I had to be back in the Capital by six o'clock on Sunday evening, for a scheduled dinner with various charity directors involved in anti-poaching efforts abroad. That meant leaving Woaden – and Eva – by four-thirty, at the latest. We slept in until noon and awoke with what I can only describe as a sex hangover. Which is like an alcohol hangover but pleasant, rather than awful. Eva even complained at one point that her thighs were sore, which made me want to beat my chest like a silverback gorilla. Not that I actually did that. I apologized and kissed her and told her it was just the price she paid for being so sexy. And then one thing led to another and the poor girl's thighs were even sorer – and my smile even wider.

The Capital. I didn't want to go back. I wasn't finished with the weekend, or with Eva, and it had all gone by so fast. We hadn't had time to get to Penzelle beach, where I spent many a childhood summer day body-boarding with Charlotte under the watchful eyes of our nanny, Tippi. We didn't get to the seafood restaurant in St. Maves, the one with the local specialty oysters. I wanted to see the look on Eva's face when she tasted them. I didn't get to take her mushroom picking on the Annesly estate, either. Mostly, though, we just didn't get to spend even close to enough time with each other. I insisted on having Dan drive her back to the Capital, but we couldn't travel together – as always, there was too much risk of being seen together, my security detail isn't subtle when I'm on the move.

So we stood in the gravel parking lot outside Annesly Hall and kissed until my dick, already raw from two days of not being able to get enough of Eva, began to stiffen again. I told her as much, leaning in and whispering in her ear.

"Don't say that," she replied quietly. "Killian, please don't say that, not when I can't take care of it for you."

I liked that – the way she seemed to naughtily enjoy taking responsibility for pleasing me. But I also knew I wasn't going to see her for at least another week, as her work and my engagements simply wouldn't allow it. "Fuck, Eva. I don't want to leave."

She smiled wistfully. "Neither do I." Then she paused briefly, obviously wanting to say more but holding back for some reason.

"What?" I asked.

"Killian, I – ugh, I'm just, God, I feel like throwing myself on the ground and screaming and holding onto your ankles like a little kid."

I smiled. "Oh yeah? What happened to all that 'it's just the weekend, let's enjoy it while we can' stuff?"

Eva looked sheepish. "That was kind of bullshit. Didn't you know that?"

"I don't know. I don't know you well enough to be able to tell when you're bullshitting me."

"It's weird, huh?" she asked. "It feels like I've known you for years. But I haven't, have I?"

Jesus, her eyes were so beautiful. Almond-shaped, the irises dark and fathomless. "No," I started, "but I feel the sa–"

"Sir!"

It was the pilot, and he was pointing at his watch expectantly. Fuck.

"You have to go," Eva said, leaning in and pressing her face into my chest, something she'd done a few times that weekend. I caressed her wild, windblown curls and kissed the top of her head.

"Yes. I'll call you – soon. OK? Actually, can you text me when you get back to the Capital? Just so I know you got back?"

"Mm-hm."

"Alright. Well." I was stalling. I knew it but I couldn't help it. "I hope you had a good time here, Eva. I wanted you to see this place."

She looked up into my eyes and giggled. "It was awful, Killian. I hated every minute of it."

"Well then I apologize for the –"

"SIR!"

It was Dan that time, raising his eyebrows at me in a get-your-shit-together way. I bent down and kissed Eva again. Then I kissed her cheeks, each one, and the tip of her nose, and her neck and her hand. Only then did I leave, running across the lawn to the helicopter pad and climbing inside.

About ten minutes into the flight the pilot took a call. I couldn't hear what was being said but when we landed he turned to me. "That was one of the King's staff, Sir. The King would like you to call him, urgently."

Fucking great. My father didn't ask me to call him urgently unless something really was urgent. I called his office in the Capital as soon as I was in the car and got Timothy Green, my father's head of staff.

"Your Highness."

"Timothy. I hear my father needs to speak to me?" You don't directly call the King of Rhenland. Even if you're his son.

"Yes. Shall I put you through?"

"What?" I asked, baffled. You also don't just get 'put through' to my father. There's all sorts of arrangements that need to be made just to speak to the man. "Uh, sure."

Seconds later, I heard the King's voice on the other end of the phone. "Killian?"

He didn't sound happy. Had something terrible happened? "Yes?"

"Killian, I'm going to need to see you tonight."

"I've got a dinner," I told him. "With the –"

"Tonight, Killian. Come straight here after your engagement. We need to talk."

"Where's here?" I asked, feeling increasingly nervous. "Are you at St. Stephen's?"

"I'm at Pritchard Palace."

Oh Christ. My father was at Pritchard Palace. He hates Pritchard Palace. He hates the downtown location, the traffic, the lack of privacy. Whatever was going on, it was serious.

"Right. I'll be there."

The King hung up without another word and my driver looked at me in the rearview mirror. 'Almost there, Sir. There's a change of clothes at the venue."

Spoiled playboy idiot or not, I do actually care about the charities I work with. When I was twenty-one I was encouraged to choose a specific few to focus on, and wildlife issues were high on the list. I don't like phoning it in, either. I know I'm there to bring publicity to a cause and that means being 'on' – smiling for the cameras, shaking hands, giving inspiring speeches. That night, I was off. I probably would have been off anyway, with the taste of Eva still on my lips, but the call with my father just made it worse. I stumbled over my words and forgot people's names and just generally came across poorly. So by the time I was walking into my apartment at Pritchard Palace in my tux, I wasn't in the greatest of moods.

My father, the King, was standing in my front room, looking out over the Palace gardens. "I don't know why you stay here," he said, turning around and eyeballing me. "This is the ugliest royal property in the Capital – that new stonework out the back really is god-awful."

He wasn't asking me a question, he was merely stating his belief that I had chosen the wrong place to live. "Sir," I greeted him, reaching out to shake his hand. He ignored it, sitting down on the sofa and nodding at me to sit down, too. When he didn't say anything, I started.

"So, what seems to be the –"

"Don't play games with me, Killian. Did you think I wouldn't find out what you were doing in Woaden this weekend?"

"I, uh –" I stammered, angry at myself for turning, once again, into a chastised little boy in my father's presence. "I was just – I needed some time off. Things have been a little hectic lately."

"Listen, Killian. We can dance around this for the next twenty minutes or you can just tell me who this girl is and why you think, after all this time, that you're going to be able to keep her hidden from the media. Or keep her from going to the media herself."

A twinge of defensiveness rose up in my chest. "It's not like that. It's not – she is not going to go to the media. She isn't going to do that."

"Oh isn't she? And how do you know that, son? You've known her for – what – a few weeks? How is it exactly that you know what she is or isn't going to do? How many times do you need to learn this lesson?"

I shouldn't have been surprised that my dad apparently knew everything about my relationship with Eva. He always knew everything. I tried to deflect. "Why does it even matter? You don't usually give me shit for the women – why are you doing it now?"

My father gave me a look like he'd just smelled something disgusting on his shoe. "Please don't talk like a commoner, Killian. It's not as clever as you think it is. It wasn't clever when you were nineteen, either, but you don't even have the excuse of youth anymore. You'll finish things with this woman at once, do you understand?"

There it was. Earlier than I thought it would come, but basically expected nonetheless. I swallowed and ran my hands through my hair, my skin prickling with anxiety. I don't defy the King. No one does. Not my mother, not my sister, not any of the courtiers or commoners or anybody. But something about the look on his face, the absolute certainty I saw in his eyes that I would obey him, just made me very angry. I took a deep breath and met my father's eyes. "No."

He wasn't expecting that. "No? Are you drunk, boy?"

"No, I'm not drunk. And no, I will not finish things with this woman. You haven't even asked me what her name is. You haven't asked me a single thing –"

"I haven't asked you a single thing about her because I never ask you a single thing about any of your girls, Killian – not until they become a problem. You're making efforts to hide this one – not just from the media but from your family and your advisors – which makes me think she might become a problem. Maybe she already is. Your mother and I have been very patient with you. I know what it's like to be a young man – especially a young man with almost unlimited access to beautiful women. We told ourselves we would let you get it out of your system, and we have. But you have to be responsible. You have to be clear with these girls that it can never be more than a dalliance. It just causes trouble for everybody when you allow the lines to blur."

The King had definitely been informed about Eva. He knew that what was going on was more than what it usually was.

"So what am I supposed to do!?" I asked. "Have a decade's worth of one night stands until you and mother basically arrange a marriage for me? Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?"

My father sighed. "No, it doesn't seem all that strange. It's what your mother and I did. It's what your sister did, more or less. Please don't play the fool with me, Killian. You know very well that whoever you marry, it's going to be about what's best for the monarchy and for Rhenland and not about who you happen to fancy the most."

He was right. I did know it – I'd known it for a long time. Being with Eva was so intoxicating it had almost allowed me to put what I knew to the side. In the past, it hadn't really bothered me, because it simply never came up. I wasn't serious about any of those girls, the daughters of Earls and Dukes and captains of industry, so it didn't matter than I couldn't commit to any of them. But I was serious about Eva and it was a problem – one I'd been doing a pretty good job of ignoring.

"I'm not here to lecture you," my father continued. "I'm just here to remind you of your duties. Even for the swathe you've cut through Rhenland's noble-born ladies, you haven't even close to met half of them. One of them will be suitable. End it with this American. The sooner you let it go on the more it's going to hurt her in the end."

That was right, too. Technically. The King got up, clearly of the opinion that he'd talked some sense into me, and fixed me with a stern look. "We'll see you at Chesston in a few weeks, I presume? It's been a couple of years since you came up for the pheasant shoot, it would be nice to see you up there again."

Chesston was a family estate in the north of Rhenland. Every fall my parents took a week there when the pheasant season opened. When Charlotte and I were children, we would often join them, but the tradition had fallen off a little lately. I nodded at my father and said something non-committal, because truthfully, I just wanted him to leave. I needed to think.

When the sound of the heavy front door slamming shut reached my ears, I flopped down on the sofa and took out my phone, bringing up a photo of Eva on the beach, smiling and wide-eyed, holding a small orange crab in her hand. I couldn't help but grin as soon as I saw her, but it soon faded. Nothing my father had said to me was wrong. He hadn't even gotten to the part where he reminded me that I needed his permission to marry. Not his emotional permission, either. His actual, legal permission. Without it I either couldn't marry or I had to give up my place in the line of succession – essentially disowning my family. That's the part that made him right, the part that meant I could never get into a serious relationship with any woman without her being a) Rhennish and from a good family and b) a prospect for marriage.

It was fucked up. It basically meant that I either had to have meaningless fling after meaningless fling – admittedly not something I'd had much of a problem with in the past – or I had to marry. There was no in-between.

There was no getting around it, either. I had to tell Eva. There was also no getting around the fact that she was going to take it as a rejection. Who wouldn't? What was I going to say? 'You're the best person I've ever met and I want to spend every moment with you - oh and also, this can never go anywhere?'

She was going to dump me when she heard that, I knew it. She was going to dump me and go through the rest of her life believing I'd never really wanted her. But what choice did I have? I could propose. I could ask her to marry me and endure the epic shit-storm that would ensue when the press and the public got wind of me removing myself from the line of succession – and from my own family. Eva liked me, I knew that. I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at me, I could feel it in the way her body softened under my touch, the way she smiled at me and laughed at my stupid jokes. But what kind of an arrogant jerk would I be to ask her to give up her job, her privacy, her entire life, just so I could get what I wanted? It didn't matter anyway, because I knew she wouldn't do it – she was too smart.

So I had to tell her. Because the King was right – the longer I let things keep developing without telling her straight that it could never be more than it was, the more she was going to hate me when I finally did. And the worst part of it all? That what I actually felt didn't matter. All I wanted was to be with her, to see where things were going, to let whatever it was that was growing between us flower into whatever it was meant to be. The fact that I couldn't do that made me very angry.

I got up off the sofa and walked out onto the balcony to get some air. A couple of gardeners were trimming hedges in Pritchard's vast grounds. I was watching them work when something Tristan had said a few months previously came to mind. He'd been drunk, as usual, calling from Spain to lament the fact that he couldn't keep seeing his Spanish girl. What was it? Something along the lines of all the holidays, all the land, all the money, all the deference of the common people being worth nothing when held up against the opportunity to simply be with the person you love. I cringed a little, remembering my response – which had been to tell him to grow up and stop thinking that life was a Disney movie.

That's karma, I guess. Now I was in exactly the same boat my friend had been in when I'd refused to give him an ounce of sympathy. Further echoing Tristan's own continuing downward spiral, I poured myself a glass of scotch and downed it in one pissed-off gulp. Then another one, until I could feel the alcohol starting to spread its warmth through my body.

It didn't help much. I still couldn't think of anything but Eva James. Where was she at that moment? What was she doing? Was she thinking about me? And did she sense what was coming – did she have a premonition of any kind that the one person on earth who wanted nothing less than to break her heart was probably going to do just that? I threw the empty glass in my hand against the wall and rolled over, falling quickly into an angry, drunken sleep.

* * *

I woke up to the first gray light of dawn filtering in through the windows and the sound of my phone ringing. It was Jason, my assistant.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I tried you last night, Sir. Just letting you know the car will be around in half an hour, you've got to be in Walsham for, uh, just let me check, eight o'clock."

Fuck. "What? What time is it right now?"

"It's almost six, Sir. It's the car today, I'm afraid."

Goddamnit. I mumbled to Jason that I'd be ready and stumbled into the shower, bleary-eyed and aching, almost like I was coming down with something. By quarter past six I was in the car, trying to convince myself it might be OK to see Eva again, before telling her what I needed to tell her. Just one more time.

It couldn't happen. I should have told her before taking her to Woaden – hell, I should have told her before taking her on the helicopter ride over the Capital. It couldn't be put off any longer. I would call her that afternoon, after my engagements in Walsham.

I was off my game again, slightly hung-over and grumpy, but I tried to listen to the people I was introduced to, look them in the eyes, give them a few minutes of my time, make getting up at God-knows-when in the morning to meet my dumb ass worth it. It was after the second event, the opening of a new rehabilitation center for disabled kids, that I sensed a weird tension in the press room. There was more whispering going on than usual, reporters looking at me expectantly. An icy wave of anxiety flashed through me as I watched people pack into the room – no way were this many journalists here to talk to me about a new rehab center. I looked to the side, craning my neck and trying to find Jason in a sea of faces. What was going on?

A woman stepped forward and addressed the press pack. "Let's keep this orderly, everyone. Please raise your hand if you have a question and the Prince will indicate who he wishes to speak to."

Just before she stepped away there was a shout to my left.

"SIR!"

It was Jason, gesturing wildly at me to leave the podium. I leaned over towards him, wondering what the hell was going on. "What is it? Why are all these –"

"Sir, if you'll just come with me. Sir, please. Killian, come with me."

Jason never gets ruffled. He also never, never calls me by my first name. I looked out at the audience again and saw a lot of red lights. The cameras were already rolling. What the fuck? And then someone was actually grabbing at my sleeve. Jason again.

"Just – uh, just a minute, folks," I said, addressing the reporters. "I'll be right back."

I followed my assistant out a side door, which he closed quickly behind us. "What the hell?" I demanded. "What's happening? Why is every reporter in Rhenland in fucking Walsham?"

Jason looked at the floor, breathing deeply. "I – I – well, Sir. They've found your, um, that girl."

"Who?" I asked. "Who found that girl? What are you talking about? Eva?"

Refusing to meet my eye, he nodded. "Yeah. The Daily News has a front page story and it's – Sir, it's not good. They've also, uh, they found her apartment and – I think it might be best if we return to the Capital right –"

"What?!" I shouted, grabbing Jason by the shoulders and forcing him to look at me. "What do you mean they found her apartment? Did they find her?"

My assistant slumped forward a little and took out his phone, handing it to me without a word. I looked down at the screen, my heart pounding. It was the front page of the shittiest tabloid in Rhenland and there was a large photo of Eva's face right in the middle of it. She looked terrified. There was also a headline. 'Playboy Prince's Dusky Beauty!' My hand started to shake as rage gripped me and I blinked a few times thinking maybe, maybe I was seeing things. I wasn't. I scrolled down below the headline and saw a black video box with a play button on it.

"We should – Sir, we should get back to the car."

I ignored Jason and tapped the screen. The video began to play. There was Eva's front door and then Eva herself, walking straight out into the jaws of a beast I knew she had no idea how to handle. I couldn't even hear what was being said, it was just a bunch of shouting and pushing. She was trying to cover her face as cameras were shoved into it and people screamed questions at her. Questions about me. I watched as her expression went from one of shock to one of fear and then, eventually, she began to cry. It was my fault, I knew that instantly. It was my fault and I wasn't in the Capital, I wasn't there to stop those fucking animals, I wasn't there to protect her. I stopped the video before it could finish and looked up.

"Who did this?"

Jason took a step back, seeing how angry I was, and help up his hands. "Sir, I don't know, this was just published, I don't –"

"WHO DID THIS?!" I bellowed, until he was practically cowering on the floor.

"I don't know, Sir. We should get back to the Capital, we need to meet with –"

"Fuck your meetings. Fuck everything." I strode past him and out towards the waiting motorcade, where Dan was waiting. As soon as he saw me he gestured at me to hurry up.

"Sir, come on. Let's go, let's go!"

I dove into the back seat and he slammed the door shut just as the media caught up with me, trying to film through the tinted windows and yelling questions.

"Get me the fuck out of here!" I barked as we swerved away from the curb and accelerated down the street, away from the reporters.

"Jesus Christ!" Dan swore under his breath as we made our escape, quickly leaving the chaos at the rehab center behind. I pulled my own phone out of my pocket and suddenly realized I had no idea what to do. Call her? No. I had to see her. I had to go to her, wherever she was. The image of her teary eyes in that video made my blood boil. Someone was going to pay for that. I was going to make someone pay for that.

"Take me to Maysbridge," I told Dan. That was Eva's neighborhood. "When we get back to the Capital again, take me there immediately."

Dan looked in the rearview mirror, as if to make sure I meant what I said. "You sure about that? I'm pretty sure your father wants to see you at –"

"Maysbridge," I repeated, and he stopped talking.

I spent the entire drive back to the Capital glued to my phone. The story was already everywhere. Even the serious papers had picked it up and splashed it all over their front pages, although they'd seen fit not to publish photos of Eva alongside it. I went back to the tabloid. 'Playboy Prince's Dusky Beauty!' I knew what that meant. Everyone in Rhenland, looking at that headline, was going to know what it meant. That's how they do it these days, isn't it? They're sneaky. They don't come right out and say it, they point it out in more subtle ways. I put my head in my hands, despairing. Eva James came to my country to learn her trade – to see a new, foreign city, to experience life. She did not come to endure barely-concealed racist taunts from tabloid gutter-dwellers. And now she was enduring it. Because of me. I forced myself to read the story, scrolling down the page until I got to what I instantly understood must have triggered the whole thing. Photos of Eva and I on the beach in St. Maves, holding hands and kissing.

"Fuck," I groaned. "I am so stupid. I am so, so fucking stupid."

"You are," Dan agreed, in a tone that didn't suggest he was joking. "I won't argue with that, Sir. But you like this one, don't you?"

"Of course I like her!" I replied, exasperated. "I'm not a fucking robot, you know. This whole 'oh you can't love this person, you can only love this other one' – what is that? Has that ever worked? Would it work if I told you that? Oh, you love your wife? Well, too bad. You have to pick someone else. Seriously, I'm asking. Would that work? Would you just stop loving her?"

Dan shook his head. "No, I can't say that I would, Sir. But I'm not the Prince of Rhenland."

"Well lucky fucking you."

By the time we got to the street Eva lived on I'd read most of the stories online. They didn't have any real information – not that it mattered, because photos of me kissing a girl on the beach were the story – but they didn't have Eva's full name yet. That was good. That was something. We pulled up in front of her apartment and Dan refused to let me get out of the car, insisting on making one of the outriders do it. I should have known she wasn't there from the lack of cameramen, but it was confirmed in a few minutes anyway, when no one answered the door. I was going to have to call her.

"Hello? Killian?"

She was scared. I heard it at once. "Eva. Tell me where you are. I am coming to get you right now."

"Did you see the news online? They were waiting for me this morning, outside my..." She broke down and I closed my eyes, raging silently that this had happened to her.

"Eva. Eva, listen to me. I am coming to get you, OK? Tell me where you are."

"I'm at work – all these reporters followed me here and now I can't leave. They're waiting for me outside. Elsa's trying to find someone to open the back door for me."

"Give me the address."

I was being short with Eva, not allowing myself to give in to my emotions because I couldn't do that yet – I couldn't do it until I was with her. Losing my shit wasn't going to do anyone any good. It was also exactly what the paparazzi wanted – photos of me snarling at them, throwing punches. I wasn't going to let it happen, not that time. Eva was the only thing that mattered. She gave me her address and I repeated it out loud so Dan could hear me.

"OK, we're on our way. You're not alone, are you? Is someone with you?"

"My friend Jane is with me. And my boss. Actually, my boss just came back – we got the back door open. And – uh, hold on... there's an alley, behind the building."

"Right. I'll call you when we get there. Be ready, OK? We have to be quick about this, because the press will recognize my motorcade."

"OK, Killian," Eva replied, her voice shaking. "Please hurry."

Ten minutes later Dan pulled up behind a green metal door in the back alley behind Eva's workplace and I jumped out, not bothering to wait, as I usually did, for the area to be secured first. Dan tried to stop me, calling out as I took the steps up to the door two at a time but I ignored him. The single thing I was focused on was getting to Eva, making sure she was OK, and getting her to a place where no one would find her. When I got to the top of the steps the door cracked open slightly for a few seconds and a blonde woman peered out.

"I'm here for Eva."

The door swung the rest of the way open and there she was, not crying anymore but puffy-eyed and scared, with an expression not unlike that of a cornered animal.

"Eva!" I looked into her eyes. "Eva, it's alright. I'm here, I'm here now. And I'm going to take you somewhere safe. Are you OK?"

As soon as she registered that it was me the tears came, overflowing down her cheeks when she blinked. Another wave of guilt washed over me. I looked up at the two women who were standing protectively on either side of Eva and introduced myself. The older one shook my hand, curtsied and told me her name was Elsa, and that she was Eva's boss. The younger one just stood there for a few seconds, her eyes wide, and then stammered out her own name – Jane – accompanied by an awkward curtsey of her own.

"The press are out front," Elsa told me. "We often have celebrities in here and we sometimes use the back door for them, so far the paparazzi don't know about it."

"Good," I replied, turning back to Eva. "Do you have everything? Your phone? Is there anything else you need?"

"Why?" she replied, sounding shell-shocked and overwhelmed.

"Because you can't go back to your place – or back here – for a few days. I'm taking you to one of my apartments in the Capital, it's secure and no one will know you're there. But we do need to leave now."

Eva looked at her boss for reassurance and Elsa smiled. "Go with him, he knows what he's doing. We have your number and you have ours, and taking a few days off sounds like the right idea. Go, Eva."

Eva exchanged hurried hugs with her boss and her friend and then let me walk her to the car, climbing into the backseat and exhaling a big, deep, shaky breath when we were finally on our way. She didn't say much during the drive, and I didn't push it. People who aren't famous don't realize how intense an experience it can be getting mobbed like that and I could see she needed a little time to just let what had happened sink in. But when we got to the apartment and I took her inside, she immediately collapsed against me, sobbing. I held her tightly, gritting my teeth against the urge to start shouting and ranting about the paparazzi because the priority at that moment was Eva – not me, not anything else. When her breathing slowed she looked up at me, her eyelashes wet with tears.

"Oh my God, Killian."

"I know. Eva, I know. Here, come on upstairs. I'll make you some tea. You're safe here, do you understand? I'll have security posted outside, we'll get you everything you need so you don't have to go out. I'm going to deal with this – I'm going to make it better."

"How are you going to do that?"

There was only one way I could deal with it, and that was with a press release. The Rhennish media aren't legally obliged to go easy on the royal family but there is a long-standing tradition that they do. Not too easy, of course, and they're constantly pushing their limits, but official royal girlfriends are treated differently to mere flings. And I knew as surely as I did that the sun was going to rise in the east the next day that they were not going to leave Eva alone if I didn't act.

I took her upstairs and set to making tea, surprised by how little I was worried about the press release. Because it was going to be a huge deal, that was a certainty, and I knew my parents were going to be very upset. It's funny, though. I've always been so worried about incurring the wrath of my father. Not that afternoon. It simply didn't matter how angry he was going to be. What mattered was Eva. What mattered was how I felt about her, and how she felt about me. It wasn't just me taking responsibility for exposing an innocent person to the pack of savages that was the Rhennish media – it was, I realized, what I wanted to do anyway. I was twenty-nine years old, a grown man, and I'd spent way too much time worrying about what everyone else was going to think. So my father could say what he was going to say, he could yell and cajole and threaten all he wanted. But none of it was going to change how I felt about Eva. I took the tea in to her feeling as if a gigantic weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

She took a quick sip and smiled sadly. "The Rhennish sure do love their tea, don't they? I swear I drank ten cups today, between my boss and Jane and everyone else at the office – they just kept taking turns to make more."

I laughed. "You're right. Honestly, we don't even think about it. Something bad happens? Make tea. Someone's upset? Make tea. World war three breaks out?"

"Make tea," Eva finished my sentence for me.

I took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Listen, Eva. I know what happened today was awful. But I'm going to do something about it. And I'll have one of my staff bring you the things you need – a toothbrush, some clothes, that sort of thing. We can –"

"Killian?" She asked, interrupting me. I didn't mind.

"What is it?"

"Do you know what I want to do right now? I'm really tired, I think I just need to take a short nap."

"Sure. Let me go make sure the bed is made."

But Eva got up and came to me, lying down beside me on the sofa and nestling her head into my chest. "I don't want to sleep in the bed. I don't want to be alone."

"OK," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "OK, baby."

She was out before I could say anything else. I looked down and felt myself flooded with a rush of tenderness. There might have been a little pride in there, too. I'd taken care of things. Not completely, not yet, and I knew I'd also helped cause the trouble in the first place, but I hadn't called anyone else to deal with it – I'd dealt with it myself. Because Eva was my girl. Because it was my job to take care of her.

Simple thoughts, maybe. But true, and revelatory in their own way. All my life people have been cleaning up my messes for me, and all my life I've been living in the shadow of my family – for better and for worse. But it was different with Eva, in a way I hadn't even fully realized until that day. I took a careful sip of tea out of her unfinished cup and smiled as she slept, wondering if she had any idea what an impact she'd already had on my life and resolving to tell her as soon as she woke up.