Not even stopping to think, I slide myself from the counter and duck under Leo’s arm. I rush to the stove, grab a lid from under the counter and throw it on top of the flaming pan. I pull the entire thing off the burner and turn off the heat. The fire goes out within a few seconds, but the acrid scent of burned onion hangs in the air.

I let this go too far—watching him try to cook was so damn hilarious I never thought about the very real possibility of him burning my house down. And that was before I lost control again. This incident only proves that things go straight to hell when I let my guard down for even a second.

Trying to curb at least a small amount of the ridiculous desire that takes over my body every time I’m around him, I pull my clothes back into place.

I try to smile—I have to cover this up somehow, and he seems to respond better to me at least faking happiness than he does the crappy uncertainty that has taken over again. “I think it might be best if I’m the only person cooking in this house. Unless you have a chef hidden in your suitcase or something.” Widening my phony smile, I try to cover the stabbing pain in my chest, knowing I need to shut this all down. There aren’t going to be any shared meals between us or anything else for that matter. This has to end—and it has to end now. It’s already gone way too far, and I’m the one who is going to suffer.

Leo walks over to me and touches a finger to my jaw. He tips my chin up, forcing my gaze to his. “I have many more things to show you, Elle. Many.”

His finger is still bleeding. I go into doctor-mode again, pulling his hand into mine and examining the wound. At least using my medical knowledge to assess his finger might distract me from being pulled under his spell again. “This is going to need more than bandaging, Leo.”

He pulls his hand away and rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing—”

“It’s a deep cut. It might need a stitch or two. Considering you cut it right where you bend your finger—”

“Thank you, Elle. That will be all.” He gives me a dismissive wave of his hand—almost as though he’s excusing me like one of his servants—before his gaze snaps to mine. His eyes widen in what almost looks like horror, and his mouth falls open.

My jaw tightens. “Oh.” I force another smile. “I see. Well, you can tend to your own bandaging, then, I suppose. But don’t come crying to me when you can’t bend your finger next week.”

“Elle, I didn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what you meant.” The stabbing pain in my chest returns, and I try to cover my emotions with another small smile and motion to the other side of the room. “Why don’t you go clean up your cut? There are supplies in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror in the bathroom.”

“I would appreciate your assistance. If you feel bandaging is necessary—”

“I will be cleaning up the mess you made in the kitchen while you tend to your wound. But get this straight, Leo. This is the last time I clean up any mess of yours.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “That came out wrong—what I said. Surely you of all people—”

“Fuck you, Leo.” I shake my head and turn my attention to the stove without another word.

He slinks toward the bathroom and I turn to the mess left on the stove by Leo’s botched attempt at cooking. I toss the bloodied peppers into the garbage and put the cutting board and knife into the dishwasher. The main problem is the stinking pan of burned onions, so I grab it to dump it into the trash.

“Men and their fucking messes,” I mutter to myself as I open the side door and walk outside to the garbage can. I haven’t even lifted the lid before I hear the clicking of cameras. Someone calls out my name before I can even look up, only this time, they’re yelling, “Elle! Elle!” and not calling me Eleanor.

How the hell did I forget about this mess?

They start yelling out questions, but so many of them are shouting at once that I can’t really understand any of them.

I drop my gaze to what I’m doing—I dump the burned onions into the garbage can and keep my head down, making a beeline back to the house.

But then I hear a lone question—a woman. I’m not sure if the other voices have stopped or if maybe I’m just able to hear her voice alone among the others. But I hear every word she says.

“How does this end, Elle?”

I turn and my gaze snaps to hers, but I say nothing. I just feel the twisting sensation in my chest again. I can’t breathe—I stare at her for what seems like an eternity. Finally, I shake my head without saying a word to any of them and go back into the house.

Stepping into the kitchen, I lift my hands to grasp the edge of the counter and close my eyes, trying to catch my breath.

How does this end? There is only one answer to this question. Not well. And not well is probably the best I can hope for at this point. If things go on much longer, it’s going to be much, much worse than that.

A buzzing sound rings in my ears and I have to blink a few times, unsure of what it is or where it’s coming from. I think I might be imagining it, but then I hear it again. And again.

Leo’s phone is sitting on the counter. I almost laugh when I remember how he had been trying to use it to figure out how to chop onions—I still can’t believe he needed the internet for that. I think it was my first genuine laugh in over a year.

The phone buzzes again and a few seconds later, it buzzes once more. I finally glance down at it—the screen is full of texts from Andrew.

This is too much. Even for you, Leopold.

Father has reached his limit. He’s calling the local law enforcement to extract you now.

But the one at the bottom—it had to be the first message Andrew sent—makes the knife in my chest turn again.

You said you were done with her.

I stand there staring at the screen until it goes dark, then I close my eyes. I knew there was something else going on here—that there was no way Leo had any more than a passing interest in me. The only reason he came back here was to hide from the media circus he must have known was coming. Why wouldn’t he have come back here—especially when he has a woman here so fucking eager to spread her legs for him? A woman with no sense of control—a worthless, throwaway toy he can dispose of as soon as he’s ready to find something better. Something new. Someone appropriate for a prince like him.

I’m so stupid. I’m tired of telling myself that—I’m tired of reliving the same story over and over.

I close my eyes for a second, my fingers clutched tightly against the edge of the granite countertop. I focus on taking slow, smooth breaths—I’m not going to let myself panic over this. I’m going to try very hard not to worry about what comes next. Leo was right about one thing—I can’t control what’s going to happen tomorrow. I know that on an intellectual level, but it’s hard not to let myself worry. It’s almost a part of who I am.

He’s returned to the kitchen, but I don’t look up at him.

“Elle, I’m sorry.”

My glass of wine is sitting on the counter and reach over to grab it. I swallow the rest of the liquid in a single gulp, then grab the bottle and refill my glass. I take another drink and turn away from him.

“Elle.” He’s stopped on the other side of the counter.

I don’t turn back to face him. I take another long sip from the glass before I speak. “You should probably check your messages.”

“Were you looking at my phone?”

I spin on my heel to face him. “No, asshole. I wasn’t looking at your phone. Someone…” I motion with my head toward the phone sitting on the counter. “Someone texted you and the thing lit up like a Christmas tree. It’s hard not to look when the thing is buzzing so loudly, too. Maybe you should turn off the sound if you don’t want people knowing when you get a text.”

He frowns, picks the phone up and glances down at the screen before slipping it into his pocket.

I drain the rest of my glass and set it back down on the counter. My cheeks are already starting to feel hot—I probably shouldn’t have had two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, but I’m considering adding a third.

I lift a finger and point at him. “You should go get your things. The cops will be here for you in a minute.”

He shrugs. “I’ve done nothing wrong. They can’t force me to leave if I don’t want to.”

“Oh, but I can.” I wag my finger in his direction again before I drop my hand. I reach for the bottle of wine and pour the rest of it into my glass. “I think I’m going to go back out there and answer her question, anyway.” I take another long drink. “Because you and I both have the same answer.”

His brows knit together. “What on earth are you talking about, Elle? I was out there the entire time with you on your stoop—no one did more than shout your name.”

“No, you were in the bathroom and I went out there again by accident.” I take another gulp of my wine before I point at him again. “And she’s right.”

“Who’s right? What are you talking about? What did she ask you?”

I glare at him. “She asked me how this ends. I asked you that this morning. Before you left.”

He stares at me, expressionless.

“Do you remember the answer?”

He closes his eyes for a second before he nods.

“Not. Well. That’s the answer. You can’t deny it, Leo. Even if you wanted to—I saw that text from your brother.”

He shrugs again. “No one can force me to go with the police, Elle. I’ve not violated any laws. I’m visiting the country legally. You’ve invited me to be your guest—”

“You’re uninvited.”

He tilts his head, frowning. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it. You’re done with me.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

I tip the glass to my lips again and take another long swig of the wine. I think my edges are finally starting to wear off—I’m finally beginning not to worry about the consequences of this little tryst between the two of us. I smile. “You told your brother you were done with me. The same asshole who said I was a desperate measure. That’s what you told him, right? That has to be why he said that to me. Desperate times call for desperate measures. That’s all I’ve been for you—some bullshit distraction—and you told him today you were done with me. And you know what? You’re just like every other asshole guy. You might have perfect pecs and unbelievable abs, and don’t get me started about your eyes—but you’re the same as every other motherfucking douchebag asshole—”

“Elle—”

“No. I’m not done. You can take your princely charm and…and…” I have to blink back my tears for a second. I shake my head before I take another drink of my wine. “It ends here. As soon as they knock on the door to rescue you from the crazy girl. But don’t worry, Leo, you can just wave your hand at me again and dismiss me like one of your servants. That’s probably the best way for us to say goodbye. At least I know my place that way, right? I’m just some menial, subservient—”

“Elle, you are nothing of the sort. That—what happened earlier… That was a misunderstanding.”

“Bullshit. That’s how you treat people. Like shit. Like you’re better than they are—”

“That isn’t true. Certainly, I’m different than others…” His mouth falls open a bit before he snaps it shut. “That isn’t what I meant to say at all. You know I don’t believe that, Elle. You of all people should understand. I lose my mind when I’m around you—things I mean to say come out wrong. Things I don’t mean seem to fall from my lips. It means nothing.”

“It means everything.” I shake my head. “The things that come out of your mouth—those are the things you’re thinking. Even if you don’t mean to say them out loud—it isn’t like the words come from some magical place where they don’t mean anything.”

We stare at each other for a long moment.

“Leo, you should go before one of us does something we regret. And you—you need to go. Just like you planned. It’s the only way. It’s the best thing. And once your family—or those fuckers outside start poking around…” My voice hitches a little. “You need to go.”

“I already told you, Elle. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m… You should go before something bad happens. And Owen… You should go.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind—and I know I probably have. Between the almost three glasses of wine and everything else that’s happened since I met him, I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be okay. I’m not sure how much more I can take before my life shatters at my feet.

“Did you bring a suitcase? You should get your things together so you’re ready to go when they come for you. I’ll be fine.” I motion in the direction of the front door. “I’ll handle the press. They’ll go away eventually, right?”

He flinches, almost like I’ve slapped him again. “I told you, I’m not leaving. We’ll wait it out together.”

I shake my head and motion toward the pocket where he shoved his phone a few minutes ago. “And your family? They’ll be okay with that? You don’t think they’re going to send in the Royal Military to come and get you? Because I think that’s a distinct possibility, Leo, especially when they start looking into my past. Into my family’s past.”

He lifts a brow and puts a hand into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and types something in before he holds it out to me. “Look.”

I lean over the counter to read the message.

Tell Father to call them off. I’m not leaving. Not without Elle.

I have to blink a few times and I read the message again. I shake my head before lifting my gaze to his. “Tell me something, Leo.”

He frowns. “Anything.”

“You said Owen told you that you could stay here with conditions. What were they?”

His lips curl into a small smile. “He told me he’d follow me to Montovia and make me sorry I was ever born if you so much as broke a fingernail because of me. I believe his terminology may have been a tad more crass, but that was the general message.”

I let out a long breath. “Leo, there’s something you should know.” I pause, looking into his eyes. I take in a long breath and open my mouth to tell him, but I don’t get a chance to say another word before we hear the pounding coming from the front door.

“Police! Open the door!”

* * *