by Lara Hunter
“That sounds like a horrible option,” Mom said.
“Yeah,” I crinkled my nose, setting the kettle on the stove. “Now that I say it out loud, it does. Earlier, I was thinking I could at least set the story straight, get them off my back, and get a little money while I’m at it.”
“Yes, but only by selling out someone you care about,” she reminded me. “Which is not something that I raised you to do.”
“Well, that option is completely off the table then.” I turned on the burner and moved over to the tea cupboard, selecting a tea bag and my favorite mug. “My next option is to hide in my apartment until they go away.”
“That might not be very long,” my mom suggested. “Especially if he’s not that major a celebrity.”
I furrowed my brow in thought. Where did a European prince come in on the celebrity scale? Kasper had always seemed like a major deal to me, but then again, that probably had more to do with my crush than anything else.
“I would say he ranks below A-list movie star but above talk show host,” I replied.
“Hmm. You could be waiting a while. Have you tried talking to him?”
“I tried to. But I got his assistant, who hates me for no reason,” I said.
“That doesn’t sound very hopeful.”
I sat down on one of my dining chairs, the wood creaking beneath me. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for him to reach out to me,” I decided. “I’m just so sick of waiting, you know?”
“I don’t think you should have to, honey. I say ignore the paparazzi and say screw it to the guy,” Mom suggested. “Where is he, anyway? If he knew there was going to be a press blitz about you going to this ball with him, he should have headed it off—or warned you at the very least.”
A sense of righteous indignation stirred in my chest.
“You’re right,” I replied. “This isn’t fair.”
“No it’s not,” she said approvingly. “Keep your chin up, Laurie. Do you want me to bring you some dinner over? Are you eating well enough?”
I smiled and got up to check on the kettle. “I’m fine, Mom. Just stressed out. Thank you, though.”
“Well don’t let this get you too down,” she said. “Keep your chin up, and call me if you need anything. Your brothers and I can be out there in no time.”
I choked up at the thought of my mom and brothers coming to defend me. I missed them.
“I’ll come by for dinner sometime next week,” I said, after a pause. “Maybe I’ll have an update to share around then.”
“Good! I’ll see what Avery and Jake are up to. Love you, baby.”
“Love you, too.”
I hung up and set my phone on the counter while I poured out my tea. Somehow, talking things out with my mom had just made my heart ache more. She had almost nothing, yet she was willing to spring up and tackle my problems for me head on, no questions asked.
Where was Kasper? Why was he being so cold?
And why, more than anything else in my life, did that fact make me feel so alone?
FOURTEEN
One of the things you learn as a maid is that there’s always something that can be cleaned. Grout, window tracks, the gap between the counter and the stove—you name it, it can be cleaned. And that was how I chose to spend my Saturday. I had plenty of food in the house and nothing else to do, so why not spend the day deep cleaning? I put on some of my favorite tunes, changed into some old sweatpants, and rocked around the apartment until the whole place smelled of fresh lemon. And then I cleaned a little more.
I’d always found cleaning to be cathartic. That was one of several reasons why I’d been so keen to accept the job offer at Kasper’s mansion after I lost my scholarship funding—along with the fact that the pay was great, and I was intrigued by my mysterious employer.
I completely lost myself in my work, and barely even heard the knock at the door. I perked up, wiping a sheen of sweat from my forehead.
Could it be Kasper? Finally coming to explain himself?
I tiptoed carefully over to the door, intent on catching a peek of my visitor before I decided whether to open the door or not.
I sighed heavily when I saw that the man on the other side of the door wasn’t Kasper—not unless Kasper had donned a disguise involving a bristling brown moustache. Disappointment flooded in.
I stepped back over to my speakers and turned them off before going to open the door, leaving the deadbolt on.
“Can I help you?” I asked politely.
The main smiled at me, revealing a row of yellowing teeth. “My name is Augustus Beeken,” he said. “I’m part of Prince van Dijk’s overseas envoy.”
I looked him up and down, suspicious. “I’ve never seen you before.”
The man smiled and produced a business card from his coat. It was a fine-looking coat, clearly designer. Perhaps he did work with Kasper.
He handed me the card, which I studied intently. All the details were as he said, but that didn’t mean much.
“Anybody could have a business card made,” I argued. “Especially a reporter.”
Augustus nodded. “That’s very true,” he said. “But how many reporters do you know who speak fluent Dutch?”
His accent did sound very similar to Kasper’s, but that didn’t prove anything.
“Say something,” I challenged.
The man smiled and rattled off a sentence that I couldn’t hope to understand. And anyway, I was growing tired with the conversation.
“What do you want?” I asked. “I’m not really in the mood for a chat, as you can see.” I gestured to my T-shirt and sweatpants. “I’ve had a long day.”
“I’m here on behalf of Kasper’s mother,” Augustus explained. “She has some concerns about the nature of your relationship with her son. As she’s been unable to contact him, she has asked me to inquire on her behalf.”
I frowned. That certainly seemed to fit with the image I’d formed so far about Kasper’s American mother. She was a high-society heiress who cared an awful lot about image, and having some commoner dating her son would likely bring on some anxiety.
“There’s nothing to know,” I told Augustus flatly. “I’m nobody. Please just leave.”
I started to close the door, but the man shot his hand out and prevented me from doing so. His smile transformed into a grimace. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
“Let go of my door!” I yelled, shocked. “And stay away from me!”
I pushed against him, throwing my weight against the door. I didn’t see the camera that he snuck through the crack until too late. It flashed in my face, black spots appearing in my vision.
Finally, I was able to slam the door closed. I heard Augustus—or whoever he was—laugh from the hallway.
“Creep!” I yelled after him.
His laughter receded down the hall, but I kept an eye on my peephole just to be safe. When I was sure he was gone, I slid down with my back against the door, putting my head in my hands.
The worst part about all of this was that I knew it would be worth it if Kasper was here. Even if he wasn’t in my apartment with me, just knowing that he knew what I was going through would be enough. But Kasper had jetted out as quickly as he could.
Perhaps scandals, like communicable disease, could only exist so long without a host. And Kasper, knowing that fact, had chosen to leave rather than face up to what he’d helped create. If only I had the resources to seek refuge myself.
FIFTEEN
I woke up in my spotless apartment, feeling a little better than I had the night before. Having heard nothing from Kasper, I figured it was safe to assume I wouldn’t be hearing from him again. And I had more or less accepted this fact.
Heading to the kitchen, I put the kettle on the stove to boil some water for coffee, tossed some bread in the toaster, and pulled out jam and butter from the fridge. Then I went back to grab milk for my coffee. Only there was no milk.
“Dammit,” I muttered, rifling around in my fri
dge in case I’d just misplaced it. Still, no milk.
Normally, I’d pop to the corner store down the street, but I loathed the idea of running into those reporters again. But hey, was I going to let them run my life?
Resolved, I got dressed quickly and came back out to eat my toast. I put on a thick coat and gloves, opting to cover as much of my skin as possible—like it would help. But I was going to face my demons today. The ones with cameras, anyway. I just hoped they weren’t as aggressive as yesterday.
The elevator doors opened to the lobby of my building, but I couldn’t see any reporters lurking out near the front door. I stepped closer and peered through the glass. Still, nothing. Odd. Good, but odd.
It seemed strange to me that the reporters would give up after only one day, but clearly I wasn’t a good enough story for them.
Fine with me. I never wanted to be a good story anyway.
I strolled to the corner store with a lightness that I hadn’t felt in some time. I was going to get my milk, make some coffee, and have a stellar rest of the day. A stellar, reporter-free rest of the day.
***
The clerk at the convenience store stared at me when I walked in, but I assumed it was just because I had my coat up to my ears and was deliberately not trying to make eye contact. I grabbed the milk quickly, and was just about to head up to the till when I saw it.
Holy. Hell.
I snatched the tabloid off the rack, my eyes glued to the cover. There I was—my hair in a messy bun, wearing a T-shirt and ratty pair of sweatpants, yelling at the reporter to get out of my apartment. He’d managed to get the photo at the exact moment I looked my craziest. My eyes were bugged out in ire, mouth open and snarling. I looked terrifying.
Underneath, a caption in bold letters read, “PRINCE and the PAUPER, Full Story Inside!”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. No. No! I hadn’t told him anything, how could there be a full story inside?
Panicked, I flipped open the magazine and began reading. The milk carton tumbled from my hand, and I made a haphazard attempt to catch it, only to watch it splatter open all over the floor.
“Hey!” the clerk yelled. “You’re paying for that!”
“I’m sorry,” I sputtered. “I’m so sorry.”
But I wasn’t talking to the clerk; not really. The sobs that filled the air weren’t over the spilt milk. And I think the employee knew that, because he quickly ushered me out of the store without further ado. I was forced to leave the newspaper behind, but that was fine. I didn’t want that kind of poison in my possession anyway.
The milk splashes on my pants froze in the biting wind. I soldiered on to my apartment, trying not to cause too much of a scene on my way. The last thing I needed was to have a breakdown in the middle of the street. Who knew if the press were still following me? They’d gotten their story, yes, but a piece on my public breakdown would no doubt draw in some bonus cash, too.
As soon as I got in the door, I curled up in a ball in my bed and put the covers over my head, just like I’d done as a child. Then I let loose, allowing myself to cry without hindrance.
I’d always known that the tabloids were cruel, but I’d never realized what that actually meant on a human level. And now here I was, a walking scandal. I’d refused to sell my story, so the reporter who came to my door had made one up. He’d painted me as a lying charlatan. Laurie Flowers—the maid with delusions of doctoral grandeur.
They hadn’t been particularly kind to Kasper, either. The article had called him “unbalanced” and “reckless.” And I was the kind of by-product that one could expect from a royal gone mad: a liar; an angry, impulsive woman whose explosion was now front-page news for everyone to see.
I felt sick to my stomach and my whole body ached. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And I knew what it meant for me. I knew what it had to mean. I couldn’t go back to working for Kasper, not after being publically lambasted and shamed. I was surprised he hadn’t called me—or had Christopher call me—to fire me already.
I’d betrayed him. Or, at least, that was how it looked. I’d made him look like a fool, all because I couldn’t keep it together in front of a few reporters. I’d snapped like a twig. How did he keep so collected all the time?
I was exhausted. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I hadn’t had any coffee yet. I knew what tomorrow would bring. I knew what I would have to do. I would allow myself one night to let everything go, to fall apart and be a complete mess. But after that, I would have to do better.
I would have to start over. Again.
SIXTEEN
My car rumbled up the driveway to Kasper’s mansion for what would almost certainly be the last time, and I felt a stabbing ache in my chest. I loved that house. I loved the peace, the quiet. I loved how each day would bring the opportunity to see the Prince. Maybe I’d walk past him in the hall on my way to the kitchen. Maybe I’d catch him on his way out, and he’d wish me a good day.
Those had been my reasons to love that mansion, at least.
Now, the same reasons were driving me to leave. I couldn’t stand the thought of running into Kasper. I was too mortified. Too upset. Too emotional in general. My heart was racing, just from crawling up the driveway.
Barb’s car was parked by the front steps. I gulped, feeling horrible for abandoning her. She’d have to do all the cleaning by herself until she found someone new, and that could take weeks. It wasn’t easy bringing in new workers to the home of a royal. Barb would have to perform all sorts of screenings and background checks on the shortlisted applicants. Plus, Kasper would probably want to meet them himself.
Kasper. Was he here?
I looked around for his town car as I parked, but didn’t see it among the other staff vehicles. It was a full house, which meant lots of people to avoid. And just because I didn’t see Kasper’s car, didn’t mean he wasn’t there. It was an unsettling thought.
I huffed a sigh as I stepped from my car, and the smoke of my breath curled off into the ashen morning sky. The cold bit at me, and the smell of dampness in the air seemed to hint at another snowfall coming soon. If I hadn’t already ruined my chances with Kasper, I might have allowed my thoughts to dreamily drift over to the possibility of getting snowed in with him again.
But I did ruin it. So I snuffed out all happy little fantasies before they reached fruition.
The foyer was empty, but I could hear someone walking around upstairs, close to the railing. Fearing that Kasper might peek over any moment and see me, I ducked down the small service hallway and into the laundry room.
Barb was sitting at the table, having her morning cup of tea. She looked up at me in surprise.
“Hey, Laurie. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she remarked.
I grimaced. I forgot that she didn’t know anything. Yet.
Trying to act casual, I tossed on a smile. “Just cold,” I lied.
I didn’t know what to do from here. I’d hoped not to see Barb—or anyone else, for that matter. It was supposed to be a simple sneak in, drop off resignation letter, sneak out operation. And now I’d complicated things.
“You’re not in your uniform,” Barb tutted.
“Yeah. About that…” I stepped closer to Barb, placing chilly hands on the back of the chair opposite her. “I’m actually not here to stay.”
Barb blinked and put down her mug. The look on her face—a mixture of disappointment and worry—threatened to break me. I suddenly regretted choosing not to lie to her.
“Not here to stay?” Barb asked. “Are you ill or something?”
She looked me up and down, assessing potential damage. There was plenty, but none above the surface. She was offering me another chance to lie to her, but I just couldn’t do it. Barb deserved better. She was stern, yes, but she was a good supervisor. And I knew she cared.
“I’m quitting,” I blurted out, then.
Barb’s eyebrows knitted together. “Hmm,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” I added hastily. “I just… I can’t work here anymore.”
“Might this have something to do with a certain magazine article?” she asked, brushing a stray lock of greying hair from her forehead.
“You know about that?” I cocked my head to the side, curious as to why she hadn’t mentioned it right off the bat.