by T. K. Leigh
“It’s not like I walked out with nothing on at all.”
“I know. I just…”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know…” I shake my head, struggling to find the words to explain what’s going through my mind, to make Anderson understand why I’m jittery around him. Why these past twenty-four hours have been a perpetual see-saw. How one minute, I don’t want to do anything that would tarnish Hunter’s memory. Then the next, I’m convinced Hunter would want me to move on, to be happy, to take a risk. And that maybe I should take a risk on Anderson. But didn’t I do that? Look how that worked out.
“Okay. That’s it.”
A hand on my bicep forces me around. I gasp, the sudden movement taking me by surprise. Thankfully, Anderson is now fully clothed in a pair of khakis and a white linen shirt, the rolled-up sleeves revealing his corded forearms.
“What do you mean? I—”
“This.” He gestures between our two bodies. “It’s…stupid.”
I scrunch my brow, my heart pounding in my chest at the magnitude with which he stares at me, the muscles in his face strained, the vein in his neck throbbing.
“What is?”
He throws up his hands. “This tension. This awkwardness. It’s been driving me crazy all bloody day. So we’re leaving.”
My eyes widen. “But I wanted to stay here. I’m not—”
“We’re still staying here. But we’re going out. We’re going to walk to a little Mexican place a few blocks away, and the first thing we’ll do is take a shot of tequila so you’ll stop feeling so goddamn on edge around me. I fucking hate it. You’re supposed to be on this amazing journey, having the time of your life. So if I’m interfering with that—”
“I’m glad we ran into each other,” I assure him, the words leaving my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. It’s true, though. Despite yesterday’s setback, I can’t imagine doing this trip without him.
His lips curve into a sweet smile, his expression and voice softening. “And there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now than with you. But we need to do something to cut through the obvious unease. And in my experience, a shot of tequila is the best medicine for awkward tension.” He winks.
“So is a glass of wine.”
“True. But I think the best thing we can do is get out of this room, not barricade ourselves inside.” He extends his hand toward me. “So, are you in?”
I expel a breath. Getting drunk on tequila and beer is the last thing I need, considering I’ll be sharing a room with Anderson tonight. But he’s right. Today has been ridiculous. We need to put last night and today behind us. And there’s no better way to forget than several shots of tequila.
Linking my fingers with his, I revel in his warmth and familiarity. “I’m in.”
Chapter Twenty
Anderson
“You want to play what?” Nora asks as we sit across from each other in a booth hidden in the corner of a dark bar a few blocks from our motel.
We’d gone out for Mexican food and, as I’d hoped, the tequila and beer relaxed us both, Nora finally letting her hair down again. But I still wasn’t ready to go back to the room. Not yet. Instead, I dragged her to a bar where the music is loud and the drinks strong. The perfect spot for two people to get reacquainted after a setback.
“Truth or Drink.”
“I’m not familiar,” she says with a slight slur as she takes a pull from her beer bottle.
“You’re familiar with Truth or Dare, though, aren’t you?”
She passes me a flirtatious grin as she pops a tortilla chip into her mouth. “I am. I didn’t think they’d play that in jolly ol’ England,” she jokes, trying to mimic my accent.
“I’m fairly certain where there are adolescent teenagers, there will be Truth or Dare. This is similar, with a minor variation. A person asks you a question and you can either answer it truthfully or drink. No dares to make out in a closet or crank call the object of your affection.”
Our waitress approaches and drops off the shots I’d ordered, her timing impeccable.
“Sounds reasonable enough.”
“I should warn you, if you drink, it’s not a sip from your beer.” I nod at the row of shot glasses in front of us. “It’s a shot of tequila.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.” She playfully bats her lashes, drawing my attention to her large, blue-lilac eyes that shine even in the dim lighting of the bar.
“No. Simply trying to give you an incentive to open up instead of hide behind your mask. Or tequila, as it were.” I grin. “So, what do you say? You up for a game?” With a single brow arched, I tilt my bottle toward hers, waiting for her agreement.
Her gaze flickers between me and the shot glasses as she weighs her options. Then she shrugs, lifting her beer and clinking the bottle against mine. “Let the games begin.”
We each take a sip, sealing the deal, our eyes never straying from each other.
“As always, ladies first.” I gesture toward her. “Ask me anything your little heart desires.”
Her plump lips curve into a charming smirk that causes my pulse to kick up a bit. “Are you sure about that? My mind can be a twisted place.”
Placing my forearms on the table, I lean closer. “That’s what I’m counting on, gorgeous.”
Desire seeps from my words and I pause, admiring her reaction. Her mouth parts, breathing growing more uneven as her cheeks turn pink.
“Now, ask away.” I sit back, watching as she takes a moment to collect herself, expelling a long breath. Then she squares her shoulders, her eyes resolute and steadfast.
“Okay then. What’s your favorite sexual position?”
“Not beating around the bush, are you?”
“I figure it’s best to take a more…direct approach with you.”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
I bring up my leg, resting my calf on the opposite thigh, making it appear as if I’m about to answer her question. Nora’s expression lights up with intrigue. Then I grab one of the shot glasses. She frowns.
“Sorry, doll. As much as I’d love to tell you all about my favorite sexual position, I’d rather wait to show you.” I throw back the shot, the liquid burning slightly as it travels down my throat and into my stomach. “My turn.” I slam the glass down, ignoring Nora’s wide eyes at my admission, her jaw dropping. “That vibrator I noticed in your suitcase.”
“What about it?” she asks cautiously.
“Have you used it since we met?”
Several protracted moments pass as she looks between me and the line of shots, weighing her options.
“I have.” A sly smile crawls across her mouth.
I harden, my grip on the beer bottle tightening from the mere notion. God, this woman will be my undoing. I’m trying so hard to keep my head around her, but I can’t deny the way I crave her.
“Did you think about anyone in particular while you got off?” I ask gruffly, my eyes intense as they lock with hers.
She folds a leg underneath her and slowly pushes herself up, closing the distance. My heart thunders in my chest, the air between us no longer thick with awkward tension but with raw desire. She licks her lips, drawing my attention to them.
“I believe that’s another question,” she breathes, then adds, “gorgeous.” With a smirk, she lowers herself back to the booth.
“Now I know what my next question will be. Although I already know the answer.”
“Don’t be so sure. No one likes cockiness.” The instant the word leaves her lips, her eyes widen and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I mean—”
“I’m willing to bet money that you’d quite like my cock…iness.”
Her face turning a shade of red that would rival that of the salsa on our table, she grabs a chip and chucks it at me. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant.”
“I think it was, darling,” I tease, laughing.
She aver
ts her gaze, but can’t stop the smile from forming on her mouth. Soon, she joins in my laughter, the sound like music to my ears after the past twenty-four hours. This is what we needed. Good food. Strong drinks. And a reminder that life shouldn’t be taken so seriously.
And for the next several hours, we don’t take life too seriously. We laugh. We share stories from our past. I learn Nora is the youngest of four and has three older brothers. And I tell her all about my family, apart from the whole royalty thing, although I’m finding myself more and more eager to share that part of my life with her, too.
Nora’s the first person I’ve met in a long time who I want to know all of me, who I feel like I can trust with that. Most of my life, people only wanted to be around me because of the notoriety and fame that comes with dating the Crown Prince of Belmont. It wasn’t until I met Kendall, who had no idea who I was, that I knew what it felt like to be with someone who wanted to be with me for me. I didn’t think I’d ever experience that again… Until now. And like with Kendall, I know it won’t change how Nora feels about me.
“Okay. Okay. Here’s one.” Nora takes a large gulp of her ice water. “And it’s something I’ve been curious about since I met you.”
“And that is?” I ask with an arched brow.
“What the hell kind of work do you do that you get to take off all this time?” She brings the straw back toward her mouth. My eyes are drawn to the way her lips wrap around it, making it difficult to focus. The alcohol hasn’t helped, either. “I thought I was lucky being able to take off for two weeks. But you…” She waves her arm around, her motions slow, speech lazy. “You’ve been on the road for what? Over a month?”
I nod. “More or less,” I answer, not wanting to go into the specifics of my recent travels.
“So what do you do?”
“That’s your question? What I do for work?”
“It is.”
“I was quite hoping you’d ask the weirdest place I’ve had sex.”
“Nope. Not going to happen. You’re not going to distract me with learning about you and sex.” She maintains a straight face, albeit with difficulty.
One thing I’ve learned about Nora is that she’s a happy drunk. And slightly amorous, too, which I won’t complain about. I’ve missed the subtle brushing of her skin against mine, each touch causing me to want more.
“So tell me, Anderson North…” She leans toward me, her breath intoxicatingly sweet, “what do you do for work?”
I study her, weighing my options. I could easily give her the standard response I give everyone when I travel under my pseudonym. But I proposed this game so we could learn more about each other. So we would stop keeping secrets. So we’d start opening up to one another, at least to the extent we’re comfortable. And I do want Nora to know this part of me. I want to erase the lies between us.
“I’m the Crown Prince of Belmont.”
She bursts out laughing, the sound drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the bar. “Nice try, but if you didn’t want to tell me, you could have taken a shot. Or can’t you handle your liquor anymore?”
I keep my expression calm as I level my gaze on her, wanting her to see I’m not joking.
“I can handle my liquor perfectly fine.” To prove it, I grab the last shot glass and throw it back. The tequila stings a little, but I manage to push down the burn. “I understand why you’d think I wasn’t being honest, but it’s true. I’m the Crown Prince of the Nation of Belmont, heir to the throne when my father, King Gabriel Maxwell Luther Hamilton Wellingston, either passes away or steps down from his position. Go ahead and Google me.” I slide her phone toward her. “Crown Prince Gabriel Anderson Joseph Xavier Wellingston of Belmont.”
She studies me for a moment, seemingly torn between brushing off my answer as a joke and believing me. Her curiosity eventually gets the better of her, and she swipes her cell off the table.
“Think I can just type in Prince Gabriel? That’s a lot of fucking names to remember.”
I chuckle. “You’re telling me.”
A few moments pass. I assume she stumbled on the Wiki article about me, which is usually the first result. Squinting, she reads out loud.
“Prince Gabriel (born Gabriel Anderson Joseph Xavier on February 27, 1985) is the oldest son of King Gabriel and Princess Grace, who passed away from complications due to Multiple Sclerosis in 1995. He is the Crown Prince and will ascend to the throne when his father passes away or voluntarily resigns. He has one sister, Esme Louisa Victoria Grace, the Princess Royal.”
Her brow crinkles, and I can see the recognition as she reads Esme’s name. Then she straightens.
“This still doesn’t prove anything. I’ll admit, you do bear a slight resemblance to him.” She turns her cell to me, and I see a photo from an event several years ago, my hair styled back, face shaven. A complete shift from my current appearance.
“You’re right. It doesn’t. But this might change your mind.” I grab her phone and type a new search term into the browser and click on the first link, handing it back to her.
“What’s this?” she asks warily.
“Some reporters don’t have anything better to do than gossip about a member of the Royal Family getting a tattoo.” I watch as she enlarges the photo in the article, then inhales sharply, her eyes widening.
She runs her finger over the image, unable to deny it now, not when she saw that same tattoo on my chest mere hours ago. “The compass…,” she breathes.
“My father lost his bloody head when he found out.” I chuckle at the memory, although it didn’t seem amusing at the time. “That’s one of the pitfalls about being born into a family with notoriety. You can’t get away with lying to your father. If you fuck up or break the rules, chances are someone was there to witness it.”
She shakes her head. “But—”
“I don’t want you to think I lied to you,” I interrupt. “In my inner circle, I’ve always gone by Anderson. My father’s Gabriel. I did spend my younger years at school in London. When it was time to go to university, I didn’t want to get preferential treatment because of who I was, so I enrolled under an alias the Royal Guard developed for me. And whenever I want to disappear and be normal, that’s the name I travel under. Anderson North. I may not have told you about my title, but everything else has been true, Nora. The person you’ve gotten to know this past week is me.”
She takes a few more seconds to process this, my admission having sobered her. Then she brings her eyes back to mine. “You really are a prince?”
“I really am a prince.”
She peers out over the dance floor at several of the patrons who have started to dance to the live band. I stare at her, feeling like a man accused of a heinous crime he didn’t commit awaiting the verdict. For some reason, I’m desperate for Nora to accept this.
When she finally looks at me, I hold my breath, praying she’s not about to walk away. Then she bursts into a fit of giggles. “What the fuck are you doing here with me then?”
Tension rolls off my shoulders, and I exhale deeply. “That’s another question. But I will tell you this…” I clutch her hand, running my thumb along her knuckles. “There’s no place I’d rather be than in this dive bar with you.”
“Even though I’m completely ordinary?”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I lean across the table, my voice low. “You’re not ordinary. Not in my eyes. I find you exceptional. A breath of fresh air in a world that usually only sees me as a way to climb the social ladder. Which is why I normally don’t share this with people I meet, at least not when I’m traveling on personal business, like now. I value my anonymity.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
“For some strange reason I can’t even begin to understand, I wanted you to know this about me. Wanted you to know the truth. And I was right.”
She tilts her head. “About what?”
“That it hasn’t changed the way you see me.” I smile as I run my
fingers over her skin. “You still look at me the same way.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever see you as a prince, even if you’re in front of me wearing a crown and sitting on a throne. To me, you’ll always be Anderson North.”
I exhale a sigh of relief, her response exactly what I’d hoped. “That’s all I ever want you to see me as. For you to look past the crown and see the man sitting beneath it. Nothing else.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Nora
I blink away my shock, still trying to wrap my head around this unexpected turn of events. Chloe would lose her mind if she knew, considering she once worked as a celebrity news columnist and penned a few stories about Prince Gabriel. Hell, since Prince Harry was taken off the market, she’d named him the most eligible prince. But just like Anderson doesn’t want me to only see a prince when I look at him, I don’t want any inside information Chloe may possess to color my opinion, either.
I’m not sure I want to share him with Chloe yet anyway. We had a slight rip in our bubble today. I like to think we’ve repaired it, that we’re back in our cocoon where it’s just us. No one else. I fear sharing this with Chloe will destroy our bubble.
“Okay. My turn.” Anderson’s voice enters my thoughts.
I bring my eyes to meet his. Now that I know the truth, I do see the resemblance, although I must admit, I like this version of Anderson much better than his public persona, with the slicked-back hair and clean-shaven jawline. He’s still attractive like that, but I like my Anderson a little rough around the edges. Like he is now.
“I’m not sure how to follow that one. I’m not really a princess or anything,” I joke.
“True. But you still have valuable secrets I’d love to crack.”
“Not as earth-shattering as that.”
