It didn’t take long for Declan to get there. When I opened the door, I nearly cried in relief at his stoic, take-no-shit expression. I wasn’t going to get pity from him, and he wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything for me. I loved my Aunt Suze and Paige, but they had spent the last twenty minutes staring at me with twin expressions of worry. I didn’t need worry—I needed action. I needed to do something.

“Here.” Declan handed me a bag.

Inside was a black trench coat, sunglasses, and a hat. I put them on. In any other situation, Paige and I would have made some joke about being a French spy, with my collar turned up past my nose and the glasses so big that they bumped against my cheekbones. But there wasn’t anything to joke about now. I was wearing this because I had to. Because I had to hide.

“They’ll still know it’s me,” I told Declan.

“But they won’t get any good pictures of your face,” he said.

I nodded, and gave Aunt Suze a hug.

“Tell my dad I’m OK.” I couldn’t face him. Not until I knew what we were going to do to combat this.

“Call me if you need anything.” She pushed the hat back to kiss my forehead.

Paige gave me a fierce hug, her arms wrapped like iron around me. I knew she was trying to give me her strength, and it helped. It really did.

“Come on.” Declan took my elbow and we headed to the stairwell. “OK,” he said, just before we reached the bottom and would be visible to the paparazzi. “Keep your eyes and your head down.” He adjusted the jacket so it covered even more of my face. “Just hold onto my arm and I’ll get you to the car.”

I took a deep breath and wrapped both hands around his wrist. The last thing I wanted was to lose him and get lost in the crowd of tabloid writers and photographers. I shuddered at the thought. With his other hand, Declan gave me a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Then he pushed open the door.

Everything, and everyone, went crazy. I kept my gaze down, staring at my feet, but that didn’t help the overwhelming wave of sound that crashed over me. My ears rang from all the shouting, and I stumbled when I heard them calling out my name. Declan reached back and steadied me without slowing his pace, pushing through the crowd with a ruthless, uncompromising stride. When we got to the car, he pushed me in front of him, shielding my body as I got in.

“Lock it,” he told me before slamming the door.

With shaking fingers I did just that. Even though I was sure the car windows were tinted, I kept my head down until Declan got in the car.

“Alright back there?” he asked.

“Peachy,” I told him, surprised my voice didn’t wobble.

“Don’t worry,” he said as we pulled away from the curb. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with something like this.”

Surprisingly, that didn’t make me feel any better.

* * *

Declan took me back to Charlie’s flat. But when we got upstairs, I found that it was full of people. Lots of angry-looking people. Whose expressions did not change when I walked in. I was grateful that I had left my breakfast in Aunt Suze’s toilet, because I definitely felt like tossing my cookies again.

“Emmy.” Charlie pushed through the unfamiliar faces and enveloped me in a hug.

For the first time since all of this had started, I relaxed, just for an instant. Charlie felt so good—so strong and stable.

“Are you OK?” he asked, leaning back to remove my glasses. “Sorry, stupid question. Though, I have to say, I like this look on you.”

The compliment fell a little flat, but his smile was enough to coax a small one out of me.

“What happened?” I kept my arms wrapped around him, not yet ready to let go. Not yet ready to face the lion’s den of disapproving faces.

“I cocked up,” he said softly. “I’m so, so sorry. There aren’t enough apologies in the world. But we’re going to fix it.” He took my hand. “Come on.” He gestured towards the room. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

“Everyone” turned out to be the royal family’s PR team. Charlie told me names, but they all went out of my head immediately. The only person whose name I could remember was Hugh, who was looking at me like something his dog had dragged in.

“Perhaps you should sit,” he said as a means of introduction.

I did, feeling a lot like a little kid about to be chastised for getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Only this time Charlie was the hand, and he’d been grabbing a lot more than Fig Newtons. He sat next to me and took my hand under the table.

“Let’s not mince words,” one of the PR people said, her voice tart. “This is a disaster.”

“And an embarrassment,” Hugh added. “I thought you were past this kind of reckless, childish behavior, Charles. And during Wimbledon, too. God, don’t you have training? Or is that all just another game to you?”

“We were working so hard to rehab your image,” another PR person chimed in. “This sets us—and you—back.”

“Didn’t you want to get past your tarnished reputation?” Hugh demanded. “Because getting caught snogging in an alleyway with a random American is not the way to do it.” He threw me a glance. “No offense intended. But this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled these shenanigans, and I’m guessing that despite all our best efforts, it won’t be the last. For God’s sake, Charles, are you trying to drag this family into the gutter?”

I felt a chill. Shenanigans? Hugh was talking like I wasn’t even there—like I was some disposable girl, the latest in a long line of mistakes.

And maybe I was.

I realized with a shiver that Charlie had done this before—maybe even more than once. Hadn’t the driver said so? Declan, too, near enough.

How many times had they assembled this emergency PR meeting? How many other girls had Charlie done the exact same thing with?

For a moment, I felt cheap. Just like Hugh was treating me. Then Charlie cleared his throat and got to his feet.

“That’s enough,” he said, in a low, threatening voice. “We came here because you can help fix this situation, but I won’t stand for anyone disrespecting Emmy. And that includes you,” he said to his brother. “You owe Emmy an apology.”

“I’m not the one who put her in this situation,” Hugh shot back. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be you.”

Everyone’s eyes were darting back and forth, no one daring to interrupt.

“What were you thinking?” Hugh demanded, his face red. “You know the reality of your situation—of our situation. How could you have imagined this ending up any other way?”

“I deserve some privacy,” Charlie ground out, and I could see him clench his fists at his side.

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about that,” his brother responded. “And you need to grow up and realize that. Or you’re going to keep getting caught with your pants down with your latest bird.”

“Emmy is not my latest bird,” Charlie snapped. “She’s my girlfriend, and it’s time you started treating her like that. I’m not going to ask you again, do you understand?”

Silence came over the room. Everyone looked as surprised as I felt.

Girlfriend?

Hugh cleared his throat. “I . . . apologize,” he said, sounding baffled. “I didn’t realize the two of you were . . . well, officially an item.”

Neither did I. But Charlie sat back down and took my hand, this time our entwined fingers on top of the table, instead of hiding beneath it. He shot me a look, like we were in this together, and just like that, the awful sinking feeling in my stomach seemed to melt away.

“Emmy is important to me,” Charlie said firmly. “So it’s your job to deal with this.” The order was directed at the PR people.

Each of them wore a pinched, annoyed expression.

“It’s serious?” Hugh asked, his skepticism evident.

Charlie looked at me. “This wasn’t exactly how I planned on asking if you wanted to be exclusive,” he said, cracking a grin. “But I’m in if you are.”

My heart raced. I was in. I was so in.

I nodded. “Then it’s serious,” he confirmed to the room.

“Then we’ll need to do a formal press introduction,” Hugh told the PR people, who nodded.

“The gala.” One of them suggested. “There’s a big event tonight, to raise money for the sports initiative. It’s a training school, for under-privileged children,” she added, explaining to me. “Charlie is throwing his sports star power behind it. It’s the perfect way to properly introduce your new companion.”

“A gala?” I asked, thinking of all the movies I had seen where people went to galas. They were all ballgowns and diamond necklaces. I had neither.

“It’s black tie, not formal,” Charlie told me, as if he had read my mind. “You’ll fit right in.”

Across the table, the PR team was huddled together, most likely working out PR things that would hopefully counteract all the horrible things that were being said about me in the tabloids. Suddenly I felt horribly overwhelmed, and could hear my breath coming faster, my heart racing.

“Come here.” Charlie pulled me to my feet and away from the table.

Once we were a good distance from everyone else, he put his hands on my shoulders.

“Breathe,” he told me, and I realized that I had been holding my breath.

“Are you sure?” I asked again, feeling way out of my depth. “Because we could just lie low, wait to see if it all blows over . . .”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen.” He pushed a strand of hair out of my face. “You’ll be perfect,” he reassured me.

“I don’t know if I will be,” I confessed.

“Trust me,” Charlie said, looking into my eyes. “I know I’ve made a bloody mess of all this, but I can fix it.”

“I think we are both guilty of making this mess,” I reminded him.

He laughed and shook his head. “As much as I am loath to admit it, Hugh is right. I should have known better. I should have done a better job protecting you from the press, instead of putting you in their crosshairs.” He squeezed me in another hug. “But everything will be OK.”