I skidded into the entry hall and zeroed in on my prize. In one swift movement, I bundled her up in my arms and pressed my lips to her throat, about to whisper something downright filthy.
And then I noticed we weren’t alone.
I nearly dropped Tamara in shock, but caught myself in time to slowly lower her to her feet. Tamara had stopped when she reached this room because she noticed something I hadn’t—an alarmed looking maid clutching a bucket of cleaning supplies to her chest.
The maid’s eyes bugged out. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I have an appointment this afternoon so I thought I’d nip in a bit early to get started. I didn’t realize there would be anyone here.”
She could have dropped in at a better time, but she could’ve dropped in at a worse time too. All in all, our disturbance wasn’t that big a deal. I offered up a gentle smile.
“That’s not a problem. I told few people we were here.”
She nodded. “I’ll come back later.”
“No, no,” I said, waving at her. “That’s fine. You’ve already made the drive.” I wrapped my arm around Tamara’s shoulders. “We ought to be getting on anyway. Have a cup of tea and by the time you’re done we’ll be out of your hair.”
Tamara and I left the maid standing by the door, still traumatized, and headed for the master bedroom. The second she was out of earshot, I burst into laughter.
Tamara gave me an odd look.
“What?” I asked. “It’s funny.”
“What if she tells somebody?”
We reached the bedroom and Tamara started hastily packing up her bag. I walked behind her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, resting my chin on her head.
“She’s not going to tell anybody,” I said. “She’s a servant of the royal house. Do you think that’s the craziest thing she’s ever seen?”
This did little to dislodge her troubles. Tamara’s lips narrowed into a fine line as she finished filling her bag, and I left her to it while I packed up my own things. We had a long drive on the way back to talk things over.
After collecting the rest of our things from downstairs, Tamara, Hank and I piled into my SUV and hit the road.
“She knew who I was,” Tamara said as we bumbled down the drive. “She recognized me.”
“So?”
“Magazines would pay well for that kind of gossip.”
I chuckled. “Tamara, you think I don’t know that? You’re talking to a man who spends as much time in the pages of gossip rags as a celebrity correspondent.”
“Then why aren’t you worried? It’s not like the royal staff have never blabbed before.”
There had been a few unfortunate incidents over the years, mostly in relation to my now-deceased uncle. He was a bit of a scamp when he lived at the palace, and though the public saw little of him he made quite the impression with the staff. He wavered between demanding and outright ludicrous most of the time, and upon his death an expose from an anonymous contributor made headlines around the world. I was a child at the time, but my father still deals with the aftermath.
“I don’t think our accidental voyeur will want to risk losing her job over a little canoodling at the summer home.” I cast a glance at her, troubled by her tight expression. “You worry an awful lot about the media, don’t you?”
Tamara looked straight ahead, never meeting my eye. “That’s part of being famous, isn’t it?”
I sensed there was more to the story, but didn’t want to pry. Tamara seemed like she needed distracting more than anything else, so I tapped at the console until a playlist of seventies disco started blaring through the speakers.
Tamara relaxed a little, shooting me a cheeky grin. “How did you know?”
“You mentioned it in an interview last summer,” I said.
Tamara cocked a brow at me.
“What?” I said. “You’re not the only one who’s allowed to be a stalker.”
“I am not a stalker.”
“Okay, dedicated fan.”
“Alexander.”
“Tamara.”
She groaned. “It’s going to be a long drive home.”
By the time I dropped Tamara off at her place, she seemed to have forgotten all about our little mishap with the maid. She kissed me and thanked me for the lovely getaway, and I watched her all the way to the front door, wondering how I got so lucky.
Back at the palace, Hank and I hung out on the lawn for a bit, but the effect wasn’t the same as it was at Springfield Manor.
Once back inside, I made my way to the kitchen with Hank tagging at my heels. I’d make a nice cup of tea and go to my apartment to work on my charity project. Maybe that would get my mind off Tamara for a moment or two.
Nana was in the kitchen, stirring something in a large bowl. She looked up when I entered and smiled.
“Alex,” she said. “You’re just in time to lick the bowl.”
I laughed and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “I’m afraid I haven’t licked a bowl in quite some time. You’d be better off trying Hank.”
Nana resumed stirring. “That dog is already spoiled rotten.”
“And who do you think I learned a thing or two about spoiling from, hmm?” I put on the kettle. “Tea, Nana?”
“You’re a good lad. Just a small one.”
While I grabbed tea bags, Nana walked over to the oven and began spooning the mixture into a muffin tin. Her technique was the same as it had always been, though her hands shook a little more these days.
“I haven’t seen you bake in a while,” I commented.
She nodded, eyes focused on her task. “You’re never around,” she said. “Though in all fairness, I bake a lot less than I used to. I remember the days when I couldn’t get through the day without one of you lot begging me to bake cookies with you.”
“What’s on the menu today?”
“Blueberry muffins,” she said. “Victoria’s been feeling a little peaky. I thought they might cheer her up.”
Nana was always so thoughtful. I could recall dozens of sick days over the years perfumed by the smell of fresh-baked muffins or scones and lemon tea. It was a tradition Nana had continued after my mother’s death, but not out of any feeling of pity or obligation. If Nana didn’t care about us, she wouldn’t be making my adult sister blueberry muffins.
“The Swedes are coming back in a week I hear,” Nana said a moment later, just as I added a splash of milk to her tea. She finished filling the muffin tin and popped it in the oven.
“And?”
“And I hear that Svetlana girl is a remarkable beauty with a quick wit,” she said.
“Princess Svetlana is an accomplished young lady with a fine pedigree,” I replied. “She’s also no concern of mine.”
“That’s not what Eddie seems to think.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the counter, watching as Nana brought the bowl to the sink and began to rinse it out.
“Eddie wants me to marry her, of course,” I said. “The fact that he’s getting you to act on his behalf is a new low for him.”
Nana turned her head sharply and glared at me with narrowed eyes. “I speak my own mind, thank you very much. It matters not to me whether you marry a princess or an oak.”
“What’s your angle then?”
Nana wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to her mug of tea. She picked it up in her gnarled hands.
“You know when it comes to free will, I’m always on your side,” she said. “But I’m also the first to tell you when you’re being stubborn.”
I laughed. “And you think I’m being stubborn now?”
“Would it hurt to give the girl a chance?” she asked. “Apparently, your only reason for not wanting to is that she’s a princess and that’s too close to the company line for comfort.”
“That’s not the only reason.”
Nana’s frozen blue gaze cut through me. “Enlighten me.”
I ran a hand through my hair, sighing. “I’ve
been seeing a girl.”
“A girl?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “She’s a commoner and I’m crazy about her. We haven’t told anybody because she’s worried about negative press coverage, but all the same I’m in no rush to enter marriage negotiations with anybody else.”
“Hmm.” Nana’s wrinkled brow relaxed. “A commoner.”
“Are you so surprised?”
She chuckled. “When you’ve seen as much as I have, surprises come few and far between. I will say that I didn’t expect you to settle down so quickly.”
“Nobody said anything about settling down.”
“Nobody had to.” She winked. “As for the Swedish princess, I suggest you do some serious thinking about your future over the next week.”
“I will.” I looked toward the oven. “When are those muffins going to be ready?”
Chapter 15
Tamara
Jo’s door was closed when I got home, and loud music blasted from the other side. It was as distinct a “KEEP OUT” sign as any, but I didn’t want to leave it any longer before we figured things out. Jo and I rarely fought. It made me physically uncomfortable, like an itch under my skin that I couldn’t scratch.
I put on the kettle and made us both a cup of tea, then went to knock on her door. The music ceased and a second later she called, “Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
A pause. “Sure.”
I opened the door to find Jo sitting cross-legged on her bed, her laptop laying on the pillow beside her. “I made you a cup of tea. Want to come to the living room so we can chat?”
“Sure.”
Jo followed me out of the room and sat down on the couch. I handed her a mug of tea and took a seat next to her, angling my body to face her.
“I want to hear why you dropped out of school,” I said. “I’m not going to interrupt. I’m not going to judge. I just want to listen.”
Jo pulled her knees to her chin and chewed on her tongue, watching me. “What’s the point?” she asked. “I told you already and you don’t get it.”
“How about I try to listen better, and you try to explain better, and hopefully by the end of it we’ll understand each other.”
Jo watched me, weighing her options, before she gave a short nod.
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Like I said, there was too much pressure. It started to really mess with my head.”
“Pressure from Mom and Dad?”
“Mostly, but the whole pressure cooker environment of the school wasn’t doing anything for me either. I was already on edge, and then at the end of the semester everybody just turns into these automated drones as they slog through finals. It sucks.”
“Mom and Dad just want what’s best for you.”
She shot me a caustic smile. “I know that. But did you or them ever think that maybe what’s best for me isn’t the university track?”
I sat back a little, taking a sip of tea. “What do you mean?”
“Ever since I was little, everything in my life has been leading up to this,” she explained. “It was always finish high school, go to university, get a job. I already had a hard time accepting that was what my life was meant to be, and then you got your big break and it just got worse.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Acting is my dream, and it’s far from the conventional job. I thought me putting my all into achieving my dream would encourage you to follow yours.”
“That’s the thing!” She threw her hand in the air in exasperation. “I don’t have a dream, Tam-Tam. I’m getting to the end of university and I still have no idea what I’m going to do with my life. Everyone else has it figured out, Mom and Dad seem to think I’ve got it figured out, when really I’ve been trudging through the past few years with my eyes closed, throwing myself into my studies as hard as I can in the hopes that something will spark and I’ll finally figure it out.” She lowered her hand and her voice a little, chewing her bottom lip in contemplation. “I guess I just realized one day that there are other ways for me to figure it out. And I want to do that. I want the freedom to decide.”
I had to admit that what she was saying made a lot of sense to me, but I still disagreed on a few points. Plus, it felt like I owed it to Mom and Dad to at least try to make her understand their point of view.
“Lots of people don’t have it figured out,” I said. “But what happens when you do find your passion and don’t have the education you need to follow it?”
“What passion would that be?” she asked in a flat tone. “Business management? I don’t think so. And what if I go back and waste all this time on a degree I’ll never use, only to fall in love with surfing or animal husbandry?” She reached for my hand. “Tamara, I’m not asking you to defend my cause to Mom and Dad. All I’m asking is for a little time, a little space, to sort out all the crazy things flying around my head without stuffing it full of university detritus. Can you give me that?”
She seemed so lost in that moment, her big blue eyes full of sincerity and emotion, that I couldn’t deny her a single thing. Especially when she made a good point.
“I’ll call Mom and tell her that you’re staying with me for the summer,” I said. “But after that, you’re on your own. You’ll either need to go back to school or prove to them that this time off is worth continuing. Okay?”
Jo flashed a smile. “Yes! Thank you!”
“And you can’t just spend the whole summer canoodling with your little duke,” I said, waving my finger at her. “You need to do some serious soul searching.”
“I won’t leave a stone unturned,” she said. “This means so much to me. Thank you, Tamara.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “I knew that I could count on you.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “You already won me over. There’s no need to lay it on so thick.” I checked the time on my phone. “Mom should be up now. Do you want to stick around to hear this or...?”
Jo retracted her hand. “I’m going to go back to my room.”
We both laughed, and once her door was closed I dialed my Mom’s number and held my breath.
“Tamara!” she answered. “Please tell me your sister is on a flight back home.”
“Erm, no,” I said. “She’s actually going to stay with me for the summer and work some things out.”
“Things?” she said, as if the word tasted sour on her tongue. “What kind of things could she possibly have to work out?”
“Trust me, Mom, this will be good for her.”
“How could throwing her future away possibly be good for her?”
I closed my eyes, wincing. “Like I said, you’ve just got to trust me. She’s going through a lot and I think it’ll be best for everyone in the long run if she takes a little time to breathe.”
Mom didn’t like that, and fought me on it for another solid five minutes before reluctantly agreeing not to come over and drag Jo back home herself. After we ended the call I dragged myself to my bedroom, exhausted even though I’d done barely anything all day.
I collapsed onto my bed with a happy sigh and, with thoughts of Alexander bouncing through my head, slipped away into a cozy nap.
The next morning, I arrived on set refreshed and recharged. I smiled at everyone I met and practically skipped from my trailer to the costuming department. Even standing still for half an hour while they stuck pins in me did little to tarnish my mood.
Then, of course, I had to walk outside and see Michael.
The fact that I’d started running into him so often seemed suspicious. We’d done a pretty good job of avoiding each other since the breakup, but now it seemed every time I turned a corner he was there.
I was on my way to the refreshments table for a quick coffee before makeup when he found me.
“Tamara,” he said airily, cozying up beside me. “How are you?”
I finished stirring sugar into my coffee and cast him a sideways glance. “Fine.”
I thought my tone made it clear
that I wasn’t interested in chatting, but apparently I was wrong.
“What did you get up to on your days off?” he asked. “Spend some time with your sister?”
I turned to face him, frowning. “How did you know Joanne’s here?”
“People talk,” he said with an easy smile. “They talk about all sorts of things.”
For something he said so casually it sure sounded like a threat. But what could he be threatening? Did he know something about my relationship with Alexander? Did he think he knew?
I grew uncomfortable under Michael’s intense stare and shifted my gaze to my cup. “I should get going.”
I passed him, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. Hot coffee spilled over the side of my cup. If I’d known I was about to be accosted by my ex-boyfriend, I would have taken a lid.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “Sorry about that.” Michael grabbed napkins from the table and started to blot my hand, his touch lingering just a little too long.
“I’ve been thinking, you know.” He kept his voice quiet, smooth. It was the voice he used to use when we made love. It was also the voice he used when we made love on screen. “About us.”
I pulled my hand from his grip. “There is no us.”
“I know.” He winked. “That’s the problem.”
“Oh, brother.” I rolled my eyes. “Michael, you can’t be serious. I already told you…”
“You think about me too. I know you do. Plus, the fans are practically begging for it.”
“The fans don’t know how wrong we were for each other,” I muttered. “Though if they paid attention they would.”
This didn’t faze him in the slightest. His smile made it seem like we were flirting, exchanging sexual-tension laden banter when really I was dying to break away. It was moments like this that made me wonder if Michael’s affection for me was ever genuine, or if our whole relationship was some sort of heartless publicity scheme on his end. It twisted a knife in my already sore wound.
“Come on, Tamara,” he said. “We had some great times together, didn’t we? What reason do you have not to give it another shot? It’s not like you’ve got anyone else.”
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