by Geneva Lee
“Understood.” Bennett swiveled to face his office window. His view was blocked by the reflective glass of the neighboring Gherkin building, but he stared, unblinking, into the glaring sunlight bouncing back at him.
My heart churned, full of conflicting emotions, but I managed to keep it together. My mother had helpfully passed along a magazine article that talked about the top twenty-five stressful life events last week. I stopped counting the number that currently applied to me when I hit ten. No doubt the actual number was much higher. All the tension and change had made me nearly as weepy as Tori, but I refused to cry when Bennett spun around and asked me how my day was. I wouldn’t cry. Not until my final day in the office, at least.
Instead I launched into the strategies I’d managed to write up over the weekend. The only perk of Alexander’s increasing familial responsibilities was that I had a bit more time to devote to projects outside of work. An hour later, I’d managed to get Bennett’s half-hearted approval on everything I’d pitched to him.
“What am I going to do without you?” he asked when I’d finished rattling off the latest specs for a public health campaign we were putting together with the BBC.
I wagged a finger at him. “Don’t start!”
“You don’t really want to marry that guy, do you?” Bennett said.
“Speaking of marriage,” I said pointedly, “when are you making an honest woman out of Tori?”
“Hey, I’ve asked.” He threw up his hands defensively, laugh lines crinkling around his warm brown eyes. “She said the first night she gets a full eight hours of sleep, she’s dragging me to the nearest church.”
“In my defense,” Tori interrupted from the doorway, “I look like a zombie. All I want is one decent, quick photo of my wedding day where I don’t look like I’m ready to eat someone’s brains.”
I laughed along with them, excusing myself so that I could get back to work. The number of projects I needed to wrap up before I left was staggering. An hour later, I’d sorted through the files I’d kept at my desk and dropped them off to the project managers that would be taking over the various campaigns. I’d just seen the last stack safely delivered when my mobile rang. Lola’s face blinked on the screen, and I dashed back to the safety of my cubicle before accepting the call. Enough of my day-to-day life was aired across tabloid covers, the last thing I wanted was for my parents’ marital difficulties to be thrown into the mix. It was silly that anyone cared about what I bought at Tesco when I grabbed groceries, but it was unthinkable to invite people to speculate on the affairs of my family.
“Hey Lola,” I greeted her breathlessly.
“Were you running?” she asked. The hint of confusion coloring her tone quickly shifted to annoyance. “And why are you whispering?”
“I’m at work,” I reminded her, keeping my voice soft. I loved my kid sister, but her unapologetic bluntness meant she wasn’t always terribly perceptive.
“I thought you worked in an office, not a library.”
I shook my head, marveling at the strange mix of British and American that comprised my sister. She’d been young enough when we’d moved to the U.K. that she’d picked up a subtle accent, but her forwardness was all-American. I, on the other hand, spoke like an American and chose my words carefully like a Brit—most of the time.
“I figured it would be nice to keep a little of my personal life private.” My eyes rolled involuntarily, glad that she couldn’t see me through the phone. “I’d like to keep our family issues out of the tabloids.”
I had no reason to suspect anyone at Peters & Clarkwell had sold me out, but the paparazzi’s interest in me had grown into a frenzy since my engagement to Alexander. The press had run stories on everything from analyzing my apparent preference for free-range eggs to interviews with people who’d attended classes with me at university.
“Mom loves being in tabloids,” Lola said.
Normally I’d say she had a point, but my mother’s stubborn refusal to admit Dad was cheating suggested this was a line in the sand. A juicy story like my father’s affair would be worth a pretty penny—and it might destroy my mother. Of course, Lola didn’t admit that she was enjoying the cover time she’d been receiving herself. Our shared genetics meant that she looked like a younger, slimmer version of me—that dressed better. Much better. As such, she’d quickly become a fashion trendsetter, even starting a craze for American handbag designer Kate Spade across the pond. The gossip rags had begun a Lola watch, breaking down her wardrobe choices and linking her to a dozen of the world’s most eligible bachelors. As far as I was concerned, it was too much, but I’d rather she distract them from what was happening behind closed doors. Plus, Lola didn’t seem to mind.
“Regardless,” she continued, “she’s asked me to go dress and hat shopping for a certain blessed event. Please tell me your last day at that job is coming up. She’s insisting we go together.”
“No date yet. Soon,” I lied. “Take her to buy a hat for the engagement party. That’s next weekend.”
“She’s had that hat picked out for months,” Lola said emphatically. “Word to the wise, she’s going to ask you at our family meeting next week.”
“Of course, she is.” I sighed and checked the clock. “I better run.”
“You probably should run if you keep Mom waiting any longer,” Lola warned and quickly hung up.
I pushed thoughts of dates and hat shopping into the back of my mind. Yet another reason I would miss my job was that it provided distraction from the topic of my wedding. With everything so complicated at the moment, the last thing I needed to add to my plate was more wedding preparation. Not while Alexander was still keeping secrets from me. Not while his father refused to give his blessing. And certainly not with Daniel out there. A thick lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed against the sudden swell of fear. Right now burying myself in my work meant not having to face that fact. A few spreadsheets and a PowerPoint later, I was surprised to glance up and realize it was nearly my lunch hour. My stomach growled, accustomed to the carefully timed schedule I kept regarding meals. But I had no appetite. Without Tori around to distract me from the security detail that would follow me as soon as I left the office, I didn’t feel like grabbing lunch. My phone buzzed insistently, and I grabbed it to silence my reminder-to-eat alarm, surprised to discover it was actually a call from Edward.
“Clara Bishop’s desk,” I said with mock formality.
“Is the tart in?” Edward asked in a voice dripping with British dryness.
My mouth twisted bemusedly at his saucy pet name as I typed out a final note and closed my file. Edward, Alexander’s younger brother, was the only living member of the Royal family I could stand. “I’m afraid she’s busy.”
“Too bad. I was calling to inform her that her presence is demanded at a mandatory girls’ night this weekend.”
I couldn’t stop myself from snorting at this. Since he’d officially come out of the closet, he’d fully embraced his sexuality. It only made me love him more. “Girls’ night, huh?”
“Don’t bother telling me I don’t have the necessary equipment, I have the necessary attitude,” he said, adding, “and the emergency to boot.”
“Please tell me there’s not trouble in paradise for you, too.”
“Absolutely not. I’ve been reformed,” he assured me cheekily. “I just want some time with my two favorite brides-to-be. Belle’s already in, and if Alexander cannot bear to be parted from you or your vagina for the evening, we can do it at your place.”
“You’re shameless.”
“You love me.”
I couldn’t disagree with him there. “I’ll have to…”
The words fell off my tongue as Alexander seized the chair next to mine. He lounged back, smirking wickedly, as I struggled to regain my composure.
“Sorry…I’m distracted. I’ll have to call you back,” I finally managed.
“Tell him I said hello,” Edward said knowingly.
I took a steadying breath as I hung up and shoved the phone into my purse.
“What? You couldn’t just send a note?” I bit out, allowing the turmoil I’d felt all morning to spill over.
“We need to talk.” His voice was low, but firm. Domineering. Powerful. A dizzying sensation washed over me as I fought against the effect he had on me.
I knew that domineering tone. I was being commanded, and while I couldn’t deny I’d come to crave that in his bed, I wasn’t about to put up with it now. “Now you want to talk? Did something happen that you couldn’t coordinate behind my back?”
“Poppet.”
“I need to get to lunch.”
And I needed to avoid a screaming match in the office.
“That’s why I’m here.” Alexander moved closer, brushing a finger along my arm. My reaction was instantaneous. A ripple of longing shivered from the point of contact and up my neck. My body curved, lured toward him with the same instinctual magnetism that had drawn us together since the moment we’d first met.
But I refused to roll over that easily. “I had a lunch date, remember?”
“And it was cancelled,” he said, shrugging his broad shoulders in a far too innocent gesture.
“Un-fucking-believable.” Snatching my purse up, I beelined for the lift, but before I could reach it, he was at my side. His arm slipped through mine, claiming me, as we waited for the lift.
“Do you have this whole place bugged?” I hissed, unable to contain myself and hoping none of my co-workers would hear.
Alexander was more patient, exhibiting an almost supernatural control that drove me crazy. When the lift doors slid open, he released his hold and gestured for me to enter. My simmering annoyance had reached full-blown fuming as he calmly pressed the down button. “I am made aware if your schedule changes.”
“Do you even hear how crazy that sounds?” I exploded.
“It’s a safety precaution. Your life might be in danger.” The evenness of his voice only made me angrier.
“Might? It might be? You also might be driving me crazy!” I’d gone along with the initial security precautions following Daniel’s attack, because I was as desperate to feel safe as he was to protect me. Maybe I was approaching this the wrong way though. Alexander could be reasonable. I just needed to be logical. “You weren’t honest with me. I accepted the security so that you would feel better. I thought we’d both be able to relax soon, but instead I find out that there’s actually been a real threat the whole time. How would you feel if every moment of your life was watched, recorded, and reported on without you even knowing why?”
But he only cocked an eyebrow. “Every moment of my life has been exactly that.”
“Right.” I sank against the cool metal wall of the lift for support. Of course it had been. It still was. This was entirely normal to him, which meant the expectation was that it would be normal for me as well. I didn’t move when we reached the ground floor.
Alexander’s hand closed gently over my upper arm, urging me into the lobby. This time he didn’t try to loop arms, instead he guided me in silence until we were on the sidewalk. The bustle of London foot traffic afforded more privacy than the quiet office building, but even with the anonymity, I couldn’t find words.
“I should have been more honest with you,” he admitted. “We can discuss that over lunch, but right now I need to see you eat something.”
My purse strap slipped and I shouldered it with determination before pointing to a bistro a few buildings down. I’d been there before and knew it was frequented by businessmen too preoccupied with their own deals and conversations to care about us. Alexander caught my hand as we crossed the street, purposefully placing himself on the side of oncoming traffic. But the street was relatively quiet and a few moments later, he held open the brass door to the restaurant. The low hum of a dozen conversations filled the room accompanied by soft music. The bistro itself sat in the shadow of several of the larger financial buildings, dimming the room considerably for the lunch hour.
“Two,” Alexander informed the hostess, who was in the process of stacking menus. She glanced up and her mouth fell open.
“Of course,” she chirped, her fingers trembling as she checked the seating chart.
Alexander dipped down until he was eye level with her. “Somewhere…private.”
My legs buckled, causing me to sway slightly in my heels. His grip on my hand tightened, pressing my sizable ruby engagement ring into my flesh. The brief smarting pain mixed with the frustration I felt, sending a jolt of unexpected arousal traveling through me.
Hardly anyone noticed as we followed the girl toward the back of the restaurant to a fairly private table tucked into a recessed nook, but awareness prickled through me. Were we being watched right now? Followed by a special security team? Were any of our private moments private at all?
“Will this do?” The young hostess wrung her hands nervously as Alexander pulled out a chair for me.
“This will be fine,” he said in a gracious tone, tilting his head slightly. Her eyes darted from me to him and then she did a small curtsy and scampered away.
Possessiveness flared inside of me, I hadn’t mistaken the lust in her eyes. I couldn’t exactly blame her for that. Not only was he the Prince of England, but he exuded a raw sensuality that most women couldn’t ignore. But the reaction had been uncontrollable and unexpected. Jealousy wasn’t really my thing, except when it came to the toxic Pepper Lockwood. Gripping the sides of my chair, I willed my pulse to calm. I was being paranoid. Alexander had been lying to me again, and my body had responded possessively to a perceived threat. That was all.
But that didn’t make it okay.
“You’re quiet.” There was no accusation in his voice, but there was an undercurrent of something else hidden amongst his words. Pain.
I lifted my gaze slowly to meet his, preparing myself for the momentary electricity I always felt when I saw him. It rocked through me, but this time I focused that scorching desire into fuel for my anger. Betrayal and desire were a volatile combination, and it took what little self-control I had to keep my voice low enough that only he could hear me. “I feel like I’ve been living a lie.”
“I should have told you about Daniel,” he repeated. “But there was never a good time. I expected to have a lead on him much more quickly.”
“That’s no reason to keep the truth from me!”
“I assumed it would be resolved weeks ago. Months ago. The longer it took, the harder it became to bring up.”
I shook my head, dismissing the lame excuse. “That probably should have been a clue that what you were doing was wrong.”
“Poppet.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle, stopping at my ring finger as though to gently remind me that I’d promised myself to him.
“Don’t think that if you are all sexy and sweet, I’ll forget what you did.”
“You think I’m sexy?” The cocky grin that suited him so well twisted over his lips, making it impossible not to want to kiss him.
“Once again, you’re missing the point, X.”
“We came here to talk, and we will, but I also came to tell you I have to go out of town.” His blue eyes stayed trained on me as he dropped the bit of news.
I swallowed and nodded. “For how long?”
“My father has asked me to attend a jubilee dinner. I’d like you to come with me.”
“I can’t.” The refusal was out of my mouth before I could think about it. A time was coming when my presence would be expected, but for now, I wanted to relish the last bit of freedom I had left.
Alexander stiffened, surprised by my refusal.
“I have plans,” I continued in a rush. “And this is my last week at work.”
“So this has nothing to do with our fight earlier?”
“No.” I paused. “And yes. Maybe some time apart will give us some perspective.”
“I don’t like time apart,” he growled.
“I can’t go,” I repeated, but this time the refusal came out weakly.
“Fine, but I want to make one thing perfectly clear.” Alexander grabbed the arm of my chair and jerked it closer to him. The scrape of its feet on the wooden floor vibrated through my body, dialing up my shredded nerves and making me all the more aware of him. Heat radiated from him, drawing me in even as I tried to stay away. He might have lied to me, but the safety I always found in his arms was a surer truth than any I’d ever known. It was his own screwed up way of loving me. That made it even harder to maintain the space between us, especially when it was his solace I longed for.
His shoulders slanted and he inclined his head until the warmth of his breath skimmed across my neck. I breathed in his scent—spice and heat, earth and fire—my eyes shutting as his hand closed over my knee and snaked under my skirt. His fingers drifted up teasingly as he traced a path across the sensitive flesh of my thigh.
“What I do is for your protection, Poppet. Not only from anyone who might wish to harm you, but also from yourself.” With his free hand, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and then tipped my chin up. My eyelids fluttered open expectantly, knowing exactly what he wanted from me—what he demanded. Our faces were a fraction of an inch apart, close enough to kiss. “Fear is your enemy. It controls you when you let it, and then you try too hard to take control back.”