I can’t say this is the first time local police have disrupted one of my dates, but this is the first time I’ve found myself facing the intrusion with a knot of dread in my stomach. Part of me is tempted to ignore them, but I know from the look in Elle’s eyes that she has no intention of letting me do any such thing.

She was about to tell me something, I think. Something important. Another secret she’s been keeping. But she seems to have thought better of the idea. Without a word, she turns and heads toward the front door.

I rub my forehead. Where did this all go wrong? She gave me the opportunity to win her over on a date—and I am usually the master of dates—but somehow we ended up right back where we started. I had her writhing in my arms again, for Christ’s sake. And then I went and set her blasted kitchen on fire. And insulted her with a careless gesture of dismissal. And left my phone in plain view.

Perhaps I deserve this after all.

But, no. She has to understand I’m not just using her. That what I said to Andrew was a mistake. That I’m not merely some arrogant, self-serving man who sees her as a desperate measure. What did she call me? Ah, that’s right—a motherfucking douchebag asshole.

I catch up to her at the front door.

“Let me handle them,” I tell her.

“And why should I trust you to do that?”

“They’re here for me, after all.” I reach around her and grab the door handle. “We were in the middle of a conversation, Elle, and I have every intention of finishing it.”

A fist pounds against the door again, making both of us jump.

“Open up!” comes a booming male voice from the other side. “This is the police!”

“Elle,” I say, lowering my voice so that they can’t hear us on the other side, “I need you to let me handle them.”

“So you can try and charm your way out of this mess? No, thank you. It will be easier for both of us if you just go with them.”

“On the contrary, Elle,” I say, leaning closer to her. “If they drag me out of here against my will in front of all those cameras, this situation will only get worse. For both of us.” I look into her eyes, but her expression is guarded. “You said you were worried about my family looking into your family’s past. What did you mean by that?”

A flicker of panic flashes in her eyes. “Leo, this isn’t the time—”

She’s cut off by another loud knock on the door.

“This is your last warning!” booms the man on the other side. “Open the door or we’ll have to use force.”

“We need to open the door,” Elle says.

“Not until you tell me what you’re so afraid my family will discover.”

“There isn’t enough time—”

“Elle, if my family can discover it, the media will, too. And if you plan to have me arrested, then I can’t help you.” I straighten, twisting the doorknob. “Let me help you, Elle.”

I don’t wait for her response before opening the door. Immediately, the cameras on the street begin flashing like mad, but I put on my most charming of smiles as I greet the two uniformed men standing on the doorstep.

“Good day, officers,” I say. “Forgive us for the delay. We were indisposed and didn’t hear you at first.”

One of the men—a tall, gangly fellow with dark hair—shifts his eyes between Elle and me. The other—a large, burly man who I suspect belongs to the booming voice—simply frowns.

“We were sent out here to remove you from the premises,” says the burly one, looking less-than-pleased to be assigned to this particular mission. “We were told you were being held here against your will and required immediate assistance.”

“Your Highness,” adds the taller one, which earns him a glare from his partner.

“Yes, well, as you can see,” I say, indicating the cluster of vans and reporters on the street, “we’ve found ourselves trapped here by a few overzealous members of the media. I understand these things can’t always be helped, but it would be much appreciated if you could remove them.”

Beside me, Elle shifts, but she doesn’t say a word.

“We were told to extract you from this situation,” the burly one says. “To escort you ourselves to the embassy.”

“Ah, well I can see that my poor father was misinformed of the situation,” I say lightly. “Though I suppose I can’t be that surprised, considering he’s on the other side of the world. I assure you, officers, I am not here against my will. But I would appreciate it if we were free to come and go as we please without being harassed. I hope they haven’t given you any trouble—I’d hate to drag any more people into this mess.”

“They wanted to know why we’re here,” says the gangly one. “But don’t worry—we know how to be discreet.”

If you knew that, you would have gone to the side or back door instead of conducting this scene in full view of the cameras. But I widen my grin.

“I can see that, and I thank you for it,” I say. “I know my father would have made sure that only the finest officers were sent to check in on me.”

The gangly man straightens his shoulders, smiling, but his burly partner isn’t buying it.

“It smells like something is burning,” he says.

“Ah, yes, we had a bit of an accident when we were making lunch,” I say. “I’d invite you in for something to eat, but I can’t imagine you’d want to try my cooking. We do have some wine, though, if I might interest you in a glass. Or some tea or soda? There’s no reason for us to be having this discussion out here on the doorstep. Perhaps you’d like to come in and get more comfortable?”

Beside me, Elle starts to protest. “Leo—”

She’s cut off by the burly officer. “That won’t be necessary.” He glares up at me. “I don’t like to have my time wasted. Our resources are limited enough as it is. Is there a problem here or isn’t there?”

“The only problem is the crowd out there on the street,” I say, waving my hand. “I’d be much obliged if you could send them off.”

“I’m afraid as long as they’re on public property, there’s not much we can do,” he says. His gaze shifts to Elle. “Ma’am, are there any further problems here?”

I look over at her, my chest tightening. If she really wishes to see me gone, now is her chance to say something—to tell these men I refuse to leave, or to corroborate my father’s claims somehow—and for a moment, I’m not sure whether or not she’ll take advantage of the opportunity to be rid of me. She looks out at the reporters on the street, then up at me.

“Ma’am?” the officer says again.

In her eyes, I see many different emotions—anger, fear, confusion, hope—and I don’t know what to make of it. She turns back to the police officer.

“The only problem is them,” she says, indicating the press. “Is there really nothing you can do to get them to leave?”

“We can try,” says the gangly one. He looks over at his partner. “Seeing as this is a diplomatic mission and all, couldn’t we at least try?”

“They still have every right to be on public property,” the burly one says. “And most of them know it. But we can say a few words to them on the way out.” He’s still frowning as he looks us over one more time. “In the future, I would appreciate it if you and your family went through more appropriate channels rather than using the county’s resources for something like this. There are people under our jurisdiction who actually need help.”

“And I genuinely appreciate your commitment to your job,” I say. “As well as the thorough way in which you have handled this situation, in spite of your personal feelings. I will ensure that my father knows of your service—in fact, if you care to give me your full names and contact information, I will personally see that you are given a reward for your good work.”

“We don’t need any rewards,” says the burly one. “This is our job.”

But when he sees that his partner is already enthusiastically scribbling down his information on a slip of paper, he rather sheepishly does the same.

“Have a fine afternoon, officers,” I say as they retreat down the steps. “Thank you for your concern.”

The reporters and photographers move toward the officers the moment they can, eager for any information they can get about why law enforcement might have been called here. We’re too far away to hear what the officers say to them in return, so I close the door and turn back to Elle.

“Do you think it’ll work?” she asks me. “Do you think they’ll actually get them to leave?”

I shrug. I wish I could assure her that the media is no longer a concern, but even if they do leave, this is only the beginning.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” I tell her. “There’s little we can do but wait.” And finish our conversation.

Elle is biting her nail. “I should have told them to take you away from here.”

“Perhaps. But you decided to trust me instead.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“No,” I say, placing my hands on either one of her shoulders and turning her toward me. “Because you fear something else far more than you fear the things you feel when you’re around me.”

Her eyes open. “I can still call the police back here. I can still tell them to get you out of my house.”

“First, I want you to tell me what you’re so afraid of,” I say. “What horrible secret are you afraid everyone will learn? You’re talking about something beyond what your abhorrent boss did to you, aren’t you? And why were you so interested in your brother’s conditions for my coming here?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says. “Just forget it.”

I thought I knew the darkest parts of her past, the secrets she was afraid the press would learn. But looking at her now, I realize I was wrong. There’s a much deeper dread hiding inside of her.

And I intend to do everything in my power to uncover what’s causing it.

“I don’t intend to forget it,” I tell her. “In fact, I don’t intend to do anything else at all until you tell me exactly what’s going on.”

* * *