A Royal Disaster

by Jennifer Bonds

A wave of desire crashed over him, but before he could respond, Elena stepped up to the window and greeted Andres in Spanish. Liam understood little of their rapid-fire exchange as he fished out his wallet to pay. When Andres gave him the total, he must’ve done a poor job masking his surprise at such an inexpensive meal, because Elena looked up at him and shrugged.

  “What can I say? I’m a cheap date.” Then she turned back to Andres and reached for the paper bags he offered. “Gracias.”

  Food in hand, they crossed the street to a tiny garden hemmed in by a wrought iron fence. The simple placard by the gate read La Plaza Cultural. Although the fence was overgrown with trees and shrubs, it was topped with colorful metal flowers that made the otherwise forbidding vegetation feel inviting.

  Elena stepped through the gate and Liam followed. The little garden didn’t look like much, just a small green space with a few benches, but as he followed Elena’s lead, the space seemed to open up, revealing a hidden gem that would’ve otherwise been easy to overlook in the sprawling city.

  “This is incredible,” he said, inhaling the scent of freshly tilled dirt mingled with early spring blossoms.

  “It’s a community garden,” Elena said, pointing to an area where several small plots were fenced off and greenery was just starting to push up through the ground. “People volunteer to manage the gardens, rainwater collection, composting, and even the artwork.”

  “I had no idea places like this existed,” Liam admitted, feeling slightly abashed at his own ignorance. “What an incredible way to bring people together.”

  Lena slipped her arm through his, steering him toward a small gazebo. “It’s one of my favorite places in the neighborhood. It’s so peaceful. And perfect for a picnic lunch.”

  Better still, no paparazzi.

  They settled into the gazebo and Elena opened the lunch bags, the scent of spiced meat and warm dough tantalizing him even as his stomach growled, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast in favor of an early morning trade call.

  “Try the empanadilla first,” Elena said, handing him a flaky golden pastry shaped like a half moon. It looked like a smaller version of the meat pies that were once popular in Valeria—a throwback to their British roots—but smelled infinitely better. The dough was light and flaky and the edges had been pinched flat to keep the contents, whatever they were, inside.

  Elena watched expectantly as he raised the proffered empanadilla to his lips.

  The first bite melted on his tongue, the stuffed pastry spilling spicy chicken, cheese, and peppers into his mouth. He couldn’t identify the spices, but he was certain the palace chef wasn’t using anything like it in his meals at home. Something he’d have to rectify when he returned, because Elena was right, he was going to need more cuchifritos in his life.

  He chewed slowly, savoring the complex flavor as Elena pulled another empanadilla from the bag and took a bite herself. “Mmm. So. Good.”

  He couldn’t argue, but even better than the heavenly pastry was the look of absolute abandon on Elena’s face. She relished each bite, and whether it was the food, the atmosphere, or better still—the company—her joy was evident.

  “You may have been right about ruining my taste buds for all other cuisine,” Liam admitted, reaching in the bag to grab another empanadilla and a napkin. “We don’t have anything like this in Valeria, and I can’t imagine going another twenty-eight years without cuchifritos. Think I could convince Andres to give me the recipe?”

  Elena threw her head back and laughed, her dark hair cascading down her back in shiny waves he ached to fist his hands in.

  “I think it’s unlikely.” She reached into the bag and pulled out another pastry, this one darker and shaped like an oversized ladyfinger. “If you like the empanadillas, you’re going to love the alcapurrias. Here.”

  She offered him the pastry and, realizing his hands were full, she raised it to his mouth so he could take a bite. It was a strangely intimate gesture, and their eyes locked, a flush blooming on Elena’s cheeks as he opened his mouth.

  The savory beef fritter was delicious, but it paled in comparison to the woman who held it. Who was he kidding? The only thing he wanted to sample right now was Elena’s lips. He’d been too long without a taste of her sweetness and he craved it as he’d never craved anything else in his life. He still remembered the way she’d melted against him, her curves as soft and luscious as he’d imagined, as she’d poured herself into their kiss.

  Just the memory of it was enough to steal his breath.

  But this was business, not pleasure, and he needed to remember it if he didn’t want to find himself locked in a loveless political marriage. The problem was, the more time he spent with Elena, the more apparent it became he was living a half-life. He gave 100 percent to his royal duties, always putting Valeria and her people first, which left little time or energy to indulge his own desires. But with Elena at his side, he was finally getting a taste of what life could be if he were afforded the same emotional freedom and opportunities for unfettered joy the rest of Valeria enjoyed.

  As if sensing his dark thoughts, Elena looked away, her gaze landing on the small, rock-lined pond. “I guess we should talk about the broadcast.” With a sigh, she dropped the half-eaten alcapurria back into the bag and set it aside.

  Liam wiped his hands on a napkin, striving for casual. He would much rather kiss her into oblivion but, since that option was off the table, talking would have to do. It was practically poetic justice.

  Nothing could kill a hard-on faster than ex talk.

  “Chad and I dated for six months. We weren’t super serious, but I guess some part of me thought we might get there eventually.” A bird landed on the gazebo rail and Elena watched as it hopped along the edge before dropping to the ground to peck at something in the dirt. “I should’ve known better. God knows there were plenty of red flags.” She huffed out a breath, her nostrils flaring. “Actually, that’s being generous. The truth is, dating Chad was like dating a man-child. It was kind of fun at first. We went to Comic-Con and hit up some great bands, but when things didn’t go his way, he would throw these tantrums and—”

  She paused and raised a hand as if to silence herself.

  “You know what? It doesn’t matter. None of what he said today is true.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Well, except for the part about him suing me. That part’s true. Obviously,” she added, toying with the hem of her white blouse. “I probably should have told you before. Or told Fin, I guess. Probably would’ve helped with strategy, but I never imagined it would come to this. I can’t believe I ever dated that pendejo. Seriously, who goes on television to humiliate their ex like that? Did you see the picture? Oh God. The whole city’s seen it. I’ll never be able to show my face at Sweet Celebrations again. First the crazy donut slinger, now this?”

  Liam listened patiently as Elena vented, the words flowing from her in a rush, as if the dam holding back all the frustration, anger, and embarrassment had burst from the pressure of keeping it all contained.

  “I’ll be back to public enemy number one by this time tomorrow,” Elena said, visibly deflating as she ran out of steam. “And my abuela. I can only imagine what she thinks of all this nonsense.” She kicked a small rock with the toe of her sneaker, watching as it skittered across the wooden floor and down the steps. “I should’ve taken Nia’s advice and confronted the asshat the minute he served me with the lawsuit.”

  Liam fought the urge to laugh. He could easily imagine Elena and Nia dishing out their own brand of vigilante justice, and he for one did not want to be on the receiving end of it. He’d paid the purple price for his own transgression and he had no interest in a repeat performance.

  “I’d understand if you want out of our deal,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

  Was she serious? He didn’t want out. If anything, the broadcast had renewed his determination to help he
r save the studio. There was no way in hell he was going to walk away and leave her to handle this mess on her own. “I’m not going anywhere. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.”

  She straightened and when she looked at him, her eyes were guarded. “Why put yourself through all of this when you could just as easily walk away?”

  As if it were truly that easy. He could no more walk away at this point than he could sprout wings and fly to the moon. “Because now that I’ve gotten to know you, I can’t imagine anyone less deserving of such a raw deal. The fact that you’re willing to let me out of our agreement, even if it means you might lose your studio, just goes to show what a truly incredible woman you are, Elena Murphy.” He paused. “You still haven’t told me why Chad’s suing you.”

  Elena grimaced. “Because of the incident.”

  “The incident,” Liam repeated, curiosity stirring once more. What could have possibly spurred her ex to sue her?

  “Like I said, dating Chad was like having an overgrown child around,” Elena said, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. “He was always leaving his crap all over the place. In my apartment. In the studio. Once I even tripped over his skateboard and nearly fell down the stairs. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t half as funny as it is in the movies.”

  Jesus Christ. She’d almost fallen down the stairs because that careless prick couldn’t pick up his shit? White-hot anger flared in his gut, and he pressed his lips flat, afraid she’d stop talking if he interrupted.

  “One day, I was painting my toenails and I accidentally spilled nail polish on the coffee table. Shocker, right?” She gave a self-deprecating smile that nearly broke his damn heart and his vow of silence. If only she could see what he saw. She was smart, talented, and independent. Any man would be lucky to have her, and if that fucker Chad hadn’t appreciated her, it was his loss. “Anyway, when I went to pick up the bottle, a teeny tiny drop—I swear it was the size of a pencil point—got on one of Chad’s comic books and he freaked the fuck out.”

  “Wait a minute,” Liam said, snapping his jaw shut as the full impact of her words hit him. “Are you telling me all of this is about a bloody comic book?”

  Elena nodded.

  She was serious. “It must have been priceless. What, was it the original Superman or something?”

  “No,” Elena said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t even remember the title, but Chad was sure it was going to be a collector’s item someday.”

  Liam snorted. He’d been gobsmacked at court more than once, but he was hard-pressed to recall the last time he’d heard such an outrageous story. “What a wanker.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “I know he’s a fool for letting you go.”

  A slow flush spread over Elena’s skin, starting just above her breasts and climbing up her neck to stain her cheeks. It was then Liam realized that this woman, so full of passion and life it positively radiated from her, wasn’t used to receiving the kind of compliments she so clearly deserved. The knowledge didn’t sit well and reaffirmed his opinion of Chad and every other bloody fool she’d ever dated.

  “What about you?” Elena turned to him, her expressive face open, if not a bit wary. “Why are you single really?”

  Liam hesitated. “My royal duties keep me busy. My social life is rather lacking, truth be told.”

  Elena arched a brow, skepticism lining her eyes. “You’re handsome, charming, and a crown prince to boot.”

  She thought he was charming? That was new information. He grinned at the admission, filing it away for later as she continued.

  “And under that carefully crafted royal veneer,” she went on, “you have a heart of gold.”

  “Is that what you think?” The assessment surprised him. No one had ever described him as having a heart of gold. Stone, yes. Gold, no.

  “It’s what I know.” She grinned and poked him in the chest playfully. “You might have the rest of the world fooled, but I’ve got your number, William Stanley. You care deeply, and not just about your own people. You believe in helping others, even when there’s nothing in it for you. And you have a strong sense of loyalty, as evidenced by the fact that you’re still here.”

  “I fear you see only the best in me.” If she knew their arrangement was intended to stave off an unwanted engagement, she might feel differently.

  “Even if that were true,” she said, laughing, “you’re the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Surely there are plenty of women who’d love to date you.”

  The problem was, they didn’t give a damn about him. What they wanted was a crown and all the titles and privileges that came with it. “Those women don’t interest me,” he said, holding her gaze meaningfully. It was the truth. He wanted nothing to do with the list of crown-approved duchesses his mother was cultivating. There was only one woman he wanted…and the Royal Marriages Act made a future with her impossible.

  Mad Eyes Murphy: American Psycho?

  Looks like there may be trouble in paradise for our favorite royal ship and we have to admit, we aren’t surprised. Turns out Mad Eyes Murphy has a dark side. We know, we know. It’s not exactly news, but where there’s a lawsuit there’s a story, and we want all the deets!

  It’s not every day an aspiring princess gets knocked off her pedestal in such spectacular fashion and we’re here for it. To hear Mad Eyes’ ex tell it, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. (Speaking of MEM’s ex, are we the only ones who think she traded waaaay up?) And did you all see that savage picture of MEM riding the hot mess express (link below)? Even we felt bad for her because once that sh*t’s on the internet, it’s FOREVER!

  Poor Prince William.

  Sources close to HRH say he was completely blindsided by news of MEM’s lawsuit and the accusations she’s completely unhinged. Granted, we’re not sure we buy that last part, because, come on, we’ve got photographic evidence to the contrary, but what do we know? Maybe HRH has a fetish for crazypants.

  Either way, I guess it’s true what they say. You can never really know someone…unless you hire a top-notch private investigator, which we highly recommend. (Pro Tip: it’s not stalking if you hire a professional!)

  So, what do you think? Is Willena headed for splitsville or will MEM lure HRH over to the dark side? I don’t know about you, lovely readers, but we’re just hoping HRH gets out alive!

  Chapter Ten

  Lena smiled and greeted the stream of bright-eyed students flowing through the front door of the studio. She loved working with elementary school kids. Their energy was contagious, and they wore their enthusiasm with pride, letting it pour out of them as they laughed and played, filling nearly every stool in the studio.

  She did a quick time check, confirming the class wasn’t due to start for another five minutes. If Liam didn’t show up soon, she’d have to start without him.

  It’s not a big deal.

  She didn’t actually need Liam to teach the class. In fact, she doubted he’d be much help when it came to coaching the kids on technique, but she’d thought it would be good for the world to see them doing something low-key for once, and Fin had promised to leak a few photos, which would be good exposure for the studio. The fact that the kids would get a kick out of meeting a real life royal was just icing on the cake.

  Lena worried her bottom lip. Fin had warned her the prince had a busy day and they might be cutting it close, but she’d hoped he would be able to make it.

  “Ready to get started?” Nia asked, scooting past with an armload of aprons.

  “Go ahead and hand those out,” Lena said, sneaking one last look at the clock, “but let’s wait just a few more minutes in case we’ve got stragglers.”

  “Right,” Nia said, wiggling her brows suggestively. “Stragglers.”

  Ignoring her, Lena pulled her phone from her pocket, debating whether she should message Liam.r />
  No. She wasn’t going to text him. It wasn’t like she’d told anyone he was coming, because God forbid the press got wind of it. The place would be mobbed.

  She glanced around. Well, more mobbed than it already was, anyway.

  The turnout was surprisingly good, despite Chad’s character assassination. Maybe it was proof that not everyone believed what they read in the tabloids. Then again, turnout was always good for the East Village Community Center workshops. Lena had partnered with them shortly after opening her doors and offered free classes to the children enrolled in the after-school enrichment program. Her mission had always been to make art accessible to the entire neighborhood, whether they could afford to pay for lessons or not, and the partnership made it all possible.

  She surveyed the room, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of all the smiling faces. It didn’t matter if Liam showed, they’d make the best of it and have a great afternoon painting. If she was lucky, she could convince Nia to make a donut run after the class. You know, since she was never showing her face at Sweet Celebrations again.

  Just as she turned to grab her own apron, the bell over the door jingled, and she looked up to see Liam standing there in a three-piece suit, a look of terror in his eyes as he took in all the children.

  Any other day the sight of him standing there like Adonis in a perfectly tailored suit might’ve stolen her breath, but the look on his face was too much, and it was all she could do not to double over laughing.

  “It’s about time,” she called, grabbing an apron and slipping it on over her head. She tied it behind her back and stepped out onto the floor, weaving between the tables as she made her way to Liam.

  “What’s going on?” Liam whispered, as if he didn’t want anyone to know just how clueless he was in that moment. It was totally unnecessary. The studio was so loud the kids probably wouldn’t have heard anything short of a shout.

  “Didn’t Fin tell you?” she asked, dropping her gaze to his designer suit. “You’re going to help me teach an art class today.”