“She’s stunning.” I blurted the words, stopping Xander as he led us toward a set of wide double doors. He followed my line of sight, his features smooth and unreadable.

“Charlotte?” He said her name like a question.

“Yes,” I said, gaping at him. “Look at her. She looks like a queen, only less vicious than your mo—” I cut myself off, whirling my head around to make sure the queen wasn’t behind us, then quickly glanced upward in case she decided to rappel from the ceiling.

Xander chuckled, shaking his head. “Are you nervous?”

“No.” That was such a lie. My pulse raced, my hands were sweating inside the silk gloves they’d given me to match the dress, and my hair wasn’t as I would normally wear it. The two ladies who’d come to my room with dress options had made sure to do my hair in a way that wouldn’t show my colors. I would’ve rather enjoyed the process if they weren’t trying to turn me into something I wasn’t—Xander may have announced to the world that I was his girlfriend last week, but that didn’t magically turn me into a princess.

My knees wobbled at the memory of his declaration, and heat flared between my thighs. He was all in—even if for the last couple of months we had—and I really couldn’t ask more than that. He’d given me so much already.

“You’re stunning,” he said, holding my arm a bit tighter. “Though,” he said, sighing. “I do wish those colors were on your shoulders instead of hiding underneath this…knot.” He traced a finger over my cheek, and I grinned into his touch. At least we were on the same page. As usual. It would make it a thousand times harder to leave him when I had to.

“Thank you.” I smoothed my free hand over his broad chest, enjoying the feel of the luxurious fabric of his suit. “You’re enough to drive me crazy in that suit.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “And here I thought you liked me naked and wet.”

Memories of our time spent in his massive tub sent tendrils of heat down my center. My skin flushed, and I forced myself to focus.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” I worried my lip between my teeth. “I honestly have no problem staying in your room.” Hiding like a coward. That wasn’t me, but this was my first public royal event, and I wasn’t exactly on everyone’s favorite list.

“Of course,” he said. “I want you with me.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “For however long I can have you.”

I gazed up at him, wondering how words were clogging in my throat when I was paid to write them.

“Alexander.” Charlotte’s voice was as delicate as the silk gown she wore. It was white, pristine, and with a subtle sparkle like some inner light radiated her every move. “May I have a moment with Willa before we all go in?”

Xander slanted his gaze for just a moment, studying her, but I slipped my arm from his without waiting on an answer.

“We don’t need his permission,” I teased, smirking at him over my shoulder as I clicked to Charlotte. These heels would likely result with me on my face by the end of this charity event. I suppose that would be the less of all the horrible situations that could arise.

Charlotte chuckled, but the sound was more like a tinkling bell than my own loud, brash laugh. When we’d walked a good twenty feet away from Xander, leaving him to greet people as they walked through the wide double doors and into the ballroom, Charlotte turned to face me.

“You look absolutely radiant, Willa,” she said, her smile genuine. I hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her much—she was usually off with Jameson or Sophie—but there was no trace of undercutting in her tone like Xander’s mother.

“Me?” I gaped, motioning to her elegant gown. “I was just telling Xander you look stunning. I wish I had one ounce of your…grace.” I laughed but toned it down. “If only for a night like this.”

Her eyes trailed to the doors, then back to me. “It can be a little intimidating, these charity functions, because of all the important people they bring in. But you’ll do great. Alexander never does anything without thinking it through.” She glanced at him over my shoulder. “And I wanted you to know you look perfect on his arm.”

“Thanks,” I said, sighing. “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” I admitted, wishing I could make that clear, somehow. I was here for Xander, not the royal family, and luckily I hadn’t run into his betrothed. I’d almost asked him if she was following the news in her country, and how she was taking it all, but I couldn’t bring myself to ruin the little time I had left. “Though,” I continued. “I am afraid I’ll say something in there that will bring the entire castle down.”

Charlotte grinned again, her perfectly pink lips elegant and poised, but a flash of mischief crossed her eyes as she leaned closer to me. “We could use with a rebuild anyway.”

The joke eased my tension, but also made me wonder if she lived in the castle. I had never thought to ask but she did seem rather attached to the family—especially Jameson.

Xander joined me not ten seconds later, retaking my arm. “So?” He asked when I hadn’t said anything.

“I think I’m in love.”

He stopped our progress to the room, jerking to such a halt I nearly slipped off the damned heels. His face was frozen, his eyes wide and churning. A laugh ripped from my lips at the realization, and a full on snort followed.

Whoops.

“With Charlotte,” I said through my laughs. I playfully smacked his chest. “Breathe.”

He forced a smile, something I’d only ever see him do when he switched into full Prince mode and shook out his locked muscles.

“She’s wonderful,” he said as we continued our walk.

“You’re always surrounded by wonderful people, it seems,” I said, gasping slightly as we finally entered the grand ballroom.

A hush quieted in the surroundings as if everyone in the room had a sixth sense about when the prince was within hearing distance. Maybe they were used to looking for royalty. I tried not to squirm as hundreds of eyes cast their gaze on me—judging, apprising, laughing—all silently, of course.

I’d endured signings before—rooms full of strangers dying to get you to sign their books—but they were never dressed in ball gowns and suits and jewels. And they never acted as if I was a blemish on some pristine painting.

Xander navigated us to a circular table at the head of the room, the gorgeous royal blue linens almost glittering under the candles that rested in their centers. A string quartet played gentle classics from a stage in the corner of the room, next to an opened space for dancing, though no one was.

We took our seats, and I smiled at Charlotte, then Jameson, then Sophie, and attempted to smile at his mother, but she wouldn’t look me in the eye. The second I sat, she excused herself, claiming to have someone important to speak with. She probably did, but I doubted that was why she left like someone had lit a fire under her.

My shoulders dropped momentarily, but I forced them to straighten as guest after guest approached the table in pairs to compliment the prince on such a wonderful event. After twenty minutes, my cheeks hurt from keeping the smile in place for so long. I don’t know how Charlotte and Sophie managed it. If Xander took me to any more public events like this, I’d have to ask them for some tips.

When a lull presented itself in the guest appearances at the table, Xander’s hand found my thigh under the table. The touch was innocent and encouraging, but flames licked my skin, and I instinctively turned closer to him. He smiled at me, removing his hand to shake another’s. I missed his touch, my blood pumping hot and fast at the too quick tease.

Scanning the faces around me, I made sure no one saw as I slipped my fingers over his thigh. He stiffened, but only for a moment, before he resumed conversation. I ventured higher, palming the crease next to his manhood, brushing the area with a feather light touch. A muscle in his jaw ticked as I grew bolder, trailing the tips of my fingers over the outline of his rapidly growing cock. I arched a brow at him, shocked that a few simple touches could merit this reaction. The thought alone made me slick between the thighs, and I suddenly forgot why we’d had to attend this event in the first place.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Collins,” a man said, his clear blue eyes locked on mine. I jolted at the sound of my name and discreetly removed my hand from Xander’s hard cock.

“And you,” I said, not having a clue who the man was. He looked like a model, his blond hair falling perfectly over his forehead.

“Willa,” Xander said, a gruffness to his voice that promised pleasure later. “This is Prime Minister Damian McAllister.”

“Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand as he took an opened seat across from us. Holy Alexander Skarsgård vibe. What the hell did they put in the water over here? I knew why there was a shortage of hot men in Upstate New York. They were all in Elleston.

“I heard a rumor Princess Brie had returned, but I don’t see her,” he said, glancing around before focusing on Xander again.

“She’s not feeling well,” Sophie answered.

“I need a drink.” Jameson got up from the table, disappearing into the crowd despite the waiters hovering around our table ready to serve.

Awkward. I sharpened my gaze on the Prime Minister, wondering what power he held to ruffle the royals so much.

“That’s a shame,” Damian said. “I would’ve loved to get her take on the Anti-Monarchists and their recent…protests.”

Xander shifted in his seat, but his features were clear, even. “I’ll be sure to tell her you’d like a meeting.”

Damian smiled, and the grin was downright wolfish. He cut his eyes to me as he swirled the clear liquid in his glass. “What is your take on it, Willa?”

“I’m sorry?” I said, glancing to Xander before straightening to look at Damian again.

“On the ri…the protests? I’m interested to hear an American’s take on the actions against the royal family.”

I shifted slightly in my seat. Xander had briefly spoken of the monarchists, but nothing tangible enough for me to form an opinion beyond the whole...I’m Team Xander. He’d said it was nothing to worry about.

“I don’t know enough about the movement to make a statement,” I said.

He furrowed his brow. “This isn’t a press conference.”

No, but he was the Prime Minister, and power radiated off of him almost as much as it did Xander.

“What’s your point?” Xander asked, the tone in his voice sharp.

Damian raised his glass innocently. “Americans. I find them fascinating.” He whistled. “Curiosity isn’t a crime.”

The tension at the table was tightly weaving around my lungs, dangerously close to making me lose the fun, teasing I’d had with Xander seconds before.

“What do you find so amusing about Americans?” I asked, a grin on my lips. Perhaps I could steer the conversation to something easier, like books or music or my penchant for deep fried food.

“Oh, plenty of things,” he said, his voice curling around every word in a near seductive way. Bodies were starting to gather around our table, but I wasn’t sure if it was simply because it was the royal table or if it was because the Prime Minister was there. I hated feeling out of sorts in my own body. It wasn’t something I was used to. I operated on a non-filter policy and yet here I was afraid of every word I spoke. “How do you feel about choosing your own leaders?”

“The vote?” I asked, wishing he’d gone with the fried food category instead. I could talk about that stuff for hours. I shrugged when he nodded. “It’s nice having the right.”

Sophie’s mouth dropped before she quickly closed it, and Charlotte flinched before smoothing her features. Xander stiffened beside me, but his lethal gaze was on Damian. A collective gasp rang behind me, and I finally glanced over my shoulder to see half the party had tuned into our conversation, the Queen Mother one of them. Something like victory and utter defeat flashed in her eyes, and it was in that moment I realized all my worst fears about tonight had come true.

Whatever I’d done, it was undoable.

“I mean,” I said, trying terribly to recover. “That’s how it’s been since I was born. I wouldn’t know of any other way—”

“Yes, but you support the people’s right to choose.” Damian cut me off. “Some people here would call that—”

“Ms. Collins is in support of what has kept her country in accordance with its Constitution since before she was born,” Charlotte said, talking over him. Her voice projected in a powerful way that couldn’t be ignored, yet it was soothing, calming, comforting. She eyed the crowd behind us before focusing on Damian. “In both respects, America and Elleston are operating in the way their ancestors have for generations. All working to better their given people. In ways, the American election of a President is equal to our election of a Prime Minister. We all vote for who will lead us.”

A murmuring rumbled through the crowd, along with a great deal of head nodding. Conversations resumed, and I flashed her a grateful look for the save. I would forever be in her debt. After a few minutes, I scooted away from the table, excusing myself.

I hurried as fast as I could in the heels, out the doors, and then through another set, desperate for the fresh air outside. The ballroom may be huge, but it was stuffy as hell. And it wasn’t my scene. At all.

I stopped on the sidewalk, vaguely aware of a guard following me. I ignored him, my breaths coming faster and faster as I paced, the black fabric of my gown flowing from the breeze I created.

Xander was worth it. I knew that with certainty, but I would never fit in here. Not that I was hoping for a miracle, and I somehow got to keep him for my own—as my heart constantly liked to tease me with the fantasy—but it simply couldn’t happen. I wasn’t bred for this life, and I nearly stated that I supported the Anti-Monarchists with the way I answered Damian’s question back there.

Damnit. He’d baited me, but it wouldn’t be the last time. Not just for him, but for anyone who saw me as an easy target. A way to hurt Xander, make him look bad in the eyes of the public.

Fuck. I was ruining his life.

I continued walking, no clear destination in mind, just the need for more air. Like I couldn’t get enough outside. I needed to leave. I was only hurting his image…

Something jerked on my heel, tugging me to an abrupt stop.

I groaned, smacking my hands against my thighs.

“This is why I don’t wear heels!” I snapped to no one, the irrational anger over getting stuck in a grate the perfect outlet for the confliction inside me. I tugged on my ankle, but the damn thing didn’t budge.

I moved to unstrap the pump, wondering how much this would cost the crown.

“In a tight spot?” Xander’s voice smoothed over me like liquid honey, and I almost wanted to cry the relief was so sweet.

“Seems a habit of mine,” I said as he came around to stand in front of me. I swallowed back the tears that worked their way up my throat. I was an emotional wreck, the battle between wanting to be with him and not wanting to ruin his life raging war inside my soul.

“I’m no knight,” he said, slowly bending on one knee, his hands warm and gentle around my ankle. “But I would like this opportunity to save you for once.”

I laughed, my eyes glittering as I looked down at him. He was constantly getting on his knees for me, and I couldn’t get enough of it. He wiggled the heel in the grate, gentle with my leg until finally it popped free. He reached up to take my hand, steadying me from the quick release.

“Better?”

I grinned down at him. “You’re my hero.”

A flash popped, illuminating our thought-to-be-private scene.

Xander was on his feet in seconds, wrapping me in his arms as he whisked us back toward the building.

I couldn’t escape the vultures inside or out, and I was devastatingly aware of the fact that as long as I was by Xander’s side…he wouldn’t either.