The Royals: Alexander and Clara: Volume One (The Royals Saga)

by Geneva Lee

  Tori waved at me from her cubicle, surprising me a little. The vivacious redhead actually had a life—one she'd been pressuring me to be a part of—and she had never once beaten me into work. I paused at her desk, bracing myself for the usual entreaties to go out for dinner or to grab a drink. "You're here early."

  I forced a smile onto my lips. I liked Tori, someday we might even be friends. Right now all I could think of was work. Fun wasn't in my vocabulary. I'd tried to go out to dinner with Belle and a few friends a couple of times over the course of the summer, only to be acutely reminded of Alexander's absence. Now I knew better.

  Tori grimaced and tugged her jacket together to hide a glittery halter top.

  Smudged eyeliner and questionable work attire? "Rough morning?" I asked.

  Or rough night? I added silently.

  She leaned forward and lowered her voice even though we were the only ones in the office this early. "Can you tell that I haven't slept? Four in the morning is not the time to remember you forgot to get the last numbers run for the Blue campaign, especially if you're at Brimstone."

  I laughed weakly, hoping I appeared sympathetic. Inside I reeled over her innocuous confession, feelings and thoughts swarming my brain too quickly to process. I'd been to that club before, and the flash of jealousy that ripped through me at its mention startled me. Had he been there last night, too? Had she been close to him without even knowing it? It wasn't only that. Just the term brimstone meant so much more to me than Tori could possibly know. I hadn't had to face it before now. Brimstone wasn't exactly a word used in everyday conversation. That was one of the reasons I'd chosen it as my safe word. Brimstone was supposed to be the word that protected me when Alexander pushed things too far—when he demanded more than I could give him.

  I'd only used it once, and I'd never use it again.

  Tori coughed politely and I shook my head, trying to free myself from the painful memories. "Sorry," I murmured. "I have to finish up a few things before Isaac arrives, too. My head's in two places at once."

  "I completely understand," she sympathized. "We should get lunch when we wrap this up."

  I hesitated, immediately searching for an excuse. "This week is terrible for me. I have a hundred reports to follow up on with Isaac's publicity team."

  Tori dismissed my excuse with a shrug. "Maybe some other time."

  "Absolutely," I said. Maybe was the only commitment I could give people these days. Glancing at the office clock, I realized my conversation with Tori had effectively wasted five precious minutes.

  Slinging my bag into my desk drawer, I pulled out my Blue Foundation campaign file to prep for today's meeting.

  "You ready?" Bennett asked. His usually friendly smile had grown tired.

  I paused and studied my boss. The circles under his eyes were darker and his curly brown hair seriously needed a comb. "How about you?"

  "I look that bad, huh?" He dropped into the chair next to mine and tugged on his tie. "Why do kids get summer holiday when their parents have to work?"

  "It's cruel," I agreed. Bennett was raising twin six-year-old girls, which would have been difficult even if his wife hadn't died unexpectedly last year. I couldn't imagine how overwhelmed he felt, although he did his best not to show it. "Why don't you let me watch them Friday night for a few hours?"

  "I could never ask you to stop working!" Bennett widened his eyes in mock-horror.

  "The Blue Foundation campaign is winding down," I said casually, ignoring his obvious sarcasm. I didn't add that until our next big project came along I was desperate to fill my time with anything that would distract me from Alexander's absence from my life.

  "Maybe you're right." Bennett rubbed his temples, sighing loudly. "Would it be sad if you watched them while I slept?"

  I studied Bennett's haggard appearance for a moment before I raised an eyebrow. "I think I have to insist that you sleep."

  "You're a lifesaver, Clara.” He paused, rummaging through the scattered notes in his bag. “Someone called here asking about you. I thought I wrote down his phone number.”

  The color in the room drained away. There was only one person that would call and ask about me. Only one person who wouldn’t contact me directly. One person who hadn’t contacted me directly for months.

  “Hey, you aren’t interviewing for another job, are you?” Bennett asked, studying my stricken face.

  I shook my head and forced myself to answer. “Nope.”

  “Good, because you look a little panicked.” Realization dawned on him, lighting across his face. “I don’t think it was him, Clara.”

  I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or feel worse. Actually, I wasn’t feeling much of anything. I pushed away the questions I wanted to ask Bennett. Did he ask for me by name? What did his voice sound like? Had he really left a number? Because Alexander wasn’t the type to call. “It was probably just a reporter.”

  But I couldn’t quite shake my uneasiness.

  “Do you want some tea before we head in?" he asked, standing to leave.

  "Coffee for me, please. I'm almost done reviewing the report." I motioned to the open file on my computer screen. I’d spent every waking moment preparing for today. I decided that I wasn’t going to be derailed now.

  "Sometimes I forget you're American, and then you ask for coffee," Bennett teased.

  I wagged a finger at him, turning back to my work. "I am not the only person in this office who drinks coffee, and I'm not American."

  "You're more American than you'll admit, but perhaps if I ply you with enough tea and biscuits, you'll embrace your Brit."

  "Not bloody likely," I said in my worst Cockney accent.

  Bennett's laughter faded away as he walked toward the break room. It was good to see him lighten up. He might joke about me working too hard, but I couldn't help being worried about his stress level. He was all his girls had left.

  Thankfully everything looked in order for the Blue Foundation presentation. With any luck, Bennett would be back with my coffee in time for a quick swig before we needed to head downstairs to the conference room. I turned on my phone to check the time and saw a missed call from my mother.

  They're attacking on all sides.

  Madeline Bishop didn't know how to take a hint. I had been avoiding her calls for weeks. The truth was that I couldn't stomach her particular brand of bluntness. As far as she was concerned, Alexander and I were still together. Once she knew we had split up, she’d have no problem identifying exactly where things had gone wrong for us and how I could fix it. If curiosity killed the cat, proactiveness brought it back after a couple of rounds of CPR. Situations could be fixed, according to my mother. I didn't have the heart to tell her there was no fixing us.

  I'd told Alexander that I wouldn't be his secret, but here I was still guarding the truth about our relationship. Maybe I'd never been as strong as I thought I was—as he thought I was.

  Bennett appeared back at my desk and handed me a steaming mug. "Are you ready to wow?"

  I sipped my coffee. Pretending to be okay was becoming second nature, pretending I had my shit together was another thing entirely. I could be honest with him. Instead, I plastered a smile on my face. "Lead the way, boss."

  I couldn't help but admire our client's transformation. In the few months since I'd met the famous actor, he'd gone from troubled movie star to a thoughtful leader, taking on more and more responsibility with the campaign. I had no doubt that his blonde publicist, Sophia King, who hovered near him at all times, had a lot to do with it. There had been speculation about Isaac Blue's relationship with her, but today when I caught him drop his hand protectively on the small of her back as we adjourned the meeting, my suspicions were confirmed. He removed it too quickly for anyone else to see, but her eyes flashed to him, smoldering with an intensity shared only between lovers.

  Pressure tightened in my chest, pain squeezing my heart. I'd never share that look with anyone again. I longed for Alexander's hand to
touch me protectively once more. Sophia's gaze shifted to meet mine, and I turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

  "Thank you for all your work," Isaac said, extending his hand to Bennett. "The Blue Foundation is off to a solid start thanks to Peters & Clarkwell."

  Bennett took his hand but shook his head. "This is who you need to be thanking."

  Despite all the work I'd put in on the campaign, I cringed at being given credit. I wanted to move upward in the company, but I also wanted to do so after the tabloid interest in my personal life had finally faded from recent memory. Isaac turned to thank me, but stopped when he caught sight of me. With his cropped brown hair, dimpled cheeks, and ripped physique, most women would kill to have his attention. I wasn't most women. Isaac was sexy as hell, but he wasn't Alexander.

  The star, perhaps due to years of acting, recovered quickly and offered his hand. "Thank you, Miss...?"

  "Bishop," I said, playing along. There was no doubt he'd recognized me. Anonymity wasn't one of the perks of being on the cover of People magazine. We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and even with the awkward introduction, I couldn't help but be charmed by Blue.

  Sofia lingered at the door, shooing her client and lover out with the rest of the group. Once they were out of the conference room, her hand fell across the door frame, blocking me from leaving.

  "Can I help you with something?" I asked.

  "It's interesting," she said. "You sound like an American, but you act like you're British. You're too fucking polite, Clara."

  At least she wasn't going to play games. "I can be rude. Maybe even as rude as you."

  She laughed at this, crossing her thin arms elegantly over her fitted red sheath. "I doubt it. I don't mean to offend you, but I saw you staring."

  "Isaac has that effect on women," I said lightly.

  "He does. But let's not pretend I'm talking about him. I imagine that you understand the desire for discretion and privacy in a relationship better than most." Sophia shifted so that she was no longer blocking the door, but neither of us moved to leave.

  "I suppose that I do," I admitted. "I won't say anything."

  "It's not a secret, but we aren't advertising it either," she confessed. "My relationship with Isaac isn't why I stopped you. I think you could use someone in your corner, Clara."

  She drew an ivory business card out of her Birkin bag and handed it to me.

  "What do you do exactly?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  "I turn things around."

  I smirked at this. "I think it's a little late for that now."

  Sophia glanced toward the hall Isaac had disappeared down. When she glanced back at me, her eyes blazed as she shook her head. "It's never too late."

  Her words echoed in my head as I stowed the card in my desk drawer. Clearly, Sophia King was gifted at her job, but I wasn't looking for someone to fix things for me. That was impossible. I’d spent the last few months clawing my way out of despair. It had been a hard won battle, and I was still fighting it. The only thing I could do was move on as best as I could. Taking a deep breath, I walked slowly over to Tori's desk and waited for her to get off the phone.

  "How about next week?" I asked as soon as she was free—before I could talk myself out of it. "I've been buried in work all summer. It's time I unearth myself."

  "Excellent!" Tori clapped her hands together. "I'm holding you to it."

  "You better," I said as a genuine smile crept onto my lips.

  Small steps.

  Dropping my bag on the granite countertop, I rifled through the day's mail, suppressing a surge of disappointment when all I discovered was bills and sales flyers. So much for small steps, a small voice taunted from inside my own head.

  Belle entered the room clad in a turquoise maxi dress that flowed over her elegant figure. She fanned herself as she brushed a few sticky strands of blond hair off the back of her neck. Her aunt let us our flat, and while I loved the pre-war architecture and monthly rent, it lacked some modern amenities like air conditioning. "Let's take a summer holiday," she suggested, "Majorca or Seychelles?"

  "I think it's likely to be even hotter there, and I have a job."

  "Beach hot is different." Belle sighed and grabbed an ice cube from the freezer. "It's miserable to be hot in a city with all the people. Can't you get off for a couple of days or a long weekend?"

  "Is this all?" I held up the stack of mail, ignoring her question.

  "As far as I know." She studied my face for a minute. "How was your meeting?"

  "Fantastic," I said, hoping she wouldn’t ask for details. I still wasn't sure how to respond to Sophia King's offer.

  "You worked hard on that campaign. We should celebrate," she suggested. "Grab a pint."

  "I need to get in a run." Exercise was my fallback excuse when I didn't have work to occupy me.

  "Bollocks," Belle said. "You're avoiding me."

  "I'm not avoiding you." I sighed, searching for a way to explain without getting into the painful subject of Alexander. "I just don't feel like going out."

  "You never feel like going out," she accused. "I love you, darling, but you can't hide from life forever. When are you going to move on?"

  "I'm going on a run. Don't read so much into it." I grabbed my purse and flew past her before she could press me further.

  Belle didn't come out of her room when I emerged fifteen minutes later ready to run. I tugged my ponytail into submission and headed out of the flat. Despite the evening's mugginess, the air felt good on my sweaty skin as I quickened my pace. Running cleared my head to the point of blankness, which was almost as good as being completely occupied with work.

  I jogged to a stop at the corner, waiting for the light to change. A sleek black Rolls across the street made my heart jump. Sucking in a deep breath, I stepped closer, realizing with disappointment that it wasn't Alexander's.

  Get a grip, my inner critic chastised.

  This time I needed to listen to her. I took off at a full run, arms pumping, blood pounding through me, as I forced myself to speed up until I forgot everything. I was running away from my problems. I knew that. But what other choice did I have when I had no one left to run to?

  The thought vanished from my head as the physical demands of my pace took precedence over thought. Half an hour later my head was clear as I bounded up the front steps of my flat. I was completely blissed out from running. If only the feeling could last forever.

  "Clara!" Aunt Jane called from her doorway.

  "Hi Jane," I panted.

  "Come in and have some water. You look like you just ran a marathon."

  I felt like I had, too, but I shook my head despite my dry throat. "I'm gross. I should shower, but thank you."

  "Nonsense." Jane glided into the hallway and pointed to her flat. "Inside now."

  There was no arguing with Jane when she got like this, so I trudged inside. Belle's Aunt Jane looked more like a pixie than someone her age had a right to, complete with spiky gray hair and a slight figure. What she lacked in size, she made up for in spirit. I held my hands up in surrender and followed her inside.

  I gulped the water she gave me gratefully.

  "Thanks," I said when I was done.

  "You're doing a little more than working out," Jane noted. "You look like a girl who's running away from something."

  I shrugged, but my eyes avoided hers. I didn't want to see myself reflected in Jane's penetrating gaze. "I'm just moving on."

  "Why?"

  Whatever I’d expected her to say, I hadn't expected her to question me on this point. It wasn't typical post-breakup advice. I should know. I'd heard it all. I fumbled around looking for a response, but in the end, all I could do was stare blankly at her.

  "You're in love with him, Clara," Jane said, reaching out to take my hand. She patted it. "It's obvious, my dear. So why aren't you with him, then?"

  I closed my eyes, gathering my strength before I answered, "Sometimes love isn't eno
ugh."

  "Is anything?" Jane scoffed. "Clara, there is a season to all relationships. Some loves are meant to last a lifetime and others are not."

  "I know," I whispered.

  "Is your season with Alexander over?" she pressed.

  I turned away from her to stare out the window. The Rolls was still parked at the corner, and my heart leapt again. I guess that answered her question. "I still love him," I admitted. "But staying together isn't possible. Our season is over."

  "Be sure of that. Forcing love to end, forcing the season to change, doesn't mean it goes away. Not when the end is false. When you destroy a relationship, it only leads to regret," she advised. "Regret poisons lives, and there is no greater regret than abandoned love."

  I guessed from the edge of her voice that she had some personal experience with this type of regret. I didn't ask her to share it with me.

  I wasn't as old as Aunt Jane, but I'd learned a few hard lessons regarding love already. It was comforting to believe that time healed all wounds, but that was a lie. Time could never fully erase the anguish of a broken heart. It was always there, plucking at you no matter how deep down you buried the past.

  "I'm afraid I don't have any choice," I told her, "and he doesn't want me anyway."

  It stung to admit this aloud. I hadn't told anyone—not even Belle—that I hadn't heard a word from Alexander in over eight weeks. He'd reached out only once since I left him in Notting Hill—then nothing. Even if Jane were right, it wouldn't matter. Alexander had moved on with his life.

  "How do you know that?"

  "I just know."