EVENTUALLY, the time comes when we have to stop. And that’s after two days. Most of the crew has recovered from the food poisoning and we’re set to resume filming. Down at the docks. It’s to be a sunset cruise, dinner and dancing—very romantic. I was an idiot to think I could go on as if nothing had changed when everything had.
And if I’d been in Sarah’s position? Knowing that she was spending time—hours and hours—with other men? It wouldn’t have taken me a few days to break—I would’ve ripped their fucking arms off within minutes.
After a hot shower, I dress and then gaze down at her sleeping form on the bed, her hands tucked under her cheek, a smile playing at her rosy lips. And this time, I just don’t have the heart to wake her. I brush her forehead with my thumb and kiss her there. With a sigh, she snuggles down under the blankets, and that’s how I leave her—warm and safe and happy.
It’s gray skies that greet me outside, and storm clouds gathering over the water. Vanessa’s already down at the docks when I arrive; I find her in the white staging tent, making notes on a clipboard. She looks up when I come in.
“Good, you’re here. And early—that’s a first.”
She speaks quickly to one of the crew members, and then he leaves and we’re alone.
Vanessa’s skin is a pasty pale and she looks even thinner, sharper than when we first met. It’s obvious she had food poisoning too. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugs. “I’ll live. But we’re on a super-tight schedule now—there’s no wiggle room for screwing around, okay?”
“Yeah, about that . . .”
“And I was thinking for tonight’s glass-slipper charm ceremony—you should send Penelope home.”
“Why Penny?” I ask, just out of curiosity.
Her ice-blue eyes seem almost white in this lighting—devoid of any color. “Because that leaves Laura and Cordelia for the final episode. Beauty versus the Bitch. It’ll be like Team Edward and Team Jacob all over again—people will eat it up.”
“Penny’s nice.”
Vanessa shrugs noncommittedly. “She’s more of a party girl. She’s nice, but Laura’s a fucking saint.” She makes a note on the clipboard. “So you’re good with that?”
I fold my arms and lean back against the table. “Vanessa, I’m not going to film any more episodes.”
Her eyes snap up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Things have changed. This isn’t a good fit for me anymore.”
“This is about Penelope’s sister, isn’t it? The quiet one.” She shakes her head. “Always the fucking quiet ones. Fine, whatever—I really don’t care what you do at night or who you spend your time with, but you are going to hold up your end of the agreement. I have given months of my life for this show—you’re not screwing that all up for me now, Henry.”
I knew she’d be pissed, so I keep my voice calm and direct. “I’ve already made my decision.”
But then Vanessa says something that stops me cold. “For Sarah’s sake, you may want to reconsider.”
Slowly, I move closer to her. “What does that mean, exactly?”
She crosses her arms, elbows pointing. “It means Sarah Von Titebottum signed a release—any footage we have of her is ours to use however we like. And I have a lot of it. I could tell a very interesting story about little Sarah. How she schemed and connived her way into the show as her sister’s assistant, even though we didn’t want her. How she seduced and stole you, not just from the other girls but from her own sister. You’d be amazed at the picture that a little editing and some background music can paint. The other girls will back me up—at least some of them—and by the time I’m done, anyone who watches will think Sarah is a nasty, selfish, vapid, backstabbing bitch.”
My jaw clenches tight enough to snap. “But none of that is true.”
Vanessa shrugs. “This is reality TV, Henry. What does truth have to do with it?”
My palms go damp and anger pricks under my skin like electric sparks.
Vanessa paces the room, then looks at the ceiling and speaks almost philosophically. “I don’t think that would go over well with your people, if you actually decide to marry her. And if you don’t, the tabloids will have a field day. Which will probably exacerbate her ‘problem’—those spells she has.” She shakes her head. “It would be very difficult for her.”
Then she slides forward, her voice lightening. “Or, you can finish the last two episodes.” She gestures toward the boat. “A few hours on the boat with Laura, dinner in front of the fireplace with Cordelia, and then the finale. No one will be surprised if, after the finale, you part ways amicably with whoever gets the diamond tiara—it happens more often than not in this business. You’ll honor the agreements you signed, and we both get what we want. And then, you and Sarah will be free to ride off into the sunset. Happy endings all around.”
My fists clench with frustration, the way a cornered animal coils before striking. But more than that, there’s an overwhelming drive to keep Sarah safe. To protect her—always—at any cost, especially from the problems I’ve brought on myself. I don’t want anyone to suffer because of my shitty choices—not Nicholas or Granny or Wessco—but especially not her.
Never her.
“So . . . what’s it gonna be, Your Highness?”
Two hours later, I’m on the boat, out on the water with Laura. We sit at a perfectly set table, having brunch with the cameras rolling. I tried calling Sarah—I keep trying—but the mobile reception is rubbish. Before we set off, I told Vanessa to explain, to tell Sarah that I’ll speak to her as soon as I’m back this evening. But I trust Vanessa as much as I’d trust a boa constrictor that promises to play nice with a kitten.
“What are you doing here, Henry?”
I sip my orange juice and Champagne, wishing for something stronger. Because this all feels so fucking wrong. “What do you mean? I’m having brunch with you.”
Laura’s head tilts and her lips curve with sympathy.
“But you’re in love with Sarah.”
I glance sharply at the camera. We’re miked, and this isn’t part of the script. It’s not the way the show is supposed to play out and I don’t know if it will end up blowing back on Sarah.
“I . . .”
“I’ve been in love, Henry. I know what it looks like.”
“It’s complicated.”
Laura’s face shines with kindness and understanding. “No, it’s the simplest thing in the world. The sky is blue, the earth is round . . . Henry loves Sarah. Isn’t that right?”
And it finally hits me what she’s doing. From the beginning this was Vanessa’s show—the story she wanted to tell. The rest of us were just pieces on the chessboard. But Laura is giving it back to me. Giving me the chance to tell the story—our story, Sarah’s and mine—even if just this once. They might edit it out, but at least it will be said.
“Yes. I love her.”
Laura’s eyes well with tears. “Good.”
I cover her hands with mine. “I’m sorry.” And I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.
She wipes under her eyes, then waves me off. “Don’t be silly, I’ll be okay.”
“Yes, you will be.” And for the first time since this whole thing began, I forget all about the cameras—and it’s just me and a friend, chatting. “One day, you’re going to find a man who worships the ground you walk on, who makes you so happy. He’s out there, right now somewhere, just waiting to meet you.”
She shrugs. “I had that. Maybe we only get it once.”
I squeeze her hands. “Horseshit.” I think of Sarah and all she’s been through, how strong she is, how she makes her own happiness. “Sometimes life is unfair, Laura. But you can’t give up. You need to just keep moving forward and happiness will find you again. I believe that.”
She smiles. And then a gust of wind blows hits us, knocking the flowers and glasses over on the table.
“We’ll have to move this inside,” the cameraman tells us.
The cameras get lowered and Laura and I stand up. Without warning, the boat tilts and Laura crashes into my chest. I hold onto her, bracing my back against the outer wall of the cabin to keep from falling over.
She looks up into my eyes. “Henry . . .”
Her expression is blank and her face pale. She swallows hard. “Henry, I . . .”
“Yes?”
That’s when she opens her mouth . . . and throws up all over me.
Well . . . fuck.
I’M NOT CONCERNED WHEN I wake up alone. I run my hand over the empty spot in the bed—Henry must have left early this morning to find Vanessa and decided to let me sleep in.
I’ve earned it over the last few days.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling, replaying those days in my head again and again. The way his hands skimmed and grasped at my skin—possessive and desperate. The words he gasped and promises he whispered.
He loves me.
Henry Pembrook loves me.
And what I feel for him, I can’t even put into words, it’s so huge. Excitement bubbles under my skin and warmth heats in my belly. Nothing will ever be the same. I was happy with myself before—with my little life. But this is different. It feels like I’m on the edge of a mountain cliff, the wind whipping my hair, the sun blinding—but there is no fear. Only exhilaration, pure and right. I’m not going to fall. I can’t.
Because Henry has shown me how to fly.
Eventually, I stretch my arms above my head—making my poor, overtaxed muscles groan. The soft, tender place between my legs throbs in a delicious, well-used sort of way. I go to take a long, hot shower. As I drag the soapy cloth over my breasts and up my thighs, it’s Henry’s hands and mouth that I see. That I feel. And I smile when I discover tiny bruises and bite marks on my skin. Proof that it wasn’t just a dream. Wasn’t a fantasy inspired by reading someone else’s imaginings in a book.
This is my story.
Penny is waiting for me on the sofa when I step out of the bathroom. She’s a bit pale from the food poisoning, and gray rings shadow beneath her eyes.
“How are you feeling, Pen? Better?”
She takes one look at my face, and says, “I’m going to cut his cock off!”
I guess she’s feeling better.
Then she doubles over onto the couch, groaning dramatically. “Tell me you did not let Henry Pembrook pop your cherry. Say it isn’t so!”
“Well . . .” I start. But that’s all she lets me get out.
“Bloody hell!” After a few more moans and groans, she sits up and takes my hand gently. “I’m sure, as far as first times go, Henry made it good. But he’s not for you, Sarah. He’s not the sticking kind. I mean, look at where we are—this show. He’s been flitting from one girl to the next. What do you think he’s been doing on all his ‘dates’ with the other girls? You actually believe he didn’t get his freak on in the sodding hot springs? With Cordelia?”
“He didn’t. We talked about it.”
She throws her hands up. “Oh, well you talked about it—that settles that, then. Because Lord knows, boys never lie. Especially rich, spoiled, entitled, royal boys. They’re the most truthful of all.”
I smile and shake my head at her. Because she doesn’t understand.
“He loves me, Penny.”
She scoffs. “Of course he does. Did he tell you that when he was balls deep or right after he came?”
I shake my head again. “No, it was before, but—”
“Before? Do you know how many men have told me they loved me before—just to have a chance to stick it to me?” She ticks off her fingers as she lists the names. “Let’s see, there was Barry Windstormer, Alfred Sullivan, Timothy Englewood—though he was hung like a bull, so totally worth it—Ryan Fitz—”
“It’s different with Henry and me.” I squeeze her hand. “He loves me. I know him, Penny, in a way no one else does. What we have is new . . . but it’s deep and real. I’m sure of it.”
My sister closes her mouth, but still looks unconvinced.
“Once upon a time, Mother was sure too.”
I flinch.
“We’re all sure, Sarah, until the bastards prove us wrong.” She runs her hand up my arm. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t want you to be another notch on the crown—and I don’t want to see you become fodder for the tabloid rags; we both know that would be especially awful for you. And when the show airs, the publicity—”
“Henry’s quitting the show. It’s not going to air because he’s not going to finish it. He’s speaking to the producer right now.”
Penny’s eyes widen. “He told you that?”
“Yes. See—they’re not all bastards, and actions mean more than words.”
The rumble of cars floats in from outside, from the driveway leading up to the castle. I spot the familiar string of SUVs.
“He’s back.”
I throw on a black sweater and slacks, and pin my hair up into a damp bun. Then I rush downstairs to show Penny how wrong she is.
Down in the foyer, Vanessa Steele flips through a stack of papers, giving directions about lighting and setup to the crew scurrying around. I look behind her toward the door, but Henry doesn’t walk through it. And I don’t see him anywhere.
“Where’s Henry?” I ask.
She spares me a quick glance. “He’s on his date with Laura.”
I’ve never been punched in the stomach, but the words make me want to fold over like I have been. I feel Penelope standing behind me listening, her emotions building like a volcano ready to erupt.
“Did he speak with you?” I ask Vanessa.
“Briefly, yes, before he went out on the boat.”
I feel my face starting to flame, but I try to be strong. “Did he say anything to you about me? About the show?”
She flicks her wrist, checking her diamond watch. “I don’t have time to chat, Miss Titebottum—I have a show to plan.” She glances over my shoulder. “Make sure you’re dressed and ready for tonight’s shoot, Penelope. And you should wear that dark blue dress—it’s a good color for you.”
Vanessa moves to step past me, but my hand lashes out, grabbing her arm.
Because I will not be dismissed.
And then I look at her face, searching her eyes.
“You’re lying.”
She gazes back at me for a few seconds and then she sighs. “I got the vibe from Henry that he felt things would be easier this way, for everyone involved. He said he would speak to you when he gets back later. And that’s the truth.”
She pulls out of my grasp and walks away.
Back in my room, Penelope vibrates beside me, like a small blond tornado that wants to obliterate everything in its path. “Fuck. Him. He doesn’t deserve you. I could literally kill him for this.”
I try Henry’s mobile again, but the call goes straight to voicemail.
“It must be some kind of misunderstanding. I’m not going to panic, Penny.”
“How could it be a misunderstanding? He said he was going to quit and he obviously didn’t. Don’t be simple, Sarah. He spent the weekend screwing you into a trance and now he’s where? With Laura Benningson. On a boat. Probably telling her the same things he’s told you. The poor, misunderstood Prince. He knows women, Sarah. He knows it’s the broken ones we try hardest to fix.”
I feel sick. My stomach twists and drops. And for the very first time, I feel . . . used.
Penelope looks around the room, her face tight and sharp, the wheels spinning furiously in her mind. “We should just go. Pack up our things and leave. Right now.”
My voice is hollow, like an echo of myself.
“You signed a contract, Penelope.”
“Fuck the contract; I don’t need them. Jerry the cameraman has a brother-in-law who’s an agent in LA. He sent him my head shots and video and he wants to fly me out there next month.” She grips my hand. “And even if he didn’t, you’re more important to me than this.”
My back stiffens. “I’m not going to run away. If Henry’s feelings have changed, he can have the decency to tell me to my face.”
“There’s nothing decent about him! And it’s not running away; it’s telling him to piss the hell off! That he can’t mess with you, like you’re some lovesick fool. He may have taken your cherry, but who cares—at least you’ll have your pride. Come on, Sarah. Be strong.”
Is that what being strong means? I don’t think so. To me it means having faith in Henry, until he gives me a real reason not to. I’m not ready to give up on him yet and I tell my sister as much.
Penny sighs, her shoulders falling, reining in her inner drama queen. “You came here because of me—all of this is because of me. And if you end up hurt because of it, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I hug her.
“There would be nothing to forgive. I’m a big girl, Penny. I’m responsible for my own choices. No one else.”
And so is Henry.
I put “Hallelujah” by John Cale on repeat on my mobile and I sit in the nook, not reading, but gazing out the window. Waiting. A storm’s come in, the rain and wind pelting the castle and the ocean waves roaring against the rocks. Penny eventually falls asleep on the sofa. They canceled the evening filming. A crew member told my sister that they decided to take the boat farther off-shore, to wait out the storm instead of trying to make a run for the shore. Worry stabs at me as I watch the waves crashing, violent and angry. I hope he’s okay . . . please God, let them be all right.
And then I realize that I’ve prayed for “them” and suddenly a whole different kind of worry pierces me. Because Henry’s not on that boat alone. He’s with Laura—gorgeous and fun and truly a nice person, Laura. Despite what I’ve said to Penny, I’m not a fool.
He wasn’t supposed to be on that boat. He promised me. Why did he go?
As the lovely song repeats, I think about all the things that have happened the last few days. So many changes.
And I feel like I’m falling after all—like my wings have been clipped.
I’m afraid and unsure about everything. It’s not just about Henry. I miss my flat. I miss the library and the simple joy of my books. I miss the consistency and assurance of knowing how each day will begin and end. I crave it, deep inside, the way a tiny turtle craves the warm protection of its shell.
The night passes faster than I imagined. And when the sun has risen full above the horizon, and John Cale’s voice goes quiet, I wipe my tears and wash my face.
Big-girl knickers time.