This vacation isn’t going exactly according to plan, but it’s far better than nothing. Far better.

The moment my date with Emmaline ended, I hightailed it out of there, adrenaline pumping through my system, barreling through my veins like a runaway train.

My driver and bodyguard, Nathaniel, almost fell for my half-assed plot. Almost. Unfortunately for me and my grand plans, Nate is also one of my closest friends. We grew up together and attended the local private school at the same time. Even when he was poised to be King, my father wanted my brother and me to have a genuine local presence. After school I went to Oxford and Nate became a member of the secret service in the United Kingdom. He’s about as badass as they come.

He also knows me far too well.

To Nate’s credit, he let me get all the way to my gate at the airport, nondescript duffel bag in hand, before he came strolling down the main concourse of the airport and dropped into the seat next to me.

I didn’t look up from my phone.

“Hey.”

At the sound of his voice, I started and he burst out laughing, a rare slip from the solemn coat of professionalism he wears like a bulletproof vest these days.

“What the hell, man?”

“You thought you were going to flee the country by yourself, your highness?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

I slumped in my seat and ran my fingers mindlessly through my hair. “I guess not, you asshole.”

He pretended to look offended. “Such language from a member of the royal family.”

“There’s no way I can convince you to let this one slide?”

“Not a chance.”

* * *

By the time we landed in New York, I had a plan. We flagged down the first cab in line outside the airport departure doors, which turned out to be driven by a born-and-bred New Yorker with a death wish. As we careened through the traffic, listening to him blare his horn and shout a never-ending stream of expletives at other drivers on the road and a few brave pedestrians who dared to dash across the street in front of him, I watched Nate’s shoulders rise closer and closer to his ears. We pulled up to the Four Seasons in time to avoid experiencing a classic Nate boil-over outburst at the driver.

So he wasn’t very happy when I walked with him into the lobby and then announced that I wouldn’t be staying.

“What?” he growled in a low voice, his teeth gritted, eyes narrowed.

“I rented a place nearby. It’s only a couple of blocks away. Give me a break, Nate. I’ve been under lock and key for more than twenty years at this point. I need some space.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight line and hawkishly scanned the lobby with his eyes, a habit he couldn’t break even during the middle of an argument. “There’s no way, your highness.” He exaggerated his last two words like I could possibly need a reminder about my station in life. “There’s going to be hell to pay when we return as it is, and—”

I stepped closer to him, looking him straight in the eye. “I’ll deal with my father when we get back. For now, let me do what I came here to do.” I injected a hint of my full authority as a member of Saintland’s royal family, a card I don’t play often with Nate. Sometimes I slip into that mode without realizing it, but after a decade plus of schoolboy hijinks with Nate in the books, it’s not something I want to get used to. With him, at least.

He backed down a little, his jaw working as he considered his options. A tinge of guilt shot through me. Nate has been a loyal friend to me for many, many years, and making him choose between the oath he took to Saintland and being my best friend was a dick move.

My chest tightened as he let the silence hang between us. He was the only one who could blow my cover to my father before my little getaway even got started. I had resigned myself to booking a suite in the hotel when he spoke, jabbing his index finger at the center of my chest.

“You’ll check in every day with me. In person.”

“Agreed!” I consented quickly, holding both my hands up. “Agreed. I’ll be here every day to check in with you until we leave.”

“Not more than two weeks.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that as a prince of Saintland I would be making the decisions, but at the last moment thought better of it. We could cross that bridge when we came to it.

“Anything else, best friend of mine?” I said, giving him a charming grin.

He scowled in return. “Yeah,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

* * *

My spirits are high when I unlock the door to my rented apartment and take a glance around. It’s spotlessly clean with modern furniture, chrome and white as far as the eye can see. This could be any wealthy man’s apartment. I’m sure the women I bring back here over the course of this vacation will think it fits me perfectly.

I’m truly alone for the first time in years, and I flop down on the plush leather sofa, stretching my arms above my head, relishing it.

For about a minute.

Then it starts to make me feel a little on edge.

I brush the thought away. I’ve served my mandatory year in the volunteer corps like everyone else in Saintland. I know how to be alone, for God’s sake.

Anyway, I came here for two reasons. I’ve achieved one of them so far.

To get started on the second, I pull my phone from my pocket and open the most popular hookup app in the world. I used the free Wi-Fi on the flight over to create a profile that wouldn’t give away any politically sensitive details, anything that might hint at my true identity. It went live while I was still over the Atlantic.

I haven’t had the app open thirty seconds when it pings and my heart leaps with anticipation.

It positively pounds when I click on the message button and see the profile picture of the woman who has summoned me for a date tonight.

She’s a knockout. Auburn hair. Full lips. Fuck-me eyes.

Hello, New York.