Was dating Alex just another role to him? They’d never talked about what happened next. Alex had just assumed . . .
God, she was a fool, wasn’t she?
“If you’ll excuse me,” Alex said faintly, pulling her arm from Beckee’s clinging one. “I’m late for an appointment and I really must be going.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words and charged at Margaret, who was returning with one of the craft services staff. “We’re leaving,” she told her companion.
Lady Margaret frowned. “Is there a problem?”
Yes. “Not at all. I’m just not feeling very well.”
Beckee trailed behind her. “Can we meet for drinks later, Princess? I can add you to my planner. I’d love to sit with you and chat—”
For once, Alex was grateful for Margaret’s aristocratic snarl.
***
“She’s gone.” Beckee pouted. “I didn’t even get the chance to put her in my phone as a contact.”
Luke flipped another page in the last-minute script changes Nick had sent his way, distracted. Beckee was good at her job but damn, she was annoying. She also had shit timing. Hard enough to concentrate on filming this next bit in the movie when all he wanted to do was turn around and go right back to bed with Alex. Poland was going to be the longest fucking six weeks of his life, but he was already making plans to clear his schedule, spend the rest of the summer in Bellissime, get to know his sweet princess a little more . . . He forced himself to glance up, her words registering. “Who’s gone?”
“Princess Alexandra.”
He frowned and glanced around the studio. No sign of his Alex. Was it her mother? “One, two, or three?”
“What?”
“They’re all named Alexandra. Was it the queen, the daughter, or the granddaughter?”
Beckee waved her phone. “How should I know? The young one! The one you’re bearding for!”
He froze. Bearding? Bearding? “What?”
“I said, the young one. The—”
“I know what you said. Why would you think I’m bearding for her?”
Beckee blinked at him. “Because she’s not pretty?”
He was dumbfounded. “Of course she’s pretty. She’s beautiful.” Had she never seen Alex’s adorable dimples or the way she looked when her eyes got all soft? And under those modest clothes, she had gorgeous, small tits and an ass that wouldn’t quit.
“I mean she’s regal and all, but she’s not Hollywood pretty. Not like Pam.”
“I like the way she looks.” And not the way Pam looked, because Pam was pretty much half plastic at this point.
Beckee’s expressive face scrunched up. “So you’re not bearding for her?”
“No! Why would you think that?”
“Because she’s hugely famous and you’re dating someone for a high profile, right? Like we talked about?”
“No, I genuinely like Alex.”
She blinked again, like an owl. Or a deer caught in headlights. “Oh. Oh, dear.”
Panic flared in Luke. “What did you say to her, Beckee? Tell me exactly.”
***
This was a fucking nightmare. Luke rubbed his face and stared impatiently out the window as the sedan crawled through the crowds toward Bellissime Palace. He should have been shooting his scenes, but instead, he’d left the set and managed to piss off his director and his team, who thought he was being unreasonable.
Fuck that. They were the problem in the first place. Part of him wanted to choke Beckee for making such a careless mistake. For all that Alex was a princess of a European country, she was incredibly naïve about some things. She wouldn’t understand that Luke might have dated someone to raise his profile once. Nor would she understand that what they had was totally different. That meeting a girl in a limo five minutes prior to pretending to hold hands on the red carpet was vastly different than waking up with Alex curled around him and wishing he never had to get out of bed.
That she’d changed his life. That she made him want different things, like a life outside of the next script or movie premiere. That he didn’t realize how hollow and unhappy he’d been until she’d smiled at him.
Nothing mattered if he didn’t have Alex. The realization was stunning and yet so true. If he lost her? He’d be utterly destroyed in every way.
That just wouldn’t happen, then. He’d find a way to fix this. He’d talk to Alex and make her realize the mistake Beckee had made. Clear things up. Make her smile again. Make her realize that he wasn’t in this for just a month or two, but forever.
Unless . . . temporary was all Alex had wanted?
Luke wavered, his ego bruised at the thought of Alex possibly taking Beckee’s words as an easy way out of their relationship. She wasn’t trying to ditch him . . . was she?
Not his princess. That was just his old self-doubt creeping up, the demon in his head that told him he’d never be anything except trailer trash. That someone of Alex’s class and breeding wouldn’t want him. His princess wasn’t like that, and he wouldn’t believe otherwise.
He was practically crawling out of his skin with impatience when his car finally got to the front gate of the palace. The driver rolled down his window and spoke to the guard at the gatehouse. A moment later, the guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Houston is no longer on the authorized list for visitors.”
“What?” Luke shoved his face forward, until he was practically in the driver’s lap. He craned his neck to stare out the window at the guard. “I’ve been staying here for the last several weeks! How is that possible?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m told that you’re no longer on the authorized list. I’m sure if you have things in the palace they will be delivered to your hotel.” The guard’s face was carefully blank.
Luke flung himself back in his seat. Damn it. So she was going to try and erase him out of her life to mend her broken heart, was she?
He’d simply have to find another way in. And then he’d talk to Alex, and make her realize how much he loved her.
“Turn around,” he barked to the driver. “And find a deserted side street.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said, and began the ordeal of backing up the car on the crowded street.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bellissime’s palace was on several acres of manicured grounds and surrounded by a high, wrought-iron fence. Luke remembered Alex commenting on how she’d managed to sneak to their date without being seen leaving the palace. There was a secret tunnel by the old carriage house.
He’d just have to find that damn tunnel.
Luke had the driver drop him off and park the car nearby, and then walked along the railing for a block or two, trying to figure out how to get in. He felt a bit like a naughty schoolboy, his entire body stiffening every time a car passed by. After a few minutes of pacing, he found the carriage house and jogged toward it.
Alex had told him about it on one of their dates; it was a building on the palace grounds, restored into a private residence for long-term guests of the palace. It had once housed all the royal carriages and thus had been the natural place to build a secret tunnel to allow a speedy getaway in case of trouble. Of course, as he approached the house, he had no clue where the secret door would be. Ground floor, maybe?
He’d just have to tear the damn place apart until he found it.
Determined, Luke glanced around before heading to the front door. It was almost stupid to walk right up to the place, but he knew it was empty. The staff had commented several times that he was the only current visitor. The door was ornate and old fashioned but had a regular doorknob, so he pulled out a credit card and jimmied the lock until it slid open.
The interior of the house was a smaller replica of the palace itself, minus the sweeping staircases and baroque chandeliers. Delicate Queen Anne furniture was artfully placed in the entryway
and fresh flowers decorated a nearby vase. Upstairs, he could hear a vacuum running, a sign that there were staff nearby and he needed to stay out of sight. Where to start? He turned to an enormous oil portrait on the wall next to the staircase and ran his fingers along the edge of the gilded frame.
“Oh good, you’re here.”
The smooth, slightly accented voice took him by surprise, and Luke spun around. A woman sat delicately at a table in a nearby room, the door open. She flipped through a magazine, a cup of tea before her. She was of an indeterminate age, her face unlined. Her hair was dark and pulled back into an elegant chignon and she wore a pale pink jacket and skirt that he might have seen in Alex’s closet. He’d never seen her before yet there was something very familiar about her jaw . . .
And then she smiled at him, a hint of dimple peeping in her cheek.
“Princess . . . Alexandra?” Was this Alex’s mother?
Her smile grew broader and she stood elegantly, smoothing her skirt with tiny white gloves. “My correct title is now Alexandra Olivia, Duchess of Vallée Profonde, which means Deep Valley. I’m afraid my ancestors had more money than artistic sensibilities when it came to naming our lovely country.” She tilted her head at him. “I abdicated in favor of my daughter a few years ago. She is now Princess Alexandra.”
“Of course.” He strode forward and offered her his hand, then realized he’d been caught breaking and entering. “Uh.” He drew back. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“You’re not here to find Alex?”
She knew? “Okay, then maybe this is what it looks like. How did you—”
Alex’s mother daintily lifted one hand and began to tug on the fingertips of her glove. “Because I know my daughter. She’s very stubborn and remote when her feelings are hurt, and she’s been utterly joyous the last few weeks. Today, she was very cool to everyone, retreated to her room, and insisted that you were to be removed from the visiting list at the palace. It’s not difficult to figure out that there was trouble.” She removed her glove and glanced at him. “And then I saw you on the cameras and realized you’d probably try to find a way in. Given that you knew about the secret passages, I assumed you’d turn up here. It looks like I assumed correctly.” She smiled and offered him her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, by the way.”
“You, too.” He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, thoughts whirling. When he straightened, she was still smiling at him and it dawned on him that she knew a lot more about his relationship with Alex than he realized. “Secret passages?”
She waved her hand in the air, the mannerism so similar to Alex it made his heart ache. “Oh, darling, I know all about sneaking in and out of those. I was Alex’s age once, and you’re much better looking than any of my paramours were.” She gave him a wink and he remembered some of the things Alex had mentioned about her mother sowing her wild oats. It seemed that his princess wasn’t the only naughty one. She’d inherited her rebellious streak from her mother.
“I need to talk to Alex,” he told the elder Alexandra. “She had a conversation on set with someone who was misinformed and jumped to conclusions, and I want to set things straight. She . . .” He cleared his throat, feeling a bit like a schoolboy under that knowing, motherly gaze. “I love your daughter, ma’am. Er, Princess.” Then he remembered she wasn’t really a princess anymore. “Um. Alexandra.”
Her smile widened and if she noticed his breach of etiquette, she didn’t call it out. “I’m thrilled to hear that you feel so strongly about my daughter. She’s very lonely. She loves her country and her duties, but she struggles with connecting with people. That’s why I’m so happy she’s found you.” One eyebrow arched. “Unless you plan on breaking her heart?”
The thought stabbed him with fear. “I don’t want to hurt her. I want to marry her.”
Both eyebrows went up. “Well, you need a royal decree for that, and my mother’s a bit old fashioned.” Alexandra smiled and strolled forward, to a large mirror in the parlor. “But I’ll handle her. You should go talk to Alex.”
Her fingers brushed over the edge of the mirror, and the fireplace in the parlor began to turn slowly, revealing a hidden passage.
Luke’s heart pounded with excitement. He impulsively moved forward and hugged the older woman. “You’re going to be an awesome mother-in-law.”
She giggled, sounding girlish and half her age. “I certainly hope so.”
***
Alex hugged her pillow and wished she could run away from home. It was a stupid wish for a grown woman, and a princess to boot, but she couldn’t help the feeling of needing to escape. Since she couldn’t, she’d just hide in her bed like a child, cry her eyes out, and then move on with her life.
Without Luke, the man who’d used her.
Hot tears spilled down her face and Alex dashed them away for the hundredth time that day. She should have known better. She should have guessed that a man as sexy, as charming, and as successful as him wouldn’t really want some naïve princess who didn’t even know the first thing about kissing. What did she have to offer him other than media attention?
Okay, now she was just being silly, Alex chided herself. She was a European princess and first in line to the throne of Bellissime. She was rich. She was educated. Lots of men would want her if she wanted them.
But . . . she wanted Luke Houston, and he was a wildly famous actor and a rising star. Even some things were out of reach of a princess.
She scrubbed at her face with a fist, trying to calm down before she ended up bawling again. How long did it take to get over heartbreak? Because right now? She felt like her world was ending. The thought of Luke just using her to get media attention? It hurt more than she could bear. Maybe she should take a page from her mother’s book and leave Bellissime more often, travel the world.
Except . . . she loved her country. She loved representing it and she loved being involved. She loved learning from Grandmama and working toward someday being a good monarch. Being the Crown Princess was who she was . . . even if it did make her a naïve idiot who chased after Hollywood actors. She was normally so very self-assured. What was it about love that made her a weepy idiot?
A scrape off to the side, like the sound of a door being pushed open, made her sit up in her bed. Over on the far side of her bedroom, the door to the secret passage was opening. She frowned at it, surprised—
And then gasped when Luke strode in, as determined and fierce as he was in any of his movies.
Alex scrunched backward on the bed, her pillows shoving up against her back. “What are you doing here?”
“Why’d you leave the set?” He strode forward, and she could tell he was still in his set clothing, his T-shirt torn around the neck and a fake bruise on his cheek.
“I—I don’t want to talk to you ever again! I can’t believe you used me!” She pointed at the wall he’d just emerged from. “Get out, or I’ll call the guards.”
“Alex, be reasonable,” Luke warned as he moved to her bed. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk things through—”
“I’ll scream,” she warned. “You don’t belong here and I’ll have you removed!”
His eyes narrowed and the next moment, he was on top of her in the bed, pinning her hands down. His mouth covered hers in a hard kiss, and she went stiff under him . . . for about two seconds. Then she melted against him the moment his tongue stroked against hers. The kiss seemed to go on forever, until she was dazed and breathless under him.
“Now,” he murmured, lifting his mouth from hers. “Are you going to be a brat or are you going to talk to me like a regular human being and tell me what’s wrong?”
“You know what’s wrong,” she hissed at him, her hands jerking under his. Him holding her down on the bed should not have been sexy, but now, after that kiss? Her mind was whirling with all kinds of naughty thoughts . . . and those thoughts
only made her feel worse. Fresh tears threatened, and she closed her eyes, averting her face.
“Oh, Alex. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.” Luke’s voice was soft. He released her wrists and gently cupped her face, kissing her. “I hate that I’ve made you cry somehow.”
“Of course I’m crying,” she said, and hated that she was. Her heart and soul ached. “How would you feel after finding out you’ve been used simply for tabloid fodder?”
“Well,” he said, and gently kissed her again. “I’d have probably confronted the person and found out the truth from them instead of jumping to conclusions.”
He was blaming her? Alex clenched her jaw. “But if that person was an actor and made a living at pretending? And had lied to you thus far? What would you do then?”
She was pleased to see him wince. “I didn’t lie to you, Alex,” Luke said. “My publicist is just . . . overzealous. She’s been shoving women at me for years to try and raise my profile.”
“Do you deny that you’ve dated women just to get ahead?”
His brows furrowed. “No, I don’t deny it. That’s just how Hollywood works. But those weren’t even relationships. They were just . . . coordinated meetings. There was nothing romantic about them at all. You and I are totally different.”
“How? How are we different? How can you expect me to believe you?”
“You think I slept with all those actresses? Seriously?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said, and her voice caught. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Fine,” he said, and sat upright on the bed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to flip through it.
Was he telling the truth or was this more setup for his lies? She sat up, slowly, feeling unsettled. “What are you doing?”
“Finding you some of my supposed ex-girlfriends for you to talk to.” He thumbed through a list of contacts on his phone and then handed it to her. “You can call Gina,” he said, pointing at one of the names. “She’s gay but her manager won’t let her come out because it’ll hurt her leading-lady status. Or Ashley. Same thing. Or you can call Pam. You know her, right? My co-star? She’s dating a married director and is faking a relationship with another actor to give him a boost. That’s how it’s done. It’s not about sex or love. Not like me and you.”
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