Chapter 8

Tamara

“Good morning!” Jo trilled, setting a cup of coffee on my bedside table.

I cracked open an eyelid and swiveled my gaze to the alarm clock. I groaned.

“Jo, my alarm doesn’t go off for another half an hour.”

“I know, but I thought it might be nice to wake up to a nice hot cup of coffee and your sister’s charming smile.”

“You’ve been here over a week,” I muttered. “The fact that you haven’t overcome your jet lag yet is ridiculous. Stop napping.”

“What else am I supposed to do while you’re at work all day?” She stuck out her bottom lip.

I closed my eyes. “I don’t know, Jo, maybe go explore one of Europe’s most fascinating capital cities? Surely you didn’t come all the way here just to annoy me awake every morning.”

“Someone’s grumpy.”

“Someone was supposed to get another half hour of sleep!”

Jo flung the blankets off me and I growled menacingly.

“Let’s get up and have coffee together,” she said. “You’re awake now. May as well go with it.”

I sighed. Not much I could do to argue with that. If I went back to sleep I’d only end up waking up even more tired. I reluctantly sat up and opened my eyes. Weak sunlight poured through my bedroom window, and outside a blackcap chirped merrily.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.

I joined Jo in the kitchen with my cup of coffee, and she made us both scrambled eggs while I told her about the day ahead. We also made plans to go see some sights over the weekend.

I was early to work, and in a good mood to boot. I hummed happily to myself as I mounted the steps to my trailer, and when I opened the door the smell of fresh flowers twirled itself around me.

Wait. Fresh flowers?

Over on the table next to the couch stood a beautiful bouquet of blood-red roses. It was huge. It was also a surprise. I hadn’t ordered any flowers, nor did I expect to receive any. What the hell?

I read the note attached to the stems. “From your secret admirer.”

Oh, brother. I didn’t have to use much brainpower to figure out who that might be.

Frustration chipped away at my good mood. It was hard enough turning the prince down the first time, and now he was sending me flowers? The nerve.

I grabbed the bouquet and strode outside to the big green dumpster, tossing the flowers in. The lid slammed shut with a clang.

“I think that was a bit dramatic.”

I spun to find Alexander behind me, a cocky smile firmly in place on his perfect mouth. His hair ruffled in the light breeze, sunlight causing his eyes to glitter. The photography department would kill for a shot like this.

“What are you doing here?” My accusing tone didn’t budge his smile even a little. “I thought I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“You did tell me that,” he said, sidling up to me. The closer he got, the harder I found it to breathe.

“Only problem was, I found it hard to believe you.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” I retorted.

The scent of his spicy cologne mixed with the fresh spring air enticingly. I wanted to bury my nose in his shirt.

“It is a problem, that’s for sure.” Alexander bent his face toward mine, leaving little space between us. “Tamara, please give me a chance. My ego agrees that I should back off, but I can’t.”

I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. Alexander pounced to beat me to the punch.

“I know, I know. You don’t want anything flashy or public, and I respect that and I promise you don’t have anything to worry about,” he said. “Just come on one date with me. If you don’t want to see me again after that, fine. I’ll leave it alone. No flowers. No visits.”

I bit my lip and stared at him. I couldn’t deny the offer had its appeal. Most of the reason I didn’t want anything to do with him was because I couldn’t bear the publicity it would bring, not when I was still so raw from what happened with Michael. I also didn’t want to become just another of the prince’s conquests, but something told me there was more to him than I thought.

Plus, how many times does a girl get begged out on a date by a prince? His ego might be suffering, but mine was so big I’d never get back in my trailer.

“Fine, okay,” I said.

Alexander flashed a set of perfectly straight teeth. “Excellent. Are you free tonight?”

I was supposed to make dinner with my sister, but after rudely waking me up this morning, letting me go out on a date with a sexy prince was the least she could do.

“Free as a bird,” I replied.

Alexander grabbed my hand, kissing the knuckles. My knees turned to gelatin and I had to tighten my thighs to keep standing.

“Give me your number and I’ll text you the details.”

I did, and we parted ways. Him, walking like he owned the ground beneath him, which I suppose he did. And me, staring in awe at the dark-haired god who might very well be my undoing.

That night, I showed up to a small Italian restaurant just outside the city center, still wondering if I’d made the right choice. It was simpler than what I expected, and I almost called Alexander to see if I was at the right place. Then the door swung open, and there he was.

“Find the place okay?” he asked, guiding me inside.

The dining room was small, with only a few wooden tables and dim light from the chandelier above. There wasn’t another soul in sight. It may not have been what I expected, but it was perfect.

“Yeah,” I answered. “My question is, how did you find this place? It hardly seems like the kind of place the royal family would frequent.”

Alexander chuckled and pulled out a chair for me at a table in the middle of the room. “You’re not wrong. My best friend Teddy found it for me. He knows everyone in this part of the city.”

I sat, nodding my head in thanks. “He sounds like a real mover and shaker.”

“He’s a hair dresser,” Alexander said, taking the seat opposite me. “He loves it. He gets to talk all day nonstop.”

Footsteps heralded the arrival of our waiter, who set down menus in front of us and disappeared as quickly as he came. I scanned the menu, digesting the concept that the Prince I was out on a date with had a friend who was a barber. Alexander was turning out to be full of surprises.

After ordering our drinks and meals, there was nothing left between us but table and I forced myself to look into my date’s eyes. Candlelight flickered over his skin, casting shadows on his strong chin and aquiline nose.

“I don’t know what we should talk about,” I said, feeling awkward for the first time that evening.

“Whatever you want to talk about. The weather. Bees. The growth of technological industry in the past ten years.” He shrugged and leaned back casually in his seat. “Personally, I’d like to know more about you.”

Our waiter came over and filled our wine glasses, and I played with the stem of mine while I considered what to say next. I tried to keep my private life as private as possible, and since I still wasn’t sure what to make of Alexander, I was hesitant to reveal too much to him. It was silly to be on guard so much when he’d gone through all this trouble to get me out, but I couldn’t help it. I’d been burned before.

“How about we talk about you instead,” I proposed. “I’ve seen bits about you in the media here and there, but I don’t know much except that you’re a hard-partying dog lover.”

Not exactly the truth, but I didn’t want to tell him that I’d read no fewer than five articles on him and his family in the past few weeks.

He laughed. “That about sums me up.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

His lips curved wickedly. “I like all the normal rich boy pursuits. Fencing, horseback riding, judging those lesser than me.”

His tongue-in-cheek answer stripped away some of my awkwardness and I found myself leaning closer to him.

“What’s your dog’s name again? I’ve seen pictures. He’s cute.”

Genuine happiness flooded his features. “Sir Hank.”

“How’d you come up with a name like that?”

“I didn’t.” He took a sip of his wine. “At least, not really. He came with the name Hank when I adopted him and I never changed it. The adding of the “Sir” was technically my father’s doing.”

“How so?”

Alexander placed the glass on the table and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully. After a second, he said, “Swear you won’t tell anyone?”

I cocked my brow. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Good.” He relaxed a little. “Not long after I first got Hank, my father and brother and I ended up getting sozzled after a boring meal with some politicians. They had all gone by this point, mind you. My father, hammered, got it in his head that Hank deserved the title. He knighted him with the sword above our fireplace.”

I let out a bark of laughter. “King Henry knighted your dog?”

“Indeed,” Alexander confirmed. “It was hilarious.” He took on a far-off expression. “Come to think of it, I can’t remember a time since then that we’ve had as much fun.”

The royal family always looked happy in photos, but it struck me that I never saw Alexander and King Henry laughing together like I did Edward and his father. Victoria, who was around my sister’s age, was hardly present.

“You guys aren’t very close.” I immediately clapped my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

Alex shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Most of the people around us know, even if the public doesn’t.” He swirled his glass in contemplation. “My father was never the best at connecting with us, and my mother often acted as a bridge between him and me especially. My sister, too. Edward is more like my father than anyone else I know, so it was easier for him to rebuild that bridge after her death.” He took a sip from his glass, looking more serious than I’d seen him. “I guess we never did. After a while I think we all stopped trying.”

“That’s horrible.” My forehead wrinkled in genuine dismay. “I don’t see my parents all that often, with my schedule and all, but I can’t imagine not talking to them.”

“Oh, we talk,” Alexander said with a bitter smile. “We just don’t say anything.”

I found myself reaching across the table to hold his hand, squeezing and staring him deep in the eye. “I hope it’s not like that forever.”

He squeezed back but change the topic. “Now you’ve heard all about the struggles of my privileged life, I want to hear something about yours. Let’s start with your sister.”

It was only a few minutes before that Alexander had tried to swing the conversation in this direction and I’d all but stonewalled him, but I already felt more at ease. He took a risk telling me all the things he just did. If I were a reporter, or even a greedy loudmouth, I could make a killing selling the scoop on royal family dynamics. It meant a lot that he trusted me.

“Joanne is a lot to handle at times,” I said, taking a sip of wine and thinking about that morning. “But she’s good. She cares a lot about the people around her, sometimes too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“She cares too much about what other people think,” I explained. “Rather than just living her life, she’s always looking behind her back to see who’s watching and wondering what they think. I worry that it’s all going to get too much for her one day, but she hasn’t snapped, yet.”

Alexander smiled and lifted his glass in the air. “To not snapping.”

“To not snapping.”

We clinked glasses and drank, and Alex kept his eyes on me the whole time in a way that heated me to the bones.

The rest of the evening flowed smoothly—steady, uninterrupted, and calm. Alex was just as easy to talk to as he was the night we met, which was a relief. I worried before that without masks I’d find him cocky and arrogant, but he was lovely. He was genuine. When he smiled, I basked in it, and when he laughed I laughed too.

As we finished off our dessert, I realized I wasn’t ready for the night to be over. All evening his smile had been sending bolts of electricity between my thighs. I had a feeling he knew it. Joanne made a big deal about clearing out of my flat in case I wanted to have a “royal rendezvous”, but I didn’t think at the time I would use it. She probably didn’t either, but it was a good excuse to spend the night at Tristan’s.

Screw it, I decided. I gave Alexander the benefit of the doubt before and it paid off. Time to let the last of my inhibitions fly away and reward myself.

“I have an etiquette question,” I said, drinking the last of my glass.

Alexander smiled. “I’m listening.”

“How does one invite a prince back to one’s flat?”