Rose woke and stretched, then looked over at the space beside her. Diego was gone. She wasn’t sure if she should be upset that he hadn’t woke her first, or touched that he’d let her sleep after their long night.

She stared at the ceiling and smiled. First Diego, then the support of his brother . . . for the first time, she felt as if things might actually fall into place.

That she might actually be able to be with Diego. A bloody prince, for God’s sake! She giggled a little and rolled herself up in the covers, indulging in a few moments of girlish triumph. But the truth was, the prince thing just felt weird. She’d discovered the Navarro family to be kind, generous, and hardworking. Certainly they lived according to their status, but there was no extravagance simply for showing off. The qualities of honor, duty, and loyalty to the family were threads that kept everything together.

It was a privilege to work here. And a dream come true to be loved by a man like Diego. That they might have a future . . .

She couldn’t wait to see him later, but first she had the children to tend to. She got out of bed and hit the shower, then dressed and prepared to take the children downstairs for breakfast. Rose thought she noticed some strange looks headed her way from some of the staff, but she ignored them for the moment. It had probably got around that she’d danced with Diego last night. Sitting with the children at a banquet was different than dancing with a prince, after the children had gone to bed. As Raoul had assured her, they’d come up with a plan.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that she wondered if something was wrong. Clouds had swept in during the late morning, and now a low rumble of thunder and the threat of rain kept them indoors. Normally Diego would pop by to see Emilia and Max shortly before two o’clock, but as the minutes ticked by and he didn’t arrive, a sense of unease put her nerves on edge. At three Max fell asleep watching a movie and Emilia looked to be right behind him, as they’d had a later night than usual at their father’s party. Their tea arrived, carried by Ernestina. The maid smiled tightly and put the tray on the table, but Rose reached out and touched her wrist.

“Ernestina, is there something going on? We’ve hardly seen a soul all day.” She swallowed and met the maid’s eyes bravely. “Is there . . . any gossip I should be aware of?”

That the maid hesitated spoke volumes.

“What is it?” She looked over at the children. They had both nodded off and wouldn’t hear any details.

“This morning’s paper. You haven’t seen it?”

Rose shook her head, wishing she didn’t have such a heavy sense of dread. “We went to breakfast but I didn’t see a paper, and we’ve stayed inside most of the day because of the weather.”

“It . . . oh, Miss.” Ernestina looked genuinely distressed. “None of the staff believes any of it. Just remember that when you see it.”

“When I see what, Ernestina.” She didn’t bother to phrase it as a question; instead the words came out forceful and frustrated.

When the maid didn’t answer, Rose let out a huge sigh. “Please stay with the children for a few minutes,” she instructed. “I’ll explain to the Senora Romero so you don’t get into trouble, and be back as soon as I can.”

“But Miss Rose—”

She didn’t wait to hear Ernestina’s protests. The atmosphere had seemed oddly strained and clearly she wasn’t imagining things. The first thing she needed was a newspaper to see what all the fuss was about. Then she’d figure out why Diego had avoided her all day. Her heart chilled for a moment. He’d said he loved her last night. She’d believed him. She’d been right to, hadn’t she?

The office area was quiet, and Rose went to Camila’s office first, searching for Diego. But his assistant was on the phone, and she looked alarmed when she saw Rose standing in the doorway. She held up one finger, but Rose waved her off and headed to Stephani’s desk.

Stephani was focusing on her computer monitor when Rose approached, and the same look of alarm crossed her features before she consciously smoothed it away. More worrisome to Rose was the flash of sympathy on the other woman’s face.

“Stephani,” Rose said carefully. “Camila is on the phone. Is Diego in?”

“I’m sorry, no.”

The dread tightened into a painful ball in the center of her chest. “And Raoul?”

“With the king, in Alexander’s office.”

“Steph, what’s going on? Everyone’s looking at me sideways today. Diego hasn’t been to visit the children, and I know something’s wrong. What could have happened between last night and this morning?”

The look of pity was back, and Stephani handed over a copy of the newspaper.

The ball of dread, along with all the feeling in her body, seemed to drop right to her feet. She knew right away the moment the photo had been taken. When Raoul had hugged her in the garden, and then kissed her cheek. Her face wasn’t visible, but his was, if a bit grainy. And there was the stupid ponytail that she’d pulled her hair into before going out to the gardens.

She read the headline and wasn’t sure if she wanted to weep or ball up the paper and heave it into the trash where it belonged.

“Everyone’s seen it?” Her voice came out sort of strangled, and she cleared her throat.

“Yes.”

“And they think that I . . .” Oh Lord. Did the staff really believe she was fooling around with Raoul? It was Diego who’d captured her heart. Ernestina had said not, but . . .

“You need to speak with Raoul and the king,” Stephani advised in a low voice.

“But Diego . . .”

“Diego isn’t here, Rose. He’s gone.”

The cold feeling rushed back, and she actually felt herself weave a little bit. She put her hand on the side of the desk for support.

Stephani got her a chair and sat her in it, then brought her a glass of water. “Don’t say anything more here,” she said quietly.

“Why not?”

“Take a look at that picture again, Rose. Then maybe you’ll understand. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

Rose looked at the photo again. It wasn’t a great picture, and enlarged it was indeed quite grainy. With her back to the lens, her identity was shielded to anyone who didn’t know her.

With her back to the lens. But her back had been toward the castle wall . . .

She looked up at Stephani. “Oh. I see.”

“I thought you might. Come with me, please.”

She led Rose to the king’s office, which was even grander than Raoul’s. Intimidated and unsure of herself, Rose stepped inside and dropped into a curtsy.

“Good afternoon, Rosalie. Please, come in and sit down.” Alexander swept a hand out and gestured toward a tufted chair to the side of his massive desk.

It was like being called to the headmaster’s office.

“Don’t be afraid,” Raoul said gently, and she belatedly noticed him standing beside a bookcase. “None of this is your fault. You were caught in the crossfire, and we’ll make sure you come out of it unscathed.”

Slightly reassured, she perched on the edge of the velvet upholstery. “I am so sorry,” she breathed, looking first at Alexander and then at Raoul. “Last night—“

“Last night you were a friend when I needed one. I don’t usually have that much to drink, and you listened to me and helped me inside. I’m indebted to you, Rose, not angry.”

He was using her first name. That, too, was reassuring.

“The photo,” she said carefully. “It was taken from inside the castle, wasn’t it? Not with some huge telephoto lens from the paps.”

Alexander nodded gravely. “Yes. We’re not sure if it was one of the staff or someone hired for the event who hadn’t left yet.” He frowned. “If it was someone here, within our household, this might not be the end of it. There’s more story to sell, you see.”

“More?” She tilted her head. “You don’t think the insinuation and photo was enough?”

Raoul came over and took the seat next to her. “They would have seen your face, Rose.”

And her identity, so they could feed the tabloids more and more. That she was the children’s nanny. Perhaps even her relationship with Diego. They’d been discreet but not invisible. “I should resign,” she said quickly. “Then the story will go away.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Alexander said.

She looked into the older man’s face. It was clear where his sons got their good looks, and the determined set of his jaw was very much like Diego’s when he got something in his mind and wouldn’t let go. “I appreciate that, sir, but for Emilia and Max’s sake, maybe it would be for the best.”

“And take away another person they’ve come to love? I think not. We’ll handle this the way we always handle things in our family. Head-on.”

Raoul nodded. “We’re looking at all the time stamps for vehicles leaving the grounds after two a.m. There aren’t many. Stephani is also checking logs with Marco, as he and his staff did stay on duty until the last guest had gone.”

“But it doesn’t make the story disappear. And it doesn’t explain why Diego isn’t here, either.” She checked herself and met the king’s gaze. “I apologize, sir. I seem to have abandoned the proper protocol.”

His gaze softened and she would swear he got the same sympathetic look that Stephani had given her only a few minutes earlier. “Rose, it’s no secret to either of us that you and Diego have formed an attachment.”

Her cheeks flamed.

“None of us can control who we love. No one knows that better than I. Even when it makes life ten times more complicated.”

“I see.”

“Diego has left for Africa. There’s been an ongoing issue with one of his charities that needs his attention, and he also has a friend meeting him there. Ryan.”

She scrambled through her memories of their chats. Ryan—his mate from universitywho got him in and out of scrapes. “I know who you mean. But why Ryan?”

“To bury the story,” Raoul said. “Didn’t he explain before he left?”

“I haven’t seen or spoken to him all day. Not since . . .” She swallowed, realizing she was speaking to King and Crown Prince and not just brother and father. “Not since before I saw you in the garden.”

Alexander and Raoul shared a look.

Then Raoul turned to her with that same pitying expression and the ball of dread bounced back.

“To bury the story, he’ll create a new story, Rose. He’ll put himself front and center and take the focus off of me and Marazur.”

“With . . . Ryan.”

“With Ryan, and very likely a few lovely ladies in a very public place.”

She pictured it and felt a little sick to her stomach. Just last night he’d said he loved her. Over the last few weeks, he’d convinced her that she made him a better man. That his reckless days were behind him and he wanted to be taken seriously. Now he was going to flaunt himself around on a whole other continent as if she meant nothing.

“He’ll hide your scandal by creating one of his own.”

“Exactly.” Raoul leaned forward, looking into her eyes. “It’s just for show, you know. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you before he left, but I know he loves you very much.”

She sat quietly for a few minutes. First of all, imagining him living it up at some exotic club with an exotic woman was like taking her biggest insecurity and stabbing her in the heart with it. And even if it was for “show,” as Raoul put it, she knew that he’d be back to square one, at least publicly, in shedding his bad-boy-prince image. It would be a hit to their relationship . . . if they even truly had one.

Because what hurt the most was that he’d gone without saying a word to her. Without letting her in on the plan, without consulting with her, without saying goodbye.

As if she wasn’t important enough to say goodbye to.

“I should get back to the children,” she said quietly. “I ordered one of the maids to stay with them until I returned. She’ll probably get in trouble with the housekeeper.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Raoul assured her.

“Rose,” Alexander said, “let’s keep this meeting between us, shall we? Until we find out where the picture came from? Our entire household staff signs a confidentiality agreement, as you know. It’s possible someone has violated those terms. Keep it between Raoul and Stephani and myself, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” She looked at Raoul and felt her temper rise a bit. “I can’t imagine who would want to hurt you or the children after all you’ve been through. It’s despicable.”

“I agree. That’s why they need you, Rose. And I’m truly, truly sorry that you’ve been put in the middle of our family drama.”

She lifted her chin, indignation a welcome reprieve from the self-pity that had threatened her moments before. “I was already in the middle, sir, when I . . . when we . . . well, you know what I’m trying to say, I’m sure. Please excuse me. I’ll have the children ready for dinner shortly.”

“Thank you, Rose.”

She left the office and shut the door behind her, then let out a long, slow breath. Stephani came around the corner, and they shared a look that Rose translated as “what an ungodly mess.”

“You’re okay?” Stephani asked.

She wasn’t, not really. Not when she thought about Diego leaving without a word. There had to have been a better way to deal with the situation than to go to another continent and then head off to the nearest club to party it up.

Maybe he did find her dull. Maybe he missed the freedom he’d always enjoyed. Maybe she’d known better all along and had ignored those little voices because she’d so desperately wanted him to mean what he said.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied, straightening her spine. “I’ve got to get back to the children.” She was halfway to the exit when she turned back. “Oh, Stephani, about the dress last night. What should I do with it?”

“Keep it.” Stephani smiled at her. “You looked lovely.”

But she didn’t want to keep it or even look at it again. It was a reminder of too many things. “I don’t have any use for it again,” she said quietly. “Perhaps you could . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what people usually do with these things.”

“Just put it in the garment bag for now and we’ll worry about it later,” she advised.

“All right.”

And then she made the long walk back to the nursery, relieved Ernestina, and got the children ready for the family dinner. Once they were delivered to the dining room, she went to the kitchen and got her own supper, but took it to her room to eat privately. Went through the motions of retrieving the children and getting them ready for bed.

And still no word from Diego. No call, no text, no . . . nothing.

She crawled beneath her covers and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She would simply get on with things, like she always did. The way she should have from the beginning. She’d put money in Hayley’s account for Alice. She’d write charming letters to her parents about how wonderful her life was. She’d send birthday and anniversary cards and presents because she never forgot anyone’s special occasion.

But she would not cry for herself. And she certainly wouldn’t cry over Diego Navarro.