I stare at Leo in shock, my heart racing. “You want me to do what?”

“I want you to stay at Helios, at least until the media tour is over, and the paparazzi move on to the next story.”

Silently, I berate myself for thinking—for just a split second—that Leo meant something more when he said, I want you to stay with me.

“It’s the best solution,” Leo says before adding, “The only solution, really.”

I realize staying with my parents or Cassie is not an option. If the media was able to track down my address, it won’t be long before they find out where the rest of my family resides.

The thought of living with the royal family—even temporarily—makes my stomach twist into knots. While I enjoyed tea with Queen Eleanor and Prince Marco, it’s not something I want to do every day. I would never be able to relax and just be myself. I would always worry about saying or doing the wrong thing.

“I can stay in a hotel,” I suggest. “If I use an assumed name, no one will know I’m there.”

Leo shakes his head. “You’ll be safer at Helios.”

Although I know he’s right, I’m still not happy about it. I give him a brief nod of acquiescence, and he immediately presses the intercom and directs Roche to return to Helios.

I pluck my phone from the side pocket of my purse and send a brief text to my parents and Cassie, letting them know that I’ve been outed as the recipient of the prince’s liver and that I’ll be staying at Helios until things calm down, whenever that is.

“What do you want to do about your shop?” Leo asks. “I’m sure paparazzi are camped out in front of it too.”

I grimace. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind.” I drop my head back against the cushion and close my eyes. “July is a slow month. No weddings. No big events. I do have some orders for birthday and anniversary bouquets. I don’t know how I’ll fill them if I can’t get into my shop.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Leo replies, supremely confident as only a prince can be.

As I’m a small business owner, my flower shop is my livelihood. If it’s not open, I’m not making any money. In fact, I’m actually losing money on rent, utilities, and inventory.

When I was too sick to work, my assistant manager kept the business running smoothly and profitably. Without her, I would’ve lost a pile of cash.

As I think of all the flowers stored in the refrigerators at my shop, the knots in my stomach pull tighter. In a few days, the petals will dry up and the leaves will turn brown, and I’ll be stuck with a bill from my wholesaler that I’ll have to pay from the store’s rainy-day fund.

And with no income from my shop, I’ll have to dip into my savings to pay my monthly expenses. I’ve always been careful with my money, and my savings account is healthy enough, but it won’t take long to burn through it.

We ride in silence for a few minutes before Leo says, “I’m sorry, Tessa.”

My eyes fly open, and I jerk my head toward him. That’s the last thing I expected him to say.

“What are you sorry about?” I ask warily, hoping that he’s not referring to us having sex.

“Everything.”

Bile burns the back of my throat. “Could you be more specific?”

“I’m the reason paparazzi are camped out in front of your apartment building.” He sighs. “Your life is in complete disarray because of me.”

I stare at him, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “You can’t be serious. You are the reason I’m alive.” I angle my body toward him. “I have a life because of you. It might not be perfect right now, but I have one ... because of you.”

I place my hand on top of his, where it’s resting on his thigh. “If not for you, I would be dead, Leo.”

He turns his hand over so our palms align. “I can’t bear to think about that.”

“You saved me, and I’m so grateful to you.” I stare into his dark eyes. “I’ve said this before: I’ll never be able to repay you for what you did for me.”

His mouth tightens, and he slips his hand out from under mine. “I don’t—”

Roche’s voice cuts him off. “Sir?”

Leo takes a deep breath. I can tell he’s irritated by the interruption. When he closes his eyes, I get the feeling that he’s counting to ten.

Finally, he says, “What is it, Roche?”

“Shall I phone ahead and request that a suite be prepared for Miss Lulach?”

“Yes.” Leo opens his eyes. “I want her in the Theia suite.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir,” Roche replies.

I wonder why Leo wants me in that particular suite. Before I can ask, he says, “Are you familiar with Greek mythology?” 

Baffled by the non sequitur, I reply, “Somewhat.”

“The suites at Helios get their names from Greek mythology. Helios was the titan who drove the chariot of the sun across the sky each day. Theia was his mother.”

I nod in understanding. “And what about your suite? What is it called?”

“Only the guest suites have formal names. We recently refurbished the Theia suite. I think you’ll be quite comfortable there.”

“Is it close to yours?”

The question slips past my lips before I can catch it, and an embarrassed flush climbs from my chest to my cheeks.

“Yes.”

He directs his gaze toward the window, and I hear him whisper under his breath: Too close.

*****

LEO AND I GET BACK to Helios just after eight o’clock, and he takes me directly to the Theia suite. He wasn’t lying when he said it was close to his—it’s right across the hall.

After giving me a brief tour, he shows me how to call the kitchen to request a dinner tray and tells me he’ll see me later, after he takes care of “several important tasks.” He leaves me standing in the middle of the living area, which is bigger than my entire two-bedroom apartment in Albee.

The Theia suite is decorated in shades of gold, from the palest straw to the deepest amber. The wood floors are stained a honeyed hue and scattered with area rugs, all of which I’m sure are priceless heirlooms. 

Everything is lovely and inviting, yet I don’t feel entirely comfortable here. It’s too perfect, and I don’t have any belongings with me, not even a toothbrush or a change of clothing.

I decide to deal with that inconvenience later. So much happened today it’s hard to take it all in, and saying I’m exhausted is a definite understatement.

I consider calling down for dinner but choose to indulge in a soak in the massive bathtub first. I’m sticky and sore from my activities in the maze and the limo.

I cross the living area and enter the bedroom, which boasts the largest, tallest bed I’ve ever seen. It’s piled high with pillows and a silky-looking duvet the color of gold bullion. I’m relieved to see a step stool at the base of the bed because I don’t think I could get on it without a running jump and maybe a handspring too.

The en-suite bathroom is fit for royalty, which makes sense, given who lives here. When Leo showed it to me earlier, I had to swallow my gasp of awe.

The walk-in shower is impressive, tiled with gold-veined white marble, but the sunken tub receives all my adoration. Created from the same marble, it could easily fit four people. Tonight, though, it’s a party of one.

I do a little exploring and find several fluffy white towels, an equally fluffy white robe, and a bottle of bubble bath. What more could a girl ask for?

A few minutes later, I’m neck deep in pear-scented bubbles. The hot water is doing its job, soothing my aching muscles and the tender flesh between my legs.

I lean my head back against the rim of the tub and study the mural on the ceiling. It depicts a guy in a white toga with a sun-like halo around his head. He’s driving a gold chariot pulled by four winged horses. 

As I stare at the sun-gold Helios—I assume that’s who he is—I admit that I’m purposely distracting myself so I don’t think about Leo. I need to add “Have sex with a member of Alsania’s royal family” to my list of things I never expected to do but somehow ended up doing.

The list is getting longer by the day. It includes things such as: “Have an allergic reaction to antibiotics” and “Undergo transplant surgery.” I should probably add “Be stalked by the paparazzi.” 

My life as I know it—my life as a nobody—is over. I will no longer be able to live a life of anonymity, but if that’s the price I have to pay to live ... to have a life ... I will pay it willingly.

From now until the end of time, I’ll be known as the woman who got a piece of Prince Leo of Alsania’s liver. It will be the first thing that pops up when someone types my name into a search engine. My name will forever be connected to his.

For me, my connection to Leo goes beyond names and essential organs. Even before the surgery, I felt an inexplicable connection to him.

Would I have felt that way about him if we’d met under normal circumstances? Maybe. I really don’t know.

The question is pointless though. Leo and I didn’t meet under normal circumstances like a charity auction, a museum exhibit, or a gourmet food festival. We met in a hospital. It wasn’t a “meet cute” like the ones you see in the movies. It was a “meet during liver failure,” which is decidedly not cute.

My bath water is lukewarm now, and most of the bubbles have disappeared, leaving behind just a bit of foam. I narrow my eyes until I can see the small clock on the vanity. Realizing I’ve been in the tub for nearly two hours, I reluctantly step out and head to the shower to rinse off.

After washing my hair, I dry off with one of the soft towels and comb my fingers through my hair. It’s going to be wild and frizzy without any product to control the curls.

As I shrug on the oversized robe, I abruptly realize that I don’t have my antirejection medications with me. My chest tightens with a toxic mix of fear and anxiety. Missing a dose could cause serious problems with my transplant.

I rush out of the bathroom and hurry into the living area, where I left my phone. I scoop it up, ready to call someone ... but who, exactly?

No pharmacies are open this time of night. Even if they were, the average pharmacy doesn’t stock all my medication.

My parents and Cassie have keys to my apartment, but it’s surrounded by paparazzi that would likely recognize them. They would have to push their way through the crowd and then drive all the way out to Helios. I really don’t want to impose on them like that, even though I know they’d be happy to do it.

The only other solution is to ask Leo to send a member of his staff to my place. That’s probably the best course of action.

It seems silly to send him a text when I could just walk across the hall and talk to him in person, but I’m wearing a robe and nothing else. Just as I start typing out a message, I hear a knock on the door.

I hurry over to it. “Who is it?” I demand suspiciously. 

I asked out of habit, and now I feel ridiculous. I’m in the royal residence, probably the safest place in the entire country.

Through the solid wooden door, I hear Leo’s muffled voice. “It’s just me, Tessa.”

I smile a little, thinking of the heir to Alsania’s throne describing himself as just me. There’s nothing just about Leo.

I start to unlock the door but hesitate when I remember what I’m wearing ... or not wearing, rather. Then I shake my head in exasperation. He’s seen me at my worst—dressed in a hospital gown with greasy hair and jaundiced skin. Not to mention the fact that we had loud, mind-blowing sex earlier today.

It’s a little too late for propriety, Tessa.

I fling open the door. “Hi, Leo. What brings you by?”