Monday

It was a chilly day, but that didn’t stop me from slowing down to admire the dresses in a shop window on the corner of Sloan Square. It was Emilia Wickstead’s flagship store, a favorite of celebrities and well-heeled Londoners. The dresses were done in shades of sherbet—pale apricot, lavender, coconut—and beautifully tailored. Worthy of a princess. Of a woman who was living out her dreams.

Who was living her very own fairy tale.

My chest tightened. The cold air wasn’t helping. But I knew it was longing that had me breathless. I wasn’t jealous of Emily finding her forever guy, or that she was marrying a legitimate prince. But I did envy the fact that she was becoming the woman she’d always dreamed she’d be. She was doing fantastic work alongside Kit at The Prince’s Foundation. Work she found fulfilling, and that she was respected for. She was with a man who loved her for who she was. There was a certainty about her path—her future—that I very much wanted for myself.

I wanted to know where I was headed, too. Where I’d be setting down roots. Who I was going to be with.

I hated to be such a cliché. You know, the single woman who turns thirty and starts to panic. But it was hard not to feel like I was being left in the dust. My friends were getting married and having babies. They were moving on and disappearing into their new lives. It seemed like everyone was busy living out their happily-ever-afters, while I was busy clearing out my inbox and scrolling through weirdos on dating apps.

I liked my life, don’t get me wrong. I liked my job. I’d even go so far as to say I loved it. But I was lonely. And even though there were a lot of other great things happening right now, sometimes that loneliness was all I could think about.

My phone vibrated in my bag. I dug it out and smiled when I saw a text from Philip.

Looking forward to tonight. This place is top notch, always bring clients there. Hope you’ll like it.

We had a date at a fancy steakhouse. It was our second in one week. Things were progressing nicely with him. He was charming. Successful. Sure, the sparks weren’t flying quite yet. But he called when he said he would, and always showed up on time. Pretty much the opposite of all the other guys I’d dated in the past. It was nice, not having to guess what his intentions were, or make excuses for him.

Can’t wait, I texted back. Love trying new places. How’s your day going?

“Look at you, smiling before I’ve even arrived. I knew you’d missed me.”

I looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. My smile contracted when I saw Rob striding towards me, his security detail a few steps behind. His hands were in the pockets of his navy double-breasted coat. It was cut to perfection, accentuating his height and the breadth of his shoulders. His blue eyes, playfully narrowed on me, glowed in gloom of the grey afternoon. He was wearing that cocky smirk of his and just a whisper of scruff.

Ignoring the jolt of warmth in my blood, I dropped my phone in my bag.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I nodded at the restaurant at the end of the block. “Shall we? I only have an hour.”

“You’re the boss.” His eyes latched onto mine. The warmth inside my skin pulsed with a vengeance. “Let’s get to it.”

He dismissed his detail, telling them to grab some lunch. They protested. But after some sweet talk, they finally gave in and left.

He held the restaurant door open for me, and we were swiftly ushered to a quiet table in a corner. I quirked a brow when he ordered a water with lemon.

“What?” he asked, unfolding his napkin before settling it on his lap.

“No beer? Jameson? Flaming B52 shot?”

His eyes, teasing, met mine. “Someone’s got to pay the bills.” He settled his forearms on the edge of the table. “I’ve started a new position at The Prince’s Foundation. I’m the director of donor relations.”

“Wait.” I sipped my water. “They actually promoted you?”

He had the grace to look a little sheepish. “I know I haven’t exactly been a model employee. But I wanted to take on a more active role. After everything that happened with Kit and Emily…well. I knew they needed more help. And it is my parents’ foundation. It’s up to my family to continue the work they started.”

My animosity toward him softened, just for a moment. Ten years ago, Rob’s parents had died tragically in a plane crash. I wasn’t the biggest royal watcher, but his family was part of pop culture growing up. I remembered when the crash happened. The way Rob looked, head bent, as he walked behind their coffins beside his brothers and sister. His grandfather’s arm around his shoulders. That image had become iconic to my generation, the way the image of JFK Jr. saluting his father’s casket had become iconic to the generation before.

“I’m very sorry,” I said quietly. “You must miss them.”

He let out a breath. It was the sincerest, most unguarded sound I’d ever heard him make. “Like crazy. But in a way, I get to be with them every day at the foundation. Doing the work they started. I’m finally able to focus on that connection—the one between my parents and the people they’ve helped.”

I nodded, more curious than I should’ve been. “Finally able to focus? What kept you from focusing before?”

He looked down at his lap. Fiddled with his napkin again. “My grandfather died a year ago. We were close. Losing him kind of wrecked me for a while. That’s why I ghosted so much on the School For the Arts project. Just couldn’t get my shit together. Not that there’s any excuse for that, but…”

“Wow.” I blinked. “Rob, I’m really sorry. You should’ve said something.”

He shook his head. “Didn’t really feel like talking about it. I mean, you and me—we’re not the best at communicating, yeah?” He smirked. “Not with words, anyhow.”

My face flooded with heat. Rob was being Rob, but this time I refused to take the bait. That part of our relationship was over. So I cleared my throat. Ignored his comment and attempted to steer the conversation in a more appropriate direction.

“It must’ve been really hard, losing another father figure like that. I know everyone is always talking about how you look like him or whatever.”

Rob’s eyes moved to the window at our right. His smirk faded. I could’ve imagined it, but I swore I saw a flash of pain in them. Of darkness.

“I’ve definitely inherited a lot of his traits,” Rob said after a beat. His eyes moved to mine again. Whatever was there was gone now, replaced by a mischievous glint. “His good looks, obviously.”

I rolled my eyes. “You may have started a new job. But you clearly haven’t stopped being cocky.”

He grabbed his glass. Brought it to his lips as they twitched into that smirk of his.

God, that smirk.

“I thought you liked it when I was cocky? Pun most certainly intended.”

I tipped my head, spearing him with a look. “And there it is—the reason why I didn’t want to do this lunch. Look, I’m not any more thrilled about working together again than you are—”

“We don’t have to be thrilled to work together,” Rob said. “We just have to get this stuff right for Kit and Em. That’s one thing we both want, right?”

I turned my head to look at him from the corner of my eye. “Right.”

“So let’s do it. Talk to me about the engagement party.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and put it on the table, tapping on the calendar icon. “Has your client confirmed that we can use her house yet? If not, my grandmother might have a manor or two that might work.”

I was blinking again, hard, struggling to process everything that was happening right now. I hadn’t known that Rob was so torn up about his grandfather’s death. That, I one-hundred-percent bought it. As flaky as Rob could be, I don’t think he’d lie about something so personal. The press had always compared Robert to Prince Alexander, the Queen’s husband. I remembered seeing a picture of the two of them cracking up at some shared joke—knowing Rob, it’d been a dirty one—their eyes and their smiles and even the way they stood the exact same. It made perfect sense that Alexander’s death had gutted Rob.

But did I buy that Rob was now this semi-earnest, semi-responsible, water-drinking director of fundraising at a nonprofit organization?

Not really. Although I did like the suit. A lot. And I liked the little joke he was making about his grandmother. Rob wasn’t supposed to be prince charming.

But here he was, being kinda-sorta charming. Hard to believe after those emails he’d sent earlier.

“Oh?” I said “Your grandmother must have some pretty fancy friends.”

Rob shrugged. “A few here and there. No one to write home about.” His eyes were on mine again. “By the way, you haven’t told me yet.”

“Told you what?”

“To fuck off.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I nodded at his phone, where the hour was prominently displayed at the top. “It’s only twelve fifteen—there’s still plenty of time for that to happen.”

* * *

The details for the engagement party were set by the time our waiter came to take our salads away. Aly, being Aly, had been brimming with ideas—she was clearly into this stuff—so I’d struggled to contribute much of anything. But I’d tried. Eventually I’d convinced her to let me handle the liquor and cigars (I’d tried for the food, too, because I had a mate with a catering business, but that’d been a nonstarter).

The conversation had actually gone quite well. But after we’d run out of party stuff to talk about, a bit of awkward silence stretched between us as we waited on the bill.

Aly checked her mobile. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear as she read something on the screen. Something that made her face soften into a smile, the way she’d smiled when I saw her outside on the sidewalk earlier.

Aly had never smiled like that for me. Was it that Bumble bloke of hers? How could a dolt like that possibly make her smile?

I draped my arm over the back of my chair and laid the other on the table. “How are things going with that ‘someone else’ of yours? Peter or Patronus or whatever his name his?”

“Who the hell do you know named Patronus? Harry Potter’s uncle? It’s Philip.” She looked up at me from her mobile. She blanked the screen and set it aside. “And I already told you in my email. My relationship with him is none of your business.”

It wasn’t any of my business. I was actually a little embarrassed I’d included all those P.S.-es in my emails last week. But for some reason, I couldn’t let it go. Maybe I was still smarting from being passed over for Paul the Wanker. Maybe I thought Aly could do better than a high-strung city boy with bad hair.

“Why are you in such a rush to settle down?” I asked.

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head. “Why are you in such a rush to fuck everything that moves?”

I let out a bark of laughter. Genuine, surprised laughter. Aly laughed too, her eyes flashing with satisfaction.

“You take pride in giving as good as you get, don’t you?”

Her gaze met mine. A challenge. “It’s not hard. You make an easy target.”

I put a hand to my chest in mock gratitude. “Thank you.”

“What?” She settled her forearms on the table and leaned in, grinning. “Do people usually not have the balls to insult you? Because you’re a prince or whatever?”

“You have balls?”

“Big ones,” she said with an emphatic nod.

I grinned back. The stuff in my chest loosened. I took a breath, let it out. “I’m only third in line to the throne. No big deal.”

“Not for long,” Aly replied. “I have a feeling Kit and Em are going to be making lots of babies.”

“Then I suppose I should become accustomed to being insulted.”

People did speak to me like this. “People” meaning my mates from the Royal Navy, my twin brother Jack, and Marty, the head of my security detail. But they never called me out on my bullshit the way Aly did.

Wrong that I liked it?

She was smiling now. It was an even bigger smile than the one she’d had on for Payton. Paco. Phoenix?

“You should prepare yourself, yes,” she said. “Like I said, you’re an easy target.”

The waiter returned with the bill. Before he could set it on the table, I handed him my card.

“Rob! No. We’re splitting this,” Aly said, digging into her bag.

I held up my hand, nodding at the waiter. “I insist.”

“Really.” Aly continued her digging. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. If I’m going to become less important, I probably should start buying some friends.”

She laughed again, and her hand fell out of her bag. “Too bad I’m not for sale.”

“You sure about that?” I said, crossing my arms on the table and leaning into them. “Name your price.”

I was flirting with her now. Openly. But Aly didn’t seem to mind. She arched a brow and shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulder.

“More than you can afford, that’s for sure.”

My card arrived then. I signed the bill and put the envelope on the edge of the table.

“Thanks,” she said. “Seriously.”

“So it’s safe to assume lunch isn’t going to cut it, yeah?” I asked.

“No.” She was smiling again. That big, gorgeous smile. “You’ve still got some groveling to do. But it was still really nice of you.”

I let out a breath. “You think we’ll really be able to pull this off? The whole best-man-maid-of-honor thing?”

I don’t know where the question came from. I had been thinking a lot about being Kit’s best man and what it meant.

But more than that, I didn’t want this lunch to end. I was actually enjoying myself. Enjoying Aly’s company, even though we were fully clothed. Go figure.

“Why?” Aly furrowed her brow. “Are you nervous?”

I shrugged. “A bit, yeah. Kit and I are close, don’t get me wrong. He’s been a brilliant friend. But being good just comes so naturally to him, you know? It’s in his genes.”

“You guys are related—you share a lot of the same genes. You do know that, right?”

“I know,” I said. “Of course I know that. We’re just…different, I suppose. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Aly’s eyes moved over my face. I was used to being checked out by girls. I was the Queen of England’s grandson. I was six-two. I stood out in a crowd.

But Aly wasn’t checking me out. She was looking at me. Really looking. I wondered what—who—she saw. Did she see Alexander, the way everyone else did? Or did she see something different?

“I hate to pat you on the back because you’re you, and the last thing you need is an ego boost,” she said at last. “But just the fact that you’re worried at all about disappointing your brother shows that, for once, you care about—”

“Hey,” I said. “I care about stuff.”

She raised her brows. “Like what?”

“Like fast cars and pussy. Obviously.”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

“I’m teasing, Aly. You were about to say—”

“I was about to say you care about doing right by your brother.” Aly tugged her hand through her hair, mussing it in the most delicious way possible. Awareness shot through me, landing in the head of my cock. Fuck me. I may be turning a new leaf in many ways, but damn if my dick didn’t operate the same way it always had. “It’s what you want. And you seem to be pretty good at getting what you want. With women, anyway. So have a little faith in yourself.”

I nodded, even as I knew it wasn’t true. I meant what I said about Kit and I being different. He was like my parents. My grandmother. They were steadfast, honorable, good people. They didn’t have demons inside them the way I did. The way Alexander had.

They wouldn’t hurt people the way he had. The way I inevitably would, too.

I set my napkin on the table. “I should be off. You’ll let me know if you need anything else for the party?”

“I will.” Aly stood, and I stood with her. “Thanks for your help. And thanks again for lunch.”

She struggled with her coat. I stepped around the table and helped her find the sleeve. My fingers dipped into her collar as I slid the coat on, brushing the bare skin at the nape of her neck. She drew a breath. Looked at me over her shoulder.

“Stop being so polite, would you?” she said. “It’s freaking me out.”

I smirked. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

I’d dismissed my detail before Aly and I had sat down. I’d been to this restaurant many times before, and the staff and patrons were discreet. In this part of town, people mostly left me alone anyway. Still, I had the strangest sense of foreboding as Aly and I headed for the door. I hurried to open it for her. She blinked at a sudden flash. It was followed by the familiar click and flutter of cameras.

Shit. The paparazzi.

They’d found us.

Aly froze, a look of pure terror on her face. My stomach churned with sudden, potent anger. Anger egged on by a surge of protectiveness. The press had hounded my sister Jane over the past year following her divorce. She was just trying to move on—dating around, having some fun—but the media was making her out to be some sort of Jezebel. It was such a double standard. I’d gotten flak for having fun, too. But my reputation hadn’t suffered nearly as much as Jane’s had. The media all but condemned her. I loathed them for it.

Just like I loathed them now for catching Aly unawares after a private lunch with me.

Just like I loathed them for comparing me to a man who’d torn whole families apart. A man who wasn’t at all the god they believed him to be. They compared us, and they always—always—found me lacking.

They didn’t know the truth. They never would. But that didn’t stop me from hating them anyway for being a constant reminder of all the things I could never be.

The things I could never have.