“RISE AND SHINE, SLEEPING BEAUTY.”
My blinks come rapidly as the words wrestle their way into my mind, my body stretching out, my skin rubbing against the smooth, silky sheets. The blurry vision of someone sitting on the edge of the bed leaning over me slowly becomes clear.
Josh.
I inhale on a smile rolling from my back to face him. “Good morning,” I sigh. He’s wrapped in a towel, his hair wet, his chest so close it’s dizzying.
“Isn’t it just.” His smile is bright enough to knock me unconscious again. “You looked so peaceful. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”
Where I am, who I’m with, and the memory of me dozing off in Josh’s arms all hit me at once. I quickly sit up, panic superseding my tranquility. “Damon!”
“Hey, cool it.”
“Oh God, the poor man will be walking dead this morning.”
“He wouldn’t leave and he wouldn’t wake you up, either. I carried you to bed and you didn’t even stir.” He grins. “But you clung onto me tightly.”
I roll my eyes, falling back to the pillow as I hide my own grin. “He’s a stubborn old sod.”
“No, he’s protective of you.” Josh tilts his head, raising a serious brow. “As he should be. You’re lucky to have him.”
I frown. “I don’t need you to tell me that.” Damon is a blessing in my suppressed life. I’m grateful for him every day, but Josh’s light scorn is making me wonder if Damon knows how much I appreciate him. I don’t know, so I make it a point to tell him just as soon as I find him. “I need to go before Kellington Palace files a missing person’s report.” I scan the floor as I shuffle down the bed. “Where’s my dress?”
“Hanging in the closet.” Josh gets up and wanders to the wardrobe, pulling my dress out. “Can’t have a princess walking the walk of shame in a creased dress, can we?”
I narrow my eyes on his grinning face, taking my naked body over to him and swiping my dress from his hand. “Why do I sense that you’re thrilled at the thought of me walking the walk of shame?”
“Because you’re walking the walk of shame from my hotel room. That’s why.” Casually and lazily, he pulls the towel from his hips and pouts. “Or you don’t have to walk anywhere.”
My hungry gaze plummets down his chest and meets his groin, and I fall into an admiring daydream, mentally mustering a plan to keep me here. I run through a few plausible explanations for being missing in action so I can hide here all day with Josh and let him maintain this wonderful state of serenity, but before I can voice any of my ideas, the door to the bedroom bursts open.
I startle and swing around, forgetting that I’m naked, therefore giving our unannounced visitor a full-frontal. I stare into a pair of stunned eyes, the eyes of a girl with a pile of clean sheets in her hand. Her stare jumps from me to Josh, back and forth, her forehead gradually furrowing in confusion. Oh, bloody hell. I can see the penny slowly dropping, the girl from housekeeping slowly grasping what she is faced with. Or who she is faced with. I quickly come to my senses and hold my dress against my front, and then grab Josh’s towel when he shows no signs of trying to cover himself, shoving it in his chest.
And then an excited scream rings out and the girl descends quickly into a meltdown. “Oh my God!” The sheets drop from her hands and she covers her mouth. I close my eyes in despair. I can’t blame her for her reaction. The woman is faced with two of the most famous people in the world. Her star-struck state won’t allow her to wonder why we are both here in the same hotel room together, but I have no doubt it soon will. This is awful. How did she get in here?
As I think that, Josh’s security fall through the door, and Josh must suddenly comprehend the potential problem we’re faced with because he springs to life.
Flicking his head to one of his men, he makes quick work of refastening his towel around his hips.
“Oh my God,” the maid shrieks again. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”
“Come on, love.” She’s gently ushered from the room by the friendly smiles of Josh’s security before one of the men looks back at our less-than-decent forms with apologetic eyes.
As soon as the door closes, panic finds me, and I have my very own little meltdown.
That’s it. My time in Josh’s heaven is over. Poof! Gone.
“This is a disaster.” I start pacing the room, at the same time fighting my way into my underwear.
I’m halted in my frantic actions when Josh appears in front of me, taking the tops of my arms and holding me still. “Stop panicking.”
“I’m not panicking,” I screech, less than calmly, managing to fasten my bra. I step into my dress and get it to my waist. “She’ll be dashing to the office of the nearest national newspaper and tomorrow it will be front-page news. You and me. Naked. In a room at The Dorchester.” I run out of breath as a result of my screeching episode, but quickly pull in more air, not quite done yet.
Josh’s hand lands over my mouth, his eyes like saucers. “Will you calm down?”
I snatch his hand away. “Calm down? This is the worst thing that could happen.”
Stunned eyes quickly transform into . . . what is that? Anger? “The worst thing?” His jaw goes stiff. “What, ashamed to be associated with a lowly actor?”
Is he trying to be funny? “Don’t be so ridiculous.” I step away, holding my dress to my front with my arms to stop it from dropping to the floor. “It’s just . . .” My eyes plummet.
“Just what?”
“It’s just . . .” What can I say?
“What? Goddamn it, Adeline. What?”
I burst, my frustration and helplessness pouring out of me unstoppably. “When they find out, they’ll find a way to stop me from seeing you again,” I yell, making Josh recoil warily, though I can’t be sure if it is because of my shouting, or what I’m shouting. I breathe in deeply to calm myself down. “And that will be the worst thing that could happen,” I say calmly, keeping my gaze low, wishing I would think before I speak. But I’ve dived in now. May as well see it through to the end. So I take the plunge. Feet first, in I go. “I like you.” I frown to myself, the words so alien. “That’s not happened before, me liking a man so much. It’s a very lovely feeling, but equally terrifying.”
There’s silence, a long, painful, awkward silence, and it’s not long before I’m regretting being so loose-lipped. I’m such a foolish idiot. He’s the epitome of Hollywood, for goodness sake. And the most desired man on earth. He is free to cavort with any woman he pleases. Me? My love life is hampered by things out of my control, and now, more than ever, I hate everything about my existence. I might just be a score for him. A challenge. An accomplishment. A private one, since no one will ever know about it, but an accomplishment nevertheless.
I clear my throat of the silly lump that has formed, collecting my clutch from the bedside. “I’ll be going now.”
I don’t make it two paces toward the door before he’s blocking my path. “Wait.”
“No, really, I must go.” I skirt past him and pull the door open.
It’s slammed shut by Josh with me on the wrong side of it, and I suck in air when he pushes me front forward into the wood with the length of his body. “Someone’s forgotten the rules of our game.” His accent is rough again, low and serious.
“This isn’t a game, Josh.” I’m not sure when it turned into something more than that, but it has. For me, anyway.
“It’s a game, Your Highness,” he breathes in my ear. I swallow, my eyes darting across the wood before me. “And now you are winning.” His teeth nibble at my lobe, and then his tongue traces the shell of my ear. Before I can control myself, I’ve lent back against his chest, the magnetic pull too much to stop. “By a long fuckin’ shot, Adeline. You may have already won, in fact.”
“What?”
He turns me around and brushes his palms over my hair, holding my head. “I like you.” Unlike me, Josh’s eyes remain glued to mine as he speaks his confession. “A lot. A real lot.”
My stomach lunges, that statement turning it in circles. “You do?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that. The Princess of fuckin’ England. The expert seductress. You’re asking me if I really like you?”
I ignore his statements and question. I’m not interested in those. Only one thing matters to me. “You do?” I want confirmation. Need confirmation. Anything to tell me that this hasn’t been my imagination. That he’s felt it as deeply as I have. That I am not alone in these crazy feelings.
He smiles and drags the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. “You have completely and utterly blinded me to anything else but you, woman. That good enough for you?”
I press my lips firmly together, stupidly not wanting him to see how happy that makes me.
“You can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face.” He laughs.
Seems I lost my battle. My smile is way too big to conceal. But it quickly falls when I remember why we’re having this conversation. “The maid.” Now I’m even more anxious. Now I’m even more determined to keep what we have under wraps, since we appear to be on the same page in liking each other a real lot.
“If we’re going to date, we can’t hide it forever.”
I laugh. “Oh, yes we can.” I get my hands behind my back and fasten the zip of my dress as high as my arms can reach, until Josh sees my struggle and turns me away, taking over.
“You’re not talking sense.” His tone is admonishing. “It’ll be impossible.”
“I’m talking perfect sense,” I assure him, positively dreading the thought of the hierarchy finding out.
He drops a light kiss on my shoulder through a sigh, displaying a little exasperation. “Maybe we should talk about this once we’ve dealt with the maid.”
“Maybe that is a very good idea.” I turn to face him as he pulls some jeans up his legs and a T-shirt over his head.
“I’ve never dated a woman who needs more security than me.” His lovely forehead wrinkles on a frown. “It’s . . . weird.”
I scoff. “I’m erring more on the side of annoying, actually, but if weird fits.” I brush my dress down and flick my hair over my shoulders. “God, I must look frightful.” Josh chuckles, and I stare at him in dismay. “Whatever’s tickled you?”
“You, Your Highness.” He collects my hand and leads me out of the room. “Your British lingo and posh accent.”
“Well, it’s how I speak.”
“And I love it.”
We find Josh’s men in the small room where they congregated last night, all huddled and talking quietly. But no Damon. “Excuse me,” I interrupt, breaking up their close circle. “Where is Damon?”
“Here.” His gruff voice comes from behind, and I pivot to see him entering the suite. “What’s going on?” he asks, taking in the scene.
Bates steps forward. “One of the hotel staff walked in on Princess Adeline and Mr. Jameson.”
Damon’s instantly alert. And mad. So very mad. “How was that allowed to happen?”
“I had a call about a fan trying to get to Mr. Jameson’s suite. I left to deal with it.” Bates looks to the other two members of his team. “I thought I left them in good hands.”
Both men cower back a few paces, even more so when Damon lands his deadly glare on them. “I hope you have other career prospects,” he grates, turning his eyes to Bates. “I’ll have an NDA sent to you. Get them to sign it before you fire them.”
I step forward, cautious. “Damon—” I snap my mouth shut when he turns his hard stare on me, effectively shutting me up. He gets his phone from his pocket, and I know it’s in readiness to call Felix. “Don’t the hotel staff know the protocol for high-profile guests?”
“The maid is new to the staff,” Bates says. “Seems she didn’t get the memo. I’m taking it up with management.”
“Good.”
I let go of Josh’s hand and sit down, giving Damon worried eyes. “Where were you?” I ask. It’s so unlike him to leave his post.
He holds up his mobile, his jaw tight. I can see he’s angry with himself. “Major Davenport. Apparently, the King would like to breakfast with his daughter at Kellington this morning. He’s there. And you are not.”
“Oh.”
Damon turns his eyes back to Bates. “I thought these guys were MI6 trained.”
“They are. They can use their newfound free time to go back into training.”
My mobile rings from my purse, and Eddie’s name fills my screen. I feel rotten for rejecting his call, but I need to debrief with Damon and find out what he has said before I speak to anyone.
“I don’t think we need to worry about the maid,” Bates assures us, going back to our original problem. Damon looks less than assured, and I don’t feel it. “She was more worried about losing her job. She won’t talk.”
“I don’t know about you guys,”—Damon waves his phone in their direction—“but we don’t operate on don’t thinks. Get her back here once we’ve gone and get her signature on an NDA.” He starts dialing, and I shoot up, placing my hand on his phone to stop him from calling Felix.
“Let us not be too hasty,” I say, glancing at Josh. “Maybe involving Felix would be a little presumptuous?” I’m trying to think sensibly amid my worry. The more people in the royal household that know, the more likely the King will find out. Felix ultimately answers to my father. Not me.
“We’ll talk in the car. Where’s your coat?”
“Here.” Josh collects my mac from the chair and helps me into it. “Call me, yeah?”
I nod. “Have fun at the premiere.”
“I’ll try.” A sweet, delicate kiss is pressed against my cheek, and I catch Damon’s eye as Josh pulls back. His expression tells me he knows beyond doubt that I am in deep. He’s worried for me, and that just makes the reality of this more unsettling.
I’m led to the car flanked by both Josh’s and my men, and I only breathe again once I’m safely in the back. Now I can register the pale complexions and tired eyes of Damon and his men, I feel rather awful about it. “I’m sorry for keeping you up all night.”
“We slept in shifts. It’s not a problem.” He brushes my concern aside as easy as that.
“I’m grateful. I want you to know that.”
He looks at me in the mirror. “I know that.”
“Good. I’m glad.” I smile and cherish the one he gives me in return. “Now, what am I to say to the King?” I bite my lip, aware that I sound desperate, maybe because I am.
“I told Davenport you had an early start at the stables. It’s all I could think of. So long as we can get you to your suite undetected, you should be fine, ma’am.”
“You are a genius, Damon. Thank you.”
“All in a day’s work.” His eyes flick up to the mirror. “Apparently.”
I inwardly laugh and settle back in my seat, looking out the window. “I think I would like to have a bumming day today,” I declare. “So you can take the day off, if you’d like. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
“I do wish.” I wish for so much more too, and now I know Josh likes me a real lot, I cannot help but wish harder. And dread more. Considerations need to be made for what happens next. I would like to think I can go to my father and tell him that I’ve met a really wonderful man, one I know he’d love for me to date. But my father isn’t only my father. He’s the King of England, too. Our family’s first marriage is to the throne, not our spouse, and rarely our heart. Happiness is only an illusion.
MY EYES ARE ROOTED ON the entrance of Kellington as we pull up to the gates, watchful for the people I hope to avoid. My father being the first and foremost. “Do we know if the King is still here?” I ask Damon, but no sooner have I uttered my question, I see his Bentley. “Drat.” I look at my seated form on a sigh. What are the chances of me getting to my suite without being spotted by him or one of his minions? Not likely. “I hardly look like I have been to the stables.”
“Nothing a bit of forward thinking can’t solve.” Damon gets out, and I spot Olive rushing down the steps of Kellington, her arms full of my riding clothes, her eyes constantly looking back to see if she’s been spotted.
“Oh, Damon, you are too good to me.” The back door opens and Olive passes over the goods on a small, nervous smile. “Olive, thank you. Thank you very much.”
“Ma’am.” She nods and scuttles off. The door is closed again and Damon stands with his back to it while I fight and wrestle around on the back seat to change, constantly peeking up to check the coast is clear. Not that I need to. I’m just pulling my riding boots on when there’s a warning tap at the window.
I look up and see Davenport coming down the steps toward the car. My heartbeat accelerates. I stuff my Herve Ledger dress under the driver’s seat, along with my shoes, and quickly pull my hair into a ponytail. Then I paint on my smile and tap the window for Damon to open. “Major,” I say as he approaches, aware of the suspicious look being cast up and down my form.
“Your Highness,” he says tightly, quickly changing his direction to join me as I walk into Kellington Palace.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, pulling off the gloves that I’ve just urgently tugged on. I hand them to Olive on a small smile.
“Rather early at the stables this morning, ma’am,” he replies, avoiding my question. I turn a happy face onto him, quietly smug that he thought he’d catch me out.
“Seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful morning.” I turn toward the dining room, knowing that’s where I’ll find my father. Damn it. It was such a wonderful night, and now I’m back to my wretched reality.
As I enter the dining room, I find not only my father, but Eddie and John, too. My eldest brother looks at me in his usual high-browed way, and my youngest brother looks at me in his usual wary way. He’ll want an explanation for my whereabouts last night. Lying to him isn’t an option, what with him also residing at Kellington. I nod graciously to my father when he looks up from his coffee, but he doesn’t acknowledge my greeting, turning his attention to Major Davenport. “Have you reached David Sampson?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Let me know the moment you do. Wherever could he be, for crying out loud?”
“I will be sure to advise you the moment he is located.” Davenport backs out of the room, and father points his attention to me.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, remembering the last time I saw David and the circumstances.
“The wanderer returns,” Father quips, ignoring my question. Of course he ignores it. I have no place in business talk.
“I’ve been to the stables.” I take a seat while a coffee is poured for me. “Spearmint is coming on in leaps and bounds, Father. You will be delighted with his progress.” John laughs under his breath, prompting me to look across the table at him. “How is Helen?” I ask sweetly.
“The first trimester is taking its toll. She’s being monitored carefully.”
I inwardly roll my eyes. “I expect so. A pregnant woman in her late thirties is classed as a high-risk pregnancy.” I lift my cup and saucer and sip some coffee, catching Eddie’s eye. He’s shaking his head at me in dismay, but I can’t help my snide quips where John is concerned. I would say he is above his station, but being the Heir Apparent, the only higher station is our father. The King. That being said, if he didn’t treat me with such contempt all the time, then maybe I wouldn’t retaliate. Not for the first time, I dread the prospect of John being King and Helen Queen Consort. Both will thrive on the power and throw their weight around with the family, probably more than my father does. It will be a lower form of hell than I am already in.
“That’s enough, Adeline,” Father says, getting up from the table. Oh good. He’s leaving. “It would have been lovely to dine with all three of my children this morning, but alas, one wasn’t in residence when I arrived.”
“Ever the disappointment,” I say on a sigh. “If I had known you were gracing me with your presence this morning, I would have known to be here.” I’m not bloody psychic, and this is all very out of the norm, anyway. Father never joins us at Kellington for breakfast. If he wants to eat with his children, we are summoned to Claringdon with at least twenty-four hours’ notice. And what on earth is John doing here, too? He’s not stepped foot in my residence for . . . I can’t even remember.
“In future, we’ll be sure to work around your hectic schedule,” John says flatly, taking his napkin from his lap and laying it on the table as he rises. The acid lacing his words grate on every nerve I have, the ulterior meaning crystal clear.
“Yes, it’s awfully demanding sitting around looking pretty,” I snipe, unable to hold it back. I give him a sweet smile and flick my hair over my shoulder.
John rests his palms on the table and leans forward, his lip curling. “Get married and make yourself useful.”
“John,” Eddie snaps, shooting up from the table. “Don’t speak to her like that.”
I’m eternally grateful for Eddie’s intervention, but it will have entirely no effect. “Well,” John huffs, “we all work hard while she flounces around without a care in the world, doing as she damn well pleases and leaving a mess in her wake for everyone else to clear up.”
“I’ve never asked for my messes to be cleared up.” I stand too, matching John’s threatening pose. “I wouldn’t care if my messes were left messy. Who cares who knows if I had a date with a banker? Who cares if I shared company with a lawyer from Shoosmiths? Let the world know.”
“A date?” John laughs. “Shared company? Is that what you call opening your legs for any man who crosses your path?”
“For Christ’s sake,” Eddie breathes, anger clear in his expression.
I feel my blood begin to boil, and it doesn’t cool when I look at my father and find his eyes on me, interested in my potential comeback to John’s accusation. “I do not open my legs for any man who crosses my path,” I seethe. “And I would love to date like a normal person and not sneak around, but I am not permitted to do that, because I am a member of this God-forsaken family.”
“Enough,” Father roars, all his anger directed at me and me alone. As I would have expected, of course. “I will not hear you speak with such disregard for the Monarchy.”
I turn toward the King, feeling my nostrils flare with rage, and I once again comprehend how impossible my life is. He listened to my brother talk to me like I’m a whore. He shouldn’t tolerate that. I want to scream at him, tell him where I really was last night, and who I was with. But that would be cutting off my nose to spite my face. So I do the only thing there is to do. I curtsey to the King and leave the room, my eyes brimming with tears as I go. My vision may be foggy, but I see the bleakness of Damon’s expression as I pass him in the foyer. He heard it all. Everyone in Kellington heard. I rush up the stairs, keeping my head low to avoid the eyes of any staff, and fall into my suite, slamming the door behind me. And I do something that I haven’t done for years.
I cry.
I hide my face in my palms and sob like a baby, feeling so hopeless and distraught. I could easily run away. Disappear to somewhere they’ll never find me. Be anonymous and free. It’s a wonderful notion, if completely unrealistic. No matter where I go in this world, I will always be recognized.
And they will always find me.