She was in shock. Sloane looked at Gabe and knew by the way he looked at her she hadn’t misheard. He was a prince. It suddenly made sense—the tuxedo, the “homework,” the scary ass man in the fancy car.

“Yeah. Prince Gabriel, right?” Detective Braxton answered as she wrote notes on her small notepad, oblivious to the upheaval her words were causing. “Or are you Prince Zain? You two look so much alike.”

Gabriel. Gabe. Oh my gosh. Sloane took quick little breaths trying not to freak out. Was he just using her? A freaking prince didn’t date a dirt-poor waitress for any other reason.

“Yes, I’m Gabriel. Can my date and I go someplace private to answer any questions you have?”

How had she not seen it? Gabe, Prince Gabriel that is, stood looking every inch a royal. Sloane tried to take a step back, but he tightened his hold on her waist instead of letting her go as people snapped pictures of them.

“Of course. As soon as I saw you standing here, I called Agent Parker. We have an unofficial agreement to call him if anyone from Keeneston ends up in trouble,” Detective Braxton explained as she took a bystander’s phone.

“I have an apartment not far from here.”

Detective Braxton nodded. “I know where. We don’t have many princes in Lexington. I need to talk with my officers for a moment. Should I meet you two there?”

“Yes, please. And call my security detail and ask for Nash Dagher. He’s the agent in charge of my brother and me.”

“Done. I’ll have some officers accompany you until Agent Parker arrives,” Detective Braxton said as if talking to a prince were an everyday occurrence. Sloane, on the other hand, was very close to hyperventilating. If she had thought Gabe was too high above her when he was simply part of a family who owned a thoroughbred farm, they’d find out about her past even faster now. There was probably some security agent, like the scary man, running her name right now. She could see the king and queen telling him to stay away from her, and somehow that would hurt more than anything—seeing the familiar look of judgment.

Sloane was so overwhelmed that his parents were rulers of some country that she let him pull her into the SUV. She blinked as she watched him walk in front of his car. She was so stupid, just like her parents had told her. Sloane had wanted to live a quiet life away from them, away from her past life. And how was she to do that if her picture ended up in the paper for dating a freaking prince? It could ruin everything.

The door opened and Gabe slid into his seat. He didn’t say anything as he drove away from the restaurant with a police escort. Sloane couldn’t look at him during the short drive to the apartment building known as the most luxurious in town. Instead anger, hurt, and embarrassment filled her.

Gabe pulled in an underground garage and parked as one officer escorted them from the car and the other headed upstairs with Gabe’s keys. Gabe went to hold her hand, but Sloane pulled it away. She didn’t want an audience for what she had to say.

“Are either of you hurt? We could call a medic,” the officer asked.

“Thank you. I’m fine. Sloane?”

The sound of her name on Gabe’s lips had tears waging war with her anger. She’d dreamed of him saying her name filled with passion and caring one night before. She’d dreamed he’d spoken her name with this intimacy before he kissed her. A dream that had turned into a real-life nightmare, knowing those dreams of love were dead.

“I’m not hurt. Thank you.”

“It’s clear,” a voice came over the shoulder walkie-talkie.

The three of them entered the elevator. Gabe reached forward and keyed a code. The elevator stopped at the penthouse. Of course it would be. When they got off the elevator, they walked into a lovely entrance with white marble and lightly tanned walls. The second officer was waiting by the elevator.

“Do you want us to wait here with you?”

“No thanks. Just wait in the garage until Agent Parker arrives.”

The two men nodded and returned to the elevator. The doors silently closed and they were alone.

“Sloane,” Gabe started and Sloane lost it.

“Don’t you Sloane me. You lied to me!”

Gabe hung his head and did a remarkable job at looking remorseful. “I know, but please let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Sloan flung her hands up in the air as she stormed through a hallway into the most beautiful living room she’d ever seen. Elegant, classic, handsome . . . it was pure Gabe. The marble continued as well as the light tan walls. But the room, which was lined with two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows, contained a dark brown rug, a glass table, two leather chairs, and a leather couch. Along the wall connected to the hallway was a gas fireplace with a large flat-screen television above it. Past that was what she guessed were the bedrooms. An open kitchen was off to the left and a large dining table ran between the kitchen and the wall of windows so diners could enjoy the view of downtown. She was so out of her element.

“Explain that you used me for laughs,” she accused him. “Because we both know a prince from . . . wherever you’re from, doesn’t date waitresses.”

“Nothing about our situation is funny. Please, just listen. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to get to know you better. When I tell people who I am, one of two things happens. They either pretend to be interested to get the attention and perks of being a prince’s girlfriend, or they run scared. I didn’t want either to happen. I’m too interested in you to risk losing you before I could see if there was something there.”

Sloane’s breath caught as he stalked toward her. She stepped backward until she ran into the wall of windows. “And we both know there’s something between us.”

Sloane looked up into his eyes and gulped. There was something there, but how could that be? But when he began to lower his lips toward hers, the differences seemed to melt away.

Chimes rang out and Gabe stopped, his lips just inches away. She could feel him breathing and smell the scent of him. She stopped breathing as she waited to be kissed.

“Someone’s here. We’ll continue this discussion later. In private,” he said, his voice dropping lower before he looked at his phone and pressed a button.

Sloane blushed red as the elevator opened a few seconds later. She heard hurried footsteps and then a man appeared wearing an FBI jacket.

“Gabe, are you all right?” the man asked as he wrapped Gabe in a hug and thumped his back. Was it Gabe or Prince Gabriel? She expected the man to be respectfully polite like the detective had been. However, this man, who was tall with hazel eyes and a slightly edgy look to his muscular body, had walked right in and hugged a prince.

“We’re fine. Ryan, this is Sloane Holiday. Sloane, this is my friend, Ryan Parker. He’s the head of the FBI office here in town.”

Agent Parker held out his hand and shook Sloane’s with a look of curiosity on his face. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Sloane, please,” she said, looking between the two men.

“We grew up together in Keeneston and are close friends,” Gabe explained.

So a prince and an FBI agent were close friends. Sloane couldn’t get the image of a snooty prince in a castle out of her head. What if what he told her before was true? That his mom just threw a punch at someone, he’d had to clean out stalls as punishment, and his dad sounded so cool . . . but how much of that was true and how much was the lie he told her to get laid?

“Sloane, um, didn’t know who I was,” Gabe admitted.

Sloane watched Ryan’s eyes widen in surprise, and his lips cracked open and a loud laugh burst out. Sloane looked at Gabe, who rolled his eyes. Against her will, she smiled at him. Gabe looked so happy at her smile that she began to feel the first threads of doubt leave. Maybe he wasn’t playing her?

“I can’t wait to tell Sienna,” Ryan gasped as he wiped at his eyes. “You really didn’t know who he was?”

Sloane shook her head. “He led me to believe he was in college, studying international relations.”

Ryan started laughing again and said something about having to text his wife.

“If you say one word, I’ll tell the Rose sisters Sienna is pregnant,” Gabe said threateningly as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared Ryan down.

Ryan went pale. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. I feel bad enough that I embarrassed Sloane by not telling her who I was. Especially since it’s because of me she was put in harm’s way—twice. I won’t have you telling the whole town.”

Oh, no. Sloane was definitely weakening in her anger toward him. “Who are the Rose sisters and why are you so scared of them?”

“They’re the dragons of Keeneston. They just turned one hundred. They rule the town and the gossip tree that starts with the Blossom Café,” Gabe explained.

“And they’ve bet on who will have the first baby among this generation of couples. My wife, Sienna, and I have been married the longest, so everyone thinks it’ll be us. The other night I caught them going through our garbage. I ran them off before they got into the first bag, though,” Ryan explained, and now it was Sloane’s turn to burst out laughing.

“I can see the big FBI agent running off a trio of elderly women. Were you afraid they’d hit you with their walkers?” Sloane asked, finding it easy to feel accepted by Gabe and his friend.

“Broom,” Gabe and Ryan said at the same time.

“No way,” Sloane laughed, not believing them for a second.

“Yep,” Gabe confirmed. “Miss Lily wields a broom, Miss Daisy a wooden spoon, and Miss Violet a spatula.”

“They used them to keep us in line when we were young boys,” Ryan explained. “Now they use them to threaten me to hurry up and have another generation of babies for them to raise. As if I don’t get that enough from my mother and grandmother.”

“I thought Mrs. Davies just wanted grandchildren, which she has plenty of,” Gabe said to Ryan. Sloane took a seat on the couch and listened. Hearing them talk as two friends, as two equals, somehow comforted her more than anything Gabe could say.

“Nope. She’s declared she can’t die without great-grandchildren. My grandpa just nods and says for once he agrees,” Ryan told them as he and Gabe continued to talk, including her in the conversations until she heard the chime again. Gabe picked up his phone and pressed a button.

“Nash is here.”

“Good thing, I was running out of embarrassing stories to tell Sloane about you,” Ryan said, sending her a kind smile.

Sloane returned his smile as the elevator opened and footsteps grew closer. Ryan had put her at ease and had told her stories about Keeneston, the Rose sisters, and the trouble the boys got into growing up. Ryan made Gabe sound like a completely normal person. He never once mentioned him being a prince or any other royalty. In fact, he referred to Gabe’s parents as Mo and Dani. She had no idea what to think of the man standing in front of her. Was he a liar? A cheat? A prince? Or just the man she’d started to fall for?

---

Gabe owed Ryan the best bottle of bourbon he could find. Gabe could see Sloane relaxing as the two distracted her with stories from their youth. However, at the sound of Nash approaching, he knew that would be coming to an end. He was a prince. Someone was trying to kill him. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. The last time was in Monaco two years before in the form of a woman with a needle filled with insulin.

Gabe had handled it himself and had handed her off to Nabi, Nash’s predecessor as local protection for the royal family. It had turned out the woman had been hired by an oil company whom Rahmi had refused to work with. But now there was a woman Gabe cared about in the picture.

“Detective Braxton filled me in and is on her way. What do I need to know before she arrives?” Nash asked, not bothering to introduce himself to Sloane. Gabe shot him a look to remember his manners. Ahmed had trained Nash, that much was clear, especially when Sloane tried to make herself invisible.

“Nash, this is Sloane Holiday.”

“I know,” Nash said simply, and Gabe wanted to punch him.

“I like her, and it would be nice to introduce her to my best friend.”

That caught Nash off guard. The look of cold-blooded calculation and determination on his face softened. Not much, but enough to make him a little less scary. When Nash had arrived in Keeneston, he’d been short and skinny as a rail. Tough workouts and eating at the Blossom Café had helped him grow to six feet of hardened, lethal muscle.

“Really?” Nash said with some interest as Gabe and Ryan nodded.

“Hmm, interesting.” Nash looked to Sloane, who stared back with fearful wide eyes.

“Are you that scary man’s son?” Sloane asked. Gabe snorted before covering up his laugh with a cough. Ryan didn’t bother trying to cover it. He just laughed. Even Nash smiled.

“He’s my mentor. I’m Nash Dagher, head of Gabe’s security.”

“I gathered that. So, he’s a prince or something, and he only has one person watching him . . . sometimes?” Sloane asked as Gabe could see her trying to come to grips with who he was and how he lived.

Nash looked quickly to Gabe who just shook his head.

“Very interesting indeed,” Nash muttered as he realized Sloane had no clue about Gabe or his family. He then turned back to Sloane and gave her a soft smile. “I take it you do not know about Gabe’s situation?”

Sloane shook her head as Nash and Ryan sat in the two leather chairs. “Gabe, you need to fill her in.”

“I know.” Gabe sat on the couch next to Sloane. He was thigh to thigh with her, and even in a situation like this, he felt the connection between them. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose it. “Sloane, my uncle is King Dirar of Rahmi. It’s a small island country close to where the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea meet.”

“Your uncle is a king?” Sloane asked slowly.

“Yes. And my cousin and older twin brother, the ones I’ve told you about, are the heirs.”

“But if your brother is an heir—”

“I’m third in line. Soon to be fourth whenever my brother and his wife have a child. Possibly even fifth or sixth when my cousin starts having children with his wife. However, I am in the family business of diplomacy, and I’m afraid you may have gotten stuck in the middle of a tense negotiation with King Draven of Bermalia,” Gabe explained.

“Is any of what you told me true? Do you live here? Did you even grow up on a farm? Did your mother really punch someone?” Sloane asked as he felt her body begin to shake. Gabe didn’t know if it was nervousness or anger.

“Yes, all of it is true. Ryan, Nash, and I are from Keeneston. That’s where I grew up. My parents, who have the title prince and princess, have a horse farm called Desert Sun. And growing up, I worked that farm every day, just like I told you. I was, and am, very much a regular guy. My mother, who did in fact just punch the king of Bermalia, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Sloane looked to the others who nodded. “I should know,” Ryan said, speaking up gently. “His mom and my mom are best friends and we grew up together. Nash joined us when we were older, but he can testify to it as well. The entire royal family living here is made up of ordinary people. In Keeneston, they’re simply Mo, Dani, Zain, Gabe, and Ariana.”

“Except, now that Zain and Gabe have become more public, they have more problems outside of Keeneston,” Nash said, bringing them onto point. “And since that problem is staying in a hotel down the street, we need to come up with a way to handle it.”

Sloane didn’t say anything as she sat next to him. When Gabe went to hold her hand, she slowly moved it out of his reach. The loss was instantaneous, but Gabe knew he needed to give her more time so he placed his hand back in his lap and focused on Nash.

“What do you need?” Gabe asked.

“First, I need to know everything that happened—from both of you. Ryan, why don’t you take Sloane to get a drink while I hear Gabe’s take on the events.”

“Sloane can stay here,” Gabe told him, not wanting to leave her.

“I need your stories to be your own. I don’t want any confusion,” Nash instructed as Ryan stood and held out his hand for Sloane.

“Come on. I know where he keeps the really good stuff.” He winked and Sloane gave him a small, but weak, smile.

Nash and Gabe watched until she was out of earshot. When he looked back, Nash was on his phone. “What’s going on?”

“Poppy and Zinnia have modernized the Blossom Café betting pool. It can be done electronically now. I just texted them twenty dollars on you being married this year.”

“You’re worse than my mother,” Gabe said, shaking his head.

“I don’t think so. Your mother already has your tuxedo hanging in her closet. I’m giving you seven months,” Nash smiled before putting away his phone. “Now, tell me everything.”