Charlie won his match easily, as if there were any doubt. Watching him play was amazing: the way he dominated the court, his muscles rippling with every winning shot.

What did I tell you? Tennis was sexy, after all.

To celebrate, we all went out to the same club that we had gone to my first night in London. Only this time, instead of looking at Charlie from outside the VIP ropes, I was now on the inside, in his arms. Paige and Jules were losing their mind over the luxury of it all, but they were both doing it in the most restrained way they could manage. Only I could tell, by the way their eyes kept widening as the champagne kept flowing, and the looks they shot me as we were given the full VIP experience.

The music was pumping, the drinks were always full, and we were all having an amazing time. I was in a dark corner with Charlie, the two of us lost in our own little world. His hand was on my knee, and I couldn’t stop raking my fingers through his thick, dark hair. I was having a wonderful time, but I also couldn’t help wondering when we’d be able to sneak off to be alone. Completely alone. Naked, and completely alone.

“You were amazing today,” I told him.

Watching him play in person was a hundred times better than watching it on TV, and for the first time I completely understood why it had been such a big deal for Paige to come to Wimbledon to see her favorite players in person. Being there was a unique experience—it wasn’t just about the match, it was about the excitement in the stands, about the tension in the air. All those tiny things that a TV camera could never capture.

And watching Charlie in the middle of it, in his element, just made me fall for him even more. He was an extraordinary player, and even I could see it. His love of the game was evident, and his passion radiated from every pore. The only time I had seen him that focused, that intense, was when we were having sex.

I shivered with anticipation, just thinking about how electric things would be tonight.

“I’m glad you were there,” Charlie told me, playing with my hair. “I might have been showing off a little for you.”

“You? Showing off?” I teased, and he gave my nose a tweak.

“Cheeky minx.” He cupped his hand around the back of my head and gave me a kiss so hot I was pretty sure smoke was coming out of my ears.

“Are you excited for the finals?” I asked once we had surfaced for air, rehydrating with champagne. “Who are you playing against?”

“Killian Black,” he said with a confident grin. “And I’m going to kick that Aussie wanker’s arse.”

I remembered how much Charlie disliked Killian, and how evident that had been last time we were here and Killian had been chatting me up at the bar.

“I hope so.” I batted my eyes at him. “Because I’d hate to have to switch teams.”

“You wouldn’t.” Charlie put on a look of exaggerated affront.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I pretended to examine my nails. “I’m really only interested in winners.”

“I knew it.” He ran a hand up my leg, slipping it under the hem of my skirt. “You’re only in it for the fame and fortune.”

“That’s right.” I tried to keep a straight face, but instead let out a little moan as his hand traveled higher, his fingers hot against my bare skin. “I’m only interested in you because of your big, hard trophies.”

He pinched my thigh. I should have stopped him, but we were alone in our little corner and I really didn’t want him to stop. He drew little circles on the inside of my knee.

“Don’t you worry.” He kissed the slope of my shoulder. “You’ll get plenty of quality time with my trophy.” His mouth moved higher, as did his hand. “And what about you, my little designer?”

“What about me?” I was getting a little breathless from his touches, and it was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on our conversation.

“Don’t you have your meeting with Sara Saunders tomorrow?”

I slapped him on the shoulder. “Stop reminding me,” I told him. “I’m nervous enough already.”

I still couldn’t believe I was meeting with one of my favorite designers. That she had asked to see me. But thinking about it made my queasy with nerves, so I had done everything I could to forget that it was happening. After agonizing over my portfolio, Paige had forced me to put it away, and refused to give it back to me until tomorrow. It was an annoying, but effective strategy.

“You’re going to do great,” he assured me. “They’ll love you.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “I just don’t want them to laugh at me.”

“They won’t.” Charlie said it with such confidence that I couldn’t help but believe him.

Then he pulled back, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face.

“Do you like London?” he asked.

“Like it?” I laughed. “I love it. It’s probably one of the most incredible places I’ve ever been. It has everything—museums, architecture, amazing food, great pubs, fun clubs and . . . one of the cutest guys I’ve ever met,” I added with a wink.

“So why don’t you stay?” Charlie suggested.

I froze, glancing over at him. “Stay?”

“Once Wimbledon is over. Don’t go back to San Diego. Stay here. Stay with me.”

My heart gave a little leap of joy, but I told myself not to get too excited just yet.

“You could work on your fashion label, or go to design school,” he suggested. “I’ve heard people say it’s one of the fashion capitals of the world.”

I smiled. That person was me, but I’d never in a million years considered moving here. I thought this was just a summer trip before I figured out what the rest of my life would look like, but now that Charlie had suggested it, I couldn’t help imagining what he was saying.

Me, here. With him.

“I mean, that flat of mine is big enough for two,” Charlie added. His voice was casual, but the expression in his eyes was totally sincere. “And my bed definitely is.”

I gulped. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“That depends,” Charlie replied. “On whether you’ll say yes. I know it’s moving fast,” he added, looking almost bashful. “But I want to be with you.”

“I . . . would love that,” I told him, unable to believe what was happening.

His smile grew. “Great.” He reached for the champagne bottle to refill our glasses, but it was empty. “Stay right there,” he told me. “I’ll get some more champagne and we’ll toast to your new adventure.”

He left me, my thoughts whirling and my heart racing at this unexpected suggestion. Me. Moving to London. Focusing on my designs. Living with a freaking prince! Not that it mattered that Charlie was a prince. He could have been a street sweeper for all I cared. He was handsome, and kind, and funny, and a damn good kisser. I liked everything about him—his title was just a bonus.

Someone sat down next to me.

“Emmy,” Charlie’s brother Hugh addressed me, his voice as serious as ever. “It’s good to see you again.”

I was surprised that he was there. Not only had he been absent from Charlie’s game, but he didn’t seem like the kind of person to frequent clubs like this. And he certainly was not someone who seemed especially keen on making small talk with me. Or talking with me at all.

“We missed you at the game,” I said before I could second guess it.

His eyes widened a little bit, and I was guessing that he wasn’t used to people like me chastising him for his behavior. But he should have been at Charlie’s game. Because family is family, and if I had to be the person to remind him of that, well, so be it.

“I was otherwise engaged,” he told me.

“I’m sure,” I responded. “But I’m sure Charlie would like you to be there for the finals.”

I watched Hugh glance across the room where Charlie was talking to Hugh’s wife, Annabelle.

“I’m not sure he would even notice,” he said, his voice quiet.

I raised my eyebrows. For a minute, Hugh sounded like any normal, insecure sibling, instead of playing the role of proper royal.

“He would,” I insisted. “I think it would mean a lot if you came.”

Hugh looked at me, and for the first time it actually seemed like he saw me. Not some American tabloid magnet, not some fame-hungry girl trying to bag his brother, but me.

“You make him really happy,” he said.

“He makes me happy,” I responded. “I like him a lot.”

“Most girls do,” Hugh observed, before giving me an assessing stare. “But you seem to like him for different reasons.”

“He’s a good person,” I told him, even though I was pretty sure Hugh knew that.

“He is,” Hugh confirmed. “But he doesn’t always let that side of him show.” He sighed. “Sometimes it seems like he lets his reputation direct him, instead of the other way around. He has so much potential. So much talent.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

Hugh started as if he had never even considered that option. “No,” he said slowly. “No, I guess I haven’t.”

“It always helps to hear those kinds of things from the people we care about,” I said. “Even if you’re someone like Charlie.”

Hugh let a small laugh. “You’re right.” He stood. “I know I might not have made the best first impression with you, but I’m man enough to admit when I’ve been wrong. Since the two of you have gone public with your relationship, Charlie has never been so focused. So together. He finally seems to be growing up. Becoming the person we always knew he could be. And I think we all owe that to you.”

I blushed. “It’s not me,” I insisted. “I think you don’t give Charlie enough credit for his own choices. He’s the one who’s trying his best out there on the court. He wants to do the family proud, even if he’d never admit it.”

“Perhaps.” Hugh gave me a nod and headed back to his wife and family.

“What was that?” Paige flopped down in the seat Hugh had just vacated. “Charming two princes?”

I slapped her arm. “We were just talking about Charlie.”

Paige gave me a surprised look. “And no one started yelling or throwing things?”

“I’m pretty sure Hugh hasn’t yelled or thrown anything in his life,” I told her.

Paige glanced over at him. “True, but he’s never been your biggest fan.”

“I think that might have changed.” I told her about our conversation, watching the disbelief bloom on her face.

“No way,” she exclaimed.

“Way,” I responded with a smile. “Guess I’m a good influence on him.”

Paige gave me a hug. “Of course you are. You’re a good influence to all us bad boys and girls.” She pulled me to my feet. “But now it’s time for this bad girl to influence you. On the dance floor.” She swiveled her hips. “Come on, girlfriend, let’s boogie.”

I laughed and followed her, wiggling my fingers in Charlie’s direction. I had a pretty good feeling he’d be keeping an eye on me, so I made a mental note to add some extra sexy shoulder shimmies into my usual repertoire of dance moves.

“I love this song!” Jules cried out as she joined us, the three of us moving to the beat.

I was caught up in the music and the movement when I felt my phone buzz against my hip. I ignored it and focused on my dancing, grabbing Jules’ hands and spinning her around, swinging underneath her arm and shaking my hips to the heavy bass rhythm. My phone buzzed again. And again. And again.

“What the hell?” Paige asked, pulling out her phone. “Who is texting me?”

“You too?” Jules reached for her own cell. “I feel like my hip is going numb from all the vibrations.

I went to look at my phone too, but Paige’s hand stopped me.

“What?” I looked up, and found her face ashen. My heart dropped. “What happened?”

I heard Jules gasp, and I knew it was bad. Fumbling for my phone, I swatted away Paige’s attempts to stop me.

“Emmy, wait,” she said, but I had already unlocked my screen.

Immediately I was inundated with social media alerts and messages. All of them wanted to know what I had to say about the latest news. Since I had no idea what they were talking about, I did the tremendously stupid thing and Googled myself.

Google gave me what I was looking for and then some. The headlines seemed to scream at me from the harsh glare of my phone.

TITS FOR TAT: PRINCE’S NEW STUNNER’S SECRET SEXPLOITS. EX SPILLS ALL ABOUT HER SORDID PAST.

I clicked through, and to my horror found myself staring straight at my own naked body. The photos. Those naked pics Zeke had insisted I send, and the lingerie pics, too. Back when I thought it would make him love me. God, how stupid had I been? And now the whole world was getting an eyeful of the naïve eighteen-year-old I had once been.

My knees buckled, and I might have collapsed on the dance floor if Paige and Jules weren’t there to pull me to my feet and drag me back to the VIP area.

“Shh, it’ll be OK,” Paige told me, but she didn’t sound so sure. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but I could see the news traveling fast through the club: people looking at their cellphones and gossiping in groups. In the corner, Hugh was on his phone, his forehead scrunched tight. He shot me a look that said in no uncertain terms that all those flattering things he had said about me were now void. In fact, I was pretty sure he would deny our conversation even happened.

Declan marched over, looking angry. He pushed his phone towards me.

“Did you really say this?” he demanded, showing me another story.

‘I’m leaving with him tonight’ Tea girl boast to society toffs.

I gulped. “It’s not what it sounds like,” I tried to explain. “They were—”

“Did you say it, or didn’t you?” he wanted to know.

“Yes, but—”

He held up her hand. “I really thought you were different,” he told me fiercely. “But apparently you’re just like all the other girls who look at Charlie and see nothing but his title and fame.” He scowled at me. “I hope the boost you got to your designing career was worth it.”

He turned and marched away.

I turned back to Paige and Jules, my heart in my throat. “Where’s Charlie?”

“I don’t know.” Jules looked anxious. “But Emmy, maybe you want to let him cool off.”

“No, this can’t wait.” I looked around again, and caught a glimpse of Charlie, out on the terrace. I gulped. He was pacing, clearly angry, and I didn’t blame him.

How was I going to explain this?