked up around her waist. Using the wall for balance, I slid my hands up her soft, smooth legs, finding the apex of her thighs. Finding her soaking wet.

“I can feel how much you want me.” I stroked her through the lace of her panties, loving how her eyes flashed with desire.

She moaned and rolled her hips forward, her hands abandoning their quest to undo my shirt. I teased her clit, smiling as she gasped against my mouth. But we were pressed too closely together for me to touch her the way I wanted to. To kiss her the way I wanted to. Where I wanted to.

My hands tight on her hips, I carried her to the couch, knowing I wouldn’t be able to make it as far as the bedroom. I couldn’t wait. I wanted to taste her now. I lowered her onto the leather cushions. “My favorite view in all of London,” I told her, pushing her dress up, and dragging her panties down.

But before I could kiss her there, she placed a hand on my chest.

“I want to taste you,” she told me.

I groaned. It took all my self-control to keep it together, the sight of Emmy on her knees almost too much to bear. Then she unzipped me, releasing my aching cock, her hand eager and hot. She wrapped her fingers around it, dragging it downward slowly. Then she took me in her mouth.

The heat and wetness of her tongue, the image of her gorgeous red lips wrapped around my cock, the smooth slide of her hand, all of it nearly overwhelmed me with pleasure. I didn’t want her to stop, but I didn’t want to come like this.

“I want to fuck you,” I managed, my voice sounding choked even to me.

She looked up and gave me a wicked smile. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out an impressive amount of condoms.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she told me. “May I?”

I nodded, clenching my jaw as she rolled the condom down on me. I was on the edge, so close and yet nowhere near ready to come. Not until I’d made her scream my name at least a half dozen times.

“Come here.” I reached for her, pulling her onto my lap.

Her dress was still on, as well as her panties, but I was too impatient, too eager to discard them. Instead I shoved the heavy velvet dress to her hips, pushed the wet lace aside, and positioned myself at her entrance. Then, with her hands on my shoulders, she slowly sank down onto my cock.

I groaned as she took me deep, deeper then I had gone before. But I needed more. I needed to touch her. All of her. Reaching back, I unzipped her dress, pulling it off over her head, revealing her gorgeous tits. Cupping them with my hands, I took one into my mouth, swirling my tongue around her taut nipple.

Then she began to move, rocking her hips forward, and I lost myself in her. All that mattered was Emmy. Her body, her beauty, her everything. It had never been like this before. I had never wanted to be part of someone as much as I wanted to be a part of her. I wanted to bring her pleasure, to drive her wild. She moaned as she rode me, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I slid one hand down her hips, reaching around to grab her ass, guiding her movements, urging her to go faster.

“I want to feel you come,” I told her, my voice rough, my own release close.

She threw her head back, her teeth white against her red lips as her hips arched forward in a frantic rhythm. I took her nipple in my mouth, dragging my teeth against the hardened peak, dragging my hand around to her stomach and downward. My thumb found her clit and she gasped, moving even faster, fucking me even harder. I stroked her, all my finesse gone, just needing to feel her climax, needing to bring her that release before I found my own.

Then suddenly, she stiffened and cried out, her body shuddering. She clenched me tightly and with one final thrust, I reached my own climax.

Collapsing back against the sofa, I gathered Emmy in my arms. I could feel her heart racing, its beat matching my own, and I felt completely at peace. Completely satisfied.

Never mind winning Wimbledon, the biggest prize in town was right here in my arms.