Fuck. I was nervous. I’d never been nervous in my life. But this was different. I needed this badly. And there was a part of me that no longer wanted to be alone. I no longer wanted to bear the brunt of all that pressure. I needed the guy and needing someone made you vulnerable.

Whatever. Even if I wasn't used to the feeling, I could deal. After all, I was already here.

I pushed the doors to the diner open and saw Lucas sitting in a booth at the back. I made my way through the throngs of people, nodding at the hostess that I was meeting someone. When I reached the table, Lucas didn't smile.

Okay, not exactly a friendly reception. That was all right. I had a plan. Not exactly the best of plans, but still, it was a semblance of a plan. "Thanks for meeting me.”

"Well, considering I haven't been able to think about anything else since we talked, it’s not like I really had a choice."

And it all came down to choice, didn't it? "Look, sorry to ambush your life man. But I thought you should know.”

The corner of Lucas’s lips tipped into a wry smile. "The thing is I was ready to believe that you were a complete wacko. And then I looked you up. The Winston Isles, your name. You’re a fucking prince, goddamned royalty."

I slid my gaze around. "Please, keep your voice down."

My brother leaned forward. "And that's just the thing. I've been seeing all these reports of you in Mallorca, or Ibiza, or Fiji. Partying it up, causing international incidents wherever you go. But then here you are, sitting in a diner with me. It doesn’t track."

I was glad Lucas had done his due diligence. I didn’t want someone gullible sitting on the throne. To manage politics in a monarchy, he needed to be shrewd. "Did you come to any determinations?"

Lucas sat back. "Well, I went back and had a look at the photos of you with your parents. With our father. And there are a couple of close-ups. For example." Lucas indicated his own chin, rubbing the backs of his fingertips against it. "For example, the Crown Prince of Winston Isles has a scar right here. Supposedly he fell off a horse playing polo."

I nodded. Not bad. So far no one else had looked that close.

Lucas shrugged. "I checked out those doubles. Neither one of those guys in Mallorca (or wherever the fuck) had any close-up shots. But you, sitting right in front of me, have that very same scar. Which leads me to believe those guys are doubles. Which leads me to believe you set that up to so that the world would think that you were doing things that princes do. All the while you're here. And I want to know why."

Okay. So my brother was better than shrewd. Sharp as a tack actually, which would make things a lot easier. "I didn't know anything about you up until about six months ago. My father, our father, is trying to push through a change to the Constitution where you and our supposed sister would be in line for the throne."

"So what? You're here to make sure that I don't challenge your birthright?"

I shook my head. "Nope. The exact opposite. I want that vote to go through."

Lucas's brow furrowed. "But why? That makes no sense. If he establishes me as a prince, won’t that be a danger to you? Couldn't I just, like, kill you off or whatever and then become king?"

I grinned. "I would hope for a less bloody method to make you king, but yes in theory."

Lucas stared me. Lucas worked his teeth over his bottom lip. "I spoke to my mother. She had a fascinating story to tell me."

And here it was. The part I had been waiting for. Lucas was starting to believe. And it was exactly what I needed.

“Italy. I guess she always wanted to go. She managed to win a study abroad scholarship. You see, unlike you, my family didn’t grow up with a silver spoon. So Mom goes to Europe and does all the things that girls studying abroad do, including sleeping with some guy she thinks is hot. And having some crazy mini affair. He had to leave and they made all the promises to keep in touch. Which he doesn’t.”

He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze to the cracked linoleum of the table. “What she doesn’t recognize until a couple of months later when she’s safely back at home is that she's pregnant. With me. She tries to get in touch with that guy. But she doesn’t have his full name, at least not his real one. She has no one to contact, no one to let know that he's going to be a father. A couple of years later, she’s hooked up with Darren the Douche con man, and Study Abroad guy appears and wants to be part of my life. She’s pissed, so she kicks him to the curb." Lucas took a sip of his coffee. “She must have really loved him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she didn’t fleece him. Or go to the press.”

I nodded. "In the pieces I have from our father, he talked about how he met your mother and how he had to return to the Winston Isles. He said he wasn’t allowed to give her his real name. And in his own way, he was doing his own get-away-from-his-life thing. But unlike her, he tracked her until her found her. When he turned up in her life, she wanted nothing to do with him and wouldn’t accept any support for you."

“Probably a good call. Darren would have blown the cash at the track.”

I shrugged. "All I know is that he's trying to push this vote through to make sure that you get what you deserve. There's no reason for him to do that, unless he really does want to claim you."

Lucas gave a harsh chuckle. "No reason besides guilt. You're okay with this?"

I nodded. "I am."

Lucas frowned. "I still think you're insane, but fill in the holes for me."

"Okay. We’re going to need more coffee for this."

* * *

Today was a new day. Today would not include fantasizing about the crown prince. Today would not include fantasizing then masturbating about the prince.

This was my new mantra. Especially the parts about how I would not fantasize about Sebastian. What the hell was wrong with me?

Nope. I would not spiral downward. Not going happen. Last night’s dream happened. Fine. People dreamed all the time. I was not going to take this one too seriously. Besides, it wasn't entirely my fault.

He’d been all sexy and stuff. His Royal Fucking Majesty lifted heavy things for me. It was biology. Biology made me click the ol’ O-getter button repeatedly. Biology.

It wasn’t your fault. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

In my dream, he’d leaned in and kissed me with his whole I'm-going-to-rock-your-world look. I couldn't be held accountable for finding the man attractive. The guy was hot. The abs. Hell, just the face alone. When Dream Me grabbed onto his shirt, I’d found soft cotton had been laid over a hard-as-granite six-pack. It was not my fault that my body responded. Liar.

I hopped out of the shower, more resolute than ever to do a good job. Nothing was going to get in my way. I just had to prove to myself that I could do this and that I was meant to do this job. So what if my father didn't believe in me?

Who cared? Ariel thought I could do anything. Okay, also to be fair, Ariel was my best friend. But more importantly, she thought I could do this. And I was going to. I was going to take the bull by the balls. All I had to do was find a way to get close but remain detached. Maybe it was time to suggest a hang out. So far I’d managed the random bumping-into, but I needed to speed this along. We’d had one personal conversation, so I just needed to build on that. I could do that. I had to do that.

Besides, I wasn't dumb enough to think that he cared about me. I knew enough about the prince. He was hell on women. Besides, he loved himself some socialites. He wouldn’t look twice at a wannabe artist and subpar Royal Guard. Not going to happen.

Those stories where the low-born girl somehow caught the attention of the prince and managed to marry him? Those were called fairy tales for a reason. Because just like fairies, they didn't exist.

I pulled out my phone and cursed under my breath, running back to the bathroom. The curses rained from my lips. "Fuck. Shit. Bugger." There were several alerts that he was on the move. And this morning was my shift.

I’d lost him. I checked my laptop monitor quickly, only to confirm he wasn't in his apartment. And while I’d managed to bug his place, I still hadn’t managed to tag his phone. The guy was already gone. Damn. I was so totally screwed. If I were a prince, where would I go?

With legs still slicked wet from the shower, I tried to tug on a pair of jeans hastily as Ariel called. I answered on the first ring. "Yep, Ariel, I know. I can't talk. I lost the fucking prince."

On the other end of the line, I could hear something dropping. "What the fuck do you mean you lost him?"

"Calamity Penny is back. I didn’t get to tag his damn phone. That's what I was supposed to do when he helped me, but he never even pulled the damn thing out of his pocket."

“Shit, where do you think he is?”

“No clue. Where would you go if you were him?"

"Honey, I don't know. Maybe an appointment? He loves photography. Maybe he’d catch the early morning light?"

"Yeah, sure. Except that leaves an awful lot of places." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Think. Think. Think. Think. Okay, listen. I’ll head out, maybe down toward the bar. There are some cafés near there. I will call you later." Then I hung up with my best friend and hoped I hadn’t ruined my future already.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I had been so busy patting myself on the back I hadn’t kept my eye on the prize. I still needed to clone his damn phone. But now, I’d lost the damn prince.

I shoved my feet into my combat boots, not caring that I had on leggings with holes in them and a graphic T-shirt with paint all over it. It was fine. It was a look. I was going with that. The most important thing right now was to find the prince. And possibly save my job. Yes, but is it even a job that I want? Oh hell no. I was not having that whole career-crisis situation right now.

I had no idea where the hell he was. And since when did he leave the house before ten o’clock? I was going to have to get on a different schedule if I wanted to keep ahead of him. Think. Think. If you were the crown prince of the Winston Isles, where would you go at the ass crack of dawn? The only place I could think of was maybe the bar. Maybe he left something at the bar?

Okay, that was my first stop. If he wasn't there, I was fucked. But I wasn’t going to think about that. I just had to get my ass to the bar, and I’d figure it out from there.

I hustled the three blocks in the direction of the bar where he worked before my phone rang. I didn't even bother to look at the caller ID before answering. "Yeah?"

"Penelope?"

I froze. I knew that voice. "King Cassius?" I choked out.

There was a little chuckle. "Were you expecting someone else?"

I froze like a cockroach in daylight. Holy shit balls. "Shit. Oh my God, Your Majesty. I'm so sorry.” Shit. I’d sworn at the King. What was wrong with me? Damn. “I was just working on Sebastian. Oh bugger. I don’t mean like working on him. I swear. Not in a sexual manner.” Oh my God. I needed to stop. “Or any manner. Shit. Oh dammit. I just did it again." Shut up. Just stop talking. As a matter of fact, you should never talk again.

I stopped running too. Maybe my brain would start to function if it wasn’t so worried about hauling ass to the bar.

This time the King's laugh was a low rumble, and my skin flushed. Great. Now I could probably get a job as the court jester. Well, at least I would have a job. "This is probably the most I've laughed in several weeks."

"Always glad to be of service to the crown. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?"

"I'm just calling for an update. Are things going well with Sebastian?”

"Yes sir. We’ve met, and I've established myself as the neighbor. I also set up surveillance just yesterday in his apartment." I left out the part where I’d had a sexy dream of Sebastian kissing me and that I’d thought about doing some really inappropriate things with the crown prince.

"Good. Good. He doesn’t suspect you?"

"No. Not that I know of. But sir, this might all be made easier if I didn't need to lie. Maybe if I was just—”

"No. I know Sebastian well. If he finds out that you’re Royal Guard, he will never trust me again. As it is, whatever you’re doing made him engage with me for the first time in six months. He called home. So no, I need you to keep this quiet."

Great. I would just go ahead and keep lying. That was if I found the prince again. And just as my brain was scrambling to find something to say, something I could offer as a better status update, I glanced across the street to Joe’s Cafe. And there he was, with Lucas. “Oh, thank fuck.”

"Excuse me?"

Shit. I’d said that out loud? "So sorry, Your Majesty. I was saying thank God. I think keeping him in the dark is the best idea. He'll disclose more to me. Keep me closer. And I can keep him protected."

This was treason. I’d just lied to my king. Because like a moron, you’re starting to feel things you have no business feeling.

Well, I was going to have to get over it, because that was not part of the job.

“Very well then. I’ll call again in a few days to check in."

"Your Majesty, would you rather I call and give you regular updates? Maybe once a week?"

"I prefer to call you on a blocked number. That way if he should check your phone, he won't find anything amiss."

Would he be checking my phone? "I'll make sure he's not suspicious of me."

"I think that's a good idea. And Penelope … "

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Thank you. I've slept better knowing that you have Sebastian's best interests at heart."

I hung up with the king, unsure if that was entirely true.