by Sienna Blake
Don’t get used to this, my inner voice warns. He’s going to break your heart when he leaves.
It’s too late, I realise, as a wave of emotion so intense crashes through me, wrapping around my heart and squeezing so hard it hurts.
I am so in love with this man.
I gasp against the feelings against this realisation. I thought I was being careful, but he got under my skin. He snuck under the walls I erected. I want to grab onto Grayson with both hands and never let go. My fingers flinch involuntarily.
His eyelashes flutter as he wakes, his arms already reaching for me, his whole body turning towards me as if I were his sun.
Stop torturing yourself, Sophia. You mean nothing to him.
I try to capture everything I’m feeling and stuff it down into a box, the one I keep that holds all my bad feelings. But it’s too late.
His smile morphs into a frown as he gazes upon my face. Perhaps he’s noticed the way my lips press together, trying not to wobble. Or the way the corners of my eyes feel full and wet.
“What’s wrong?” he demands, sitting up against the head of the bed and pulling me onto his lap so that I’m straddled over him. His hands slide over my jaw, my cheeks in such a caring way, his gaze so full of concern it unlatches this box.
A sob releases from me even as I shake my head, nothing’s wrong.
I’m such a liar. And he knows it.
“Sophia,” he says softly. “Tell me. I can fix it.”
You can’t fix it, I want to scream.
“I’m just sad…”
“About?” He lifts my chin, forcing me to look right into his eyes.
“You’re leaving tomorrow.”
His face falls, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. He wanted no strings. No attachments. And here I went and caught the feels, like an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, “I know I’m not supposed to feel this way. But…”
“But you do.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment at my feelings laid so bare. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face. Or the inevitable rejection. Dammit, Sophia, why couldn’t you have just kept your feelings hidden?
“What if…” he says, “this doesn’t have to end?”
What? My eyes snap open. His face reveals nothing.
“What do you mean?” I ask slowly, cautioning myself not to jump to conclusions.
He sighs, his face screwing up. “I don’t know how it could work. I just…I don’t want this to end either.”
“But…no attachments. No strings,” I repeat the rules that he had placed on us. I can scarcely dare to hope.
He winces and tucks me closer against him, our naked bodies pressed against each other.
“I know what I said.” His hand brushes over my hair, cupping my head to hold me just there. “But I know what I feel.”
He leans in, pressing his mouth to mine. His kiss is gentle yet firm. He holds my head to him with one hand, my body with the other so that I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to.
And I don’t want to. Not now. Not ever.
I let myself feel everything I’ve been repressing for the last week. My heart swells, filling with joy, love…hope. I moan into his mouth as our kiss heats up, sending heat flooding into my core, his growing erection against my belly.
My front door hammers, startling us. For a second we pause, the moment ruined, neither of us wanting to let the world back in.
“Sophia, open the door.” I recognise Nicolai’s deep voice, and he sounds beyond pissed.
Shit.
Grayson and I scramble out of bed. I grab my dressing gown as Grayson tugs on his slacks that sit low on his hips. I don’t have time to enjoy the view, though, as the pounding intensifies.
“Open this door, Sophia, or I will break it the fuck down.”
“Hang on,” I call out as I race to the front door vibrating in its frame.
I throw open the door and Nicolai barrels past me. “Where is he?”
“Relax, Nicolai,” Grayson says as he emerges from my bedroom, buttoning up his shirt. “I’m unharmed.”
Nicolai’s nostrils flare as he takes the prince in. Grayson is still barefoot, his hair disheveled. There is no way in hell that Nicolai does not know what we did last night. And almost interrupted this morning.
“I can’t believe you would do this,” Nicolai says, sounding more like an angry parent than a bodyguard. “Do you have any idea how insane it made me to walk into your bedroom this morning and find you gone?”
Grayson sniffs. “I left a note saying I was fine.”
Nicolai’s eyes turn into saucers and his neck grows a tomato shade of red.
“Fine? FINE? Do you have any idea of the mess you’re in?” Nicolai glances at me as he says the word mess.
I bristle. I’m about to yell my defense when Grayson interrupts. “Don’t you dare talk about Sophia like she’s not even here.”
Grayson strides right up to Nicolai, toe to toe, and matches his glare. If these two start brawling, it’ll be like two wrecking balls pinballing around my apartment. My place will be destroyed in three seconds flat.
Nicolai snorts, undeterred by Grayson’s aggression. “You had your fun, Your Highness. Now it’s time to go.”
“Sophia is coming with me.”
I am?
I should be annoyed that he’d make such a decision for me without my agreeing to it. But I’m not.
He wants something with me. A future. We could be something…real.
My heart swells so big I have to press my hand on my chest to keep it from spilling over.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Nicolai mutters. “You’re in love with her.”
I stare at Grayson, watching his reaction. Is he? He never actually said that he loved me.
Grayson looks startled. “I…”
Nicolai growls. “Does she know about the agreement you’ve made with the King of Monaco? Of your engagement?”
Engagement? I blink, trying to clear my head of this word that keeps echoing in it. “Grayson?”
Grayson turns slowly towards me. He has a defeated look on his face. The blood drains from my limbs. He’s engaged?
“Y-you’re engaged?” I manage. “The Princess of Monaco,” I realise.
“I was going to tell you…” he begins. “I told you I came here on business. The truth is, I came here to broker a marriage agreement.”
“But you’re going to end the engagement,” I say. He wants me. Maybe loves me. He wants me to come with him. Be with him. Right?
A look of pure guilt steals across his face. “She’s royalty. I have to marry—”
“What was I supposed to be…” my voice raising in volume, “your mistress? You want to marry a stranger because she is royalty but have me as your little fuck toy at your beck and call?”
He winces. “You make it sound so sordid.”
My head spins. “How else is it supposed to sound, Grayson?”
“I’d take care of you, look after you.” He takes a step closer to me. “I can’t offer you marriage, but I can give you everything else. Anything else.”
The ball we were at, where he danced with the princess. He sent me away because the Princess of Monaco was arriving. That’s how it’d always be.
He wasn’t offering me a future. That future was for her. I’d never be able to dance with him in public or hold his hand. I’d only get him in the bedroom, a secret locked away from the public.
No. I was in love with Grayson, but I would not accept a half-life with him. I could not.
“You cannot make her your mistress,” Nicolai growls.
Grayson whips around to Nicolai. “You have no right to tell me what I can or can’t do.”
Nicolai grabs the remote to my television and switches it on.
“There,” he jabs the remote at the television. “Sophia isn’t who you think she is. She’s been lying to you.”
Grayson turns towards th
e television, where the morning news is playing. Blood drains from my body as my arrest photo from seven years ago flashes up on-screen.
Sophia
My sixteen-year-old face flashes up on the television screen. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. It had been the turning point for me.
I see on his face the second that Grayson recognises me, and my heart breaks. This is the moment that I lose him.
The presenter’s voice cuts through the silence in the room.
“…news of the upcoming nuptials between the prince and the Princess of Monaco was leaked from the Monaco palace yesterday. But sources say the British Prince Grayson Windsor the third has been carrying out a clandestine affair with the current acting hotel manager of the Merrion Resort during his stay. The woman identified as Sophie Laurence, currently living under the alias of Sophia Lauren, has an arrest record in the United States.
“Sources near to the Princess of Monaco say that she is devastated at what has come to light. Will the King of Monaco allow his only daughter to marry the handsome royal at the centre of this scandal? This reporter sincerely doubts it.”
I knew that I’d have to tell Grayson sooner or later. But I wanted him to find out from me, not like this.
Grayson stares at me as if he’d never seen me before. “Sophia, is this…true?”
“I was going to tell you…” I trail off, too aware that I was using the very same words he did before. “It’s not what you think…” I mean, it is, but…
“Your Highness,” Nicolai says, “we should go before—”
Grayson holds up a hand to silence him. “Explain yourself.” His voice has gone frosty.
I let out a deep breath as I try to keep the tears at bay. “My mother was a drifter. A con artist. When I got old enough, she taught me to run scams with her. I never had a home because she and I were always moving, always on the run from whomever we’d just ripped off. I never knew my father. It’s not a life I chose.”
Grayson’s lips press together, whitening. “So I’m just another target. This,” he waves a hand between us, “is just another…” A scam.
He thinks I could do that to him?
I shake my head, tears running down my cheeks. “As soon as I got old enough, as soon as I squirrelled away enough money, I ran away from her and never looked back. I left that life behind seven years ago. I am not that girl anymore. I came here where nobody knew me. I started as a cleaner at this resort and worked my way up. I did it honestly.”
Grayson stares at me. “Even if I were to believe that…” He trails off, his face torn.
I understand perfectly the war going on inside of him.
He loves me. But he cannot have anything to do with me. He wants so badly to restore respectability to his family. He can’t do that with me in his life, an ex-con. His younger brother can weather all the scandals he likes, but the future King of England cannot afford to.
Nicolai lays a hand on Grayson’s shoulder. “There is a car waiting to take us to the airport where there is a private jet waiting. All your things are already taken care of.”
Stay, I want to beg him. But don’t.
Take me with you, I want to scream. But can’t.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to him instead. So sorry, for so many things.
He says nothing.
I take in his face, his broad shoulders, trying to memorise them. I know this’ll be the last time I ever see him in person. He’ll walk out of here and he’ll still be the future King of England. I will still be no one.
He walks past me, Nicolai following close behind him. I hear the door click shut, leaving me alone. I collapse into a broken heap as he takes my heart with him.
Sophia
I walk through the resort to my boss’s office with my eyes cast down. Every face I walk past—all the staff members whom I’d helped over the years—turn to follow me, whispers trailing after me like a dusty hot wind. After all I’ve done for them. I thought this place was home. Sort of. I thought these people were family. Kind of.
Turns out I was wrong.
I halt as someone stands in my way. When I look up, Christina is standing there in her trademark grey skirt suit, her hands fisted on her hips.
The grin she gives me glistens with scarlet lipstick and triumph. “My, how the mighty have fallen. I always knew you were too good to be true.”
“Did you do it?” I ask, seething.
“Slip the news story to the TV stations?” Her smile widens. “Of course I did.”
My hand closes into a fist. I want to punch her. But that will just get me into more trouble than it’s worth.
“What proof did you have?”
“Proof?” She lets out a laugh. “You should know better than anyone that the media doesn’t need proof to run a story.”
The utter bitch. I hope she burns in hell.
“Although I can’t take credit for uncovering your sordid criminal history. The TV station dug that up on their own. I have to say that this worked out better for me than I ever imagined.”
Be the better woman, Sophia. Just walk away.
“Get out of my way, Christina,” I say in a quiet warning voice. I just want to get to Kane’s office and get this over with.
“As you wish, Your Highness,” she says with a wicked laugh. She sidesteps me and curtseys. Curtseys. Fuck her.
I grit my teeth, thrust my chin in the air and keep walking.
When I enter George Kane’s office, he’s sitting behind the desk, a somber look on his face. I was hoping for friendliness. A small slice of comradery. After seven years of loyal service. Of friendship.
I was hoping for too much.
I move towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“You don’t have to sit,” he says. “This won’t take long.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach.
“You’ve disappointed me, Sophia.”
I go to reply but he raises a finger to silence me. I withdraw back into myself like a chastised child.
“This is a luxury resort. We have the highest reputation. You understand why we can’t keep you on.”
No. I knew I’d be in trouble, but… “Does seven years of loyal service mean nothing?”
He slams a fist on his desk. “Your goddamn arrest photo is splashed across the news. What will the hotel guests say when they are greeted by you? Huh?”
A knot develops in my throat. He’s right. I’d do the same thing if I were in his position. I nod to let him know that I understand.
“You need to be out of the resort apartment by the end of the week.”
I nod. I don’t have many things. It’ll take me a day at most to pack everything up.
“The severance pay is more than generous,” he continues. “You have a lot of annual leave banked up, too. It should tide you over until…” He trails off.
Indeed. Until…what?
The giant gaping hole looms out in front of me. My old life is over once again. My new life…
I have no idea what I’m going to do next. Where I’m going to go. What I’m going to do.
I know who I wanted to figure that out with.
Grayson.
I would have given everything up for him, I realise. I would have given up my life here, my job, my career. I would have moved to England, lived in a cold palace, worn stuffy dresses, drunk tea with my pinky raised.
Anything to be with him. Anything to wake up beside him every morning like we did this morning. Was that only this morning? How quickly things can change. How quickly your life can be ripped out from underneath you.
I would have weathered this scandal with him. Taken all the gossip and whispers behind gloved hands for him for the rest of my life.
But Grayson left. He doesn’t want me anymore. I clamp down on the tears that threaten to spill over.
Here I am having lost my job, my apartment, my life…and the only thing that hurts is losing him.
Grayson
Fo
ur weeks later…
“…as you can see in the report, I’ve stipulated that the country’s economy can weather the upcoming…”
I’m barely listening as the Minister for Finance drones on and on about something that should matter to me but I can’t seem to give two shits about at this moment. I stare out the window of my palace office at the view across the manicured gardens instead of the sea. The sky is cloudy and grey, typical English weather. Unlike Monaco.
I wonder whether it’s sunny in Monaco. I wonder what Sophia’s doing. Whether she has the day off. Whether she still thinks of me. Whether she hates me.
I burn with guilt when I remember how I just ran out of there, left without so much as a goodbye. I was in shock. So ready to believe that she, like everyone else, just wanted me for the crown or the wealth or the power.
I know that’s not true. Sophia hasn’t breathed a word to the media. She has denied the story from all the reports I’ve seen. She could have sold her story for a lot of money. She didn’t. Slowly over the last few weeks, the story has died without legs to carry it.
My marriage to Princess of Monaco has been severed, though. I wasn’t even a bit disappointed with that.
I’ve wanted to call Sophia to see how she’s doing, but I don’t have her number. Hell, I wanted to get on a goddamn plane and hunt her down and…
And what?
What would I say to her? What could I offer her?
Shame coats my insides when I remember how I’d asked her to be my mistress. My mistress! Sophia deserves nothing less than to be queen, with a golden crown on her beautiful head and all the world bowing down to her.
But she’d never accept me. I remember what she said in that elevator when we first met, when she didn’t know who I was.
“I don’t want to be in the spotlight. In fact, I think I can’t think of anything I’d hate more.”
“Prince Grayson?”
I blink, realising too late that the Minister for Finance probably asked me a question. A question I didn’t hear, and I have no hope of answering. Dear fucking God. I am a mess. I might look fine from the outside—tailored suit, polished shoes, straight tie—but that’s because I have people who are paid to keep up my appearances.