He stared at the carpet between his knees. “I do now, yeah. But how can I guarantee that I won’t fuck things up eventually? I always do, Aly. How can I guarantee that I won’t eventually end up slaughtering a woman’s heart the way he did?”
I took a breath. Swallowed. So that was the crux of it. My heart broke for him. What he was looking for—the assurance, the crystal ball telling him it wouldn’t happen—it didn’t exist. No one could give that to him.
“There is no guarantee,” I said, picking out my words carefully. “None of us gets one. You just try your best and make good decisions and hope things turn out okay. You are not him, Rob.”
Swinging his head to look at me, Rob rubbed his palms together, making the muscles in his back bunch against his shirt. “I won’t risk it, sweetheart. Maybe I’m an animal like him. Maybe I’m not. But I won’t risk hurting someone the way he hurt her.”
“An animal?” I stared at him. “Are you serious? That’s not you. Not when you’re with me.”
He nudged my knee with his. “You’ve known me all of six months, Aly. Trust me when I say you deserve better.”
“You keep saying that. And I’m going to keep telling you I’ll be the judge of what I deserve.”
Silence, heated and painful, stretched between us. I looked away. Ran my hands down my legs, smoothing my dress. The dress. When I was putting it on earlier tonight, I’d told myself I was wearing it for Philip. He always complimented me when I dressed up; I knew he’d like it. But deep down, I think I’d put it on for Rob. I’d had no idea I’d see him, of course. But I liked the way it made me feel, imagining how he’d react if he saw me in it.
For once, the reality had been better than the fantasy. The way he’d looked at me across the bar—like I was the only girl in the room, the world, the universe—no one had ever looked at me that way before. It’d been like something out of a fairy tale. Only better, because it was real.
The desire and respect and awe I felt for this man was real.
“Look,” I said, my heart fluttering like a panicked bird inside my chest. “I understand our rules. I was the one who made them. But I don’t understand how these letters can get in the way of what’s happening between us. Rob, I don’t want to care about you. But I do. I’m pretty damn sure you care about me, too. So stop punishing yourself for a crime you’ll probably never commit and give this a chance.”
Rob’s brow creased. His whole face creased with pain. His eyes were wet with tears.
A beat later, he set his jaw. His eyes went hard. It was like a mask had descended, his mood completely transformed in the space of a few seconds.
My heart turned over. I recognized this sudden transformation. It’d happened that day in the car after we’d been surprised by the paparazzi. Rob was shutting down. Pushing me away.
“You’re not hearing me, Aly,” he replied, raising his voice. “I’m not fucking doing this, all right? What don’t you get about that?”
I refused to jump at his shout, or back down. But inside, I was scared. Not of him. I was scared of losing him. Of losing this fairy tale before it even began.
“I see what you’re doing,” I said.
“Yeah?” He stood and stared down at me. “And what’s that?”
I stood, too, leaning in so our faces were inches apart. “You’re trying to push me away by being an asshole.”
He shook his head, scoffing. “See, that’s what you don’t get. I am an asshole. Deep down. And not even a pretty, deluded little thing like you can change that.”
I stared at him. I didn’t know what hurt more. The pretty little thing bit. Or the deluded one. I gritted my teeth.
“That’s going too far.”
He ducked his head. Got in my face. “That’s the point.”
I kept staring at him, my breath coming hot and fast through my nose. He was breathing hard, too. There was a glint in his eye—an edge of anger, and hate. Fear.
“You’re really going to do this,” I said.
He rolled his lips between his teeth. “I have to. Aly, you have to go.”
I blinked back the sudden sting of new tears.
There was no point in arguing. It was clear he wasn’t changing his mind. If he truly believed he was an animal—a scumbag, just like his grandfather—nothing I could say would convince him otherwise.
He was telling me he’d only hurt me in the end. I’d probably be smart to listen.
Still, my heart felt like a lead weight in my chest when I took a step back. I ached everywhere—between my legs, my lips. “I really hate that you think that way about yourself.”
He shrugged, looking away. He was trying to hide the hurt in his eyes, and failing.
“What are you going to do?” I continued, a last ditch effort. “Sleep with the whole city? Never let yourself fall in love?”
His eyes met mine. My heart began to pound. Why couldn’t I read him? I was shaking again. Uncontrollably.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t let myself fall in love. I said I wouldn’t let anyone fall in love with me.” He closed his eyes. Rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. When he spoke, his voice shook with emotion. “Please. Please try to understand, all right?”
I didn’t understand.
But eventually I did go.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rob
Two days later, I stared at my computer screen, the only light in the otherwise dark bedroom. That night I’d dropped Aly off at her flat. Neither of us had said a bloody thing on the drive. I’d hardly put the car in park outside her building when she’d shoved the door open and leapt out, slamming it wordlessly behind her.
I felt very low. And very drunk. My tumbler, which had been full of whiskey five seconds ago, was empty.
I’d been a proper dickhead. But I’d had to be. I’d tried to reason with her. Tried to explain why I was the way that I was. She hadn’t listened, though. She’d refused to understand.
So I’d had to prove it to her. Prove that I was a careless, selfish, mean prick who wasn’t any more capable of making her happy than a fish was of flying to the moon. People like me destroyed dreams. We didn’t make them come true.
The way she’d looked at me, with that dream of hers written so clearly in her eyes—
I brought my fist down on my keyboard. Hard. There was a crunch, followed by a mechanic wheeze. The screen flickered.
Fuck, I’d broken it.
Better the computer than Aly.
So what if she made me feel like the sort of man who really could keep her safe? That was a sad fucking joke. I could protect her from paparazzi. I could fix small fuck ups and swoop in when her Bumble dates stood her up.
But I couldn’t protect her from me. I was a bigger threat than any of those things combined.
God I missed her. Already. Not two days gone, and I missed her. I could smell her on my skin. Taste her cunt in my mouth.
Alexander had prepared me for a lot of things. But he hadn’t prepared me for this. For wanting a girl so badly it made me ache. A girl I could. Not. Have.
I tapped the return key. To my surprise, the screen blinked awake.
I started typing.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
SUBJECT: I’m sorry (Marked Confidential)
FROM THE DESK OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE ROBERT
Aly—can’t stop thinking about the other night. Never thought enemies like us would end up naked together. Again. Know you think I’m cocky, but come on, sweetheart…don’t tell me it’s not the best sex you’ve ever had.
I’m not a good man. But for the first time, I wish I were. Maybe then I’d deserve you. I don’t. Not when I come from a family like mine. All these secrets…
You’re gorgeous. Clever. You call me out on my bullshit, and I bloody adore it.
I adore you, sweetheart.
You have your new bloke. And I’m…me. The playboy prince. We’re not meant to be t
ogether. But staying away from you is killing me, Aly. Thinking about him touching you is killing me.
I’ve no right to talk to you like this. I’m sorry. It’s the whiskey talking. This is what you do to me.
Rob
P.S.—I can’t send this. But I am thinking of you.
I didn’t send it. I shut the computer and climbed into bed. The room spun, but my thoughts spun faster.
I’d done the right thing. Aly was playing for keeps. Which meant I had to keep my distance. I cared for her. She was the excellent one, and I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had.
I was no good for her. So I’d stay away.
I just prayed the upcoming stag-slash-hen party didn’t fuck with that plan. It was just one weekend. Three days.
I could do anything for three days. Even keep my hands off the girl who’d showed up out of the blue and turned my world upside-down.
The girl I couldn’t, for the life of me, stop thinking about.
Aly
That Morning
I wrapped my hands around my paper coffee cup, clinging to it for dear life. Philip sat across from me on the other side of the tiny café table. He looked a little pale—a little drawn. I hoped that had more to do with the bug he’d had and less with what I was about to say.
“Glad you’re feeling better,” I said.
A tendril of steam rose from the tiny plastic hole in the top of his cup.
“Those stomach bugs are ghastly,” he said. “I’m glad you didn’t get it.”
I managed a tight smile. I’d probably been spared because Philip and I had hardly kissed on our last date. On our last three dates, as a matter of fact.
Which proved this was the right move. But I still felt a little guilty about it. In a way, I’d known all along that I wasn’t into Philip, and I’d kept seeing him anyway. I’d also screwed another guy while Philip was hunched over a toilet, emptying out his guts.
The other night had not been my finest moment. For a lot of reasons.
Philip smiled at me. My stomach clenched.
Probably best to just rip the band aid off.
“So, Philip. I’ve been thinking. You’re a really great guy. You’re kind. You’re generous. You’re—”
“Not the one.” Now it was his turn to smile tightly.
I bit my lip. “Yeah. Look, I’m really sorry, I just…I wanted to give us a chance, you know? But be honest. The chemistry…”
“Just isn’t there.” He nodded. “Yeah. I get it. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could keep seeing you. I thought we had fun together.”
Sipping my coffee—my second cup so far this morning, I wasn’t exactly sleeping these days—I met his eyes. “We did have fun together. As friends. And you deserve something more than that. I’m not lying when I say you’re really great. I’m just not really great for you. If that makes, like, any sense.”
“It does.” He crossed his arms.
“Are you upset?”
He let out a breath. “Honestly? And I don’t mean to be rude—but not really.”
“See?” I laughed. “That proves my point. Don’t you want to be head over heels in love with someone? And don’t you want someone to feel the same way about you?”
Philip looked at me for a second. “Of course I do.”
“Then don’t settle for someone like me.”
He scoffed. Looked at me for a moment. Then he ran a hand down his face.
“All right,” he said. “Thanks for telling me in person. I hope you find him.”
“Him?”
“The guy.” He uncrossed his arms and carefully sipped his tea. “The one who’s really great for you.”
I smiled. “I know you’ll find the girl who’s really great for you.”
Philip and I shared an awkward hug goodbye. Then I left the coffee shop and hung a right. It was a crisp, clear fall day, the kind you only got once in a blue moon here in London. I had work to catch up on, but I wasn’t about to waste such a glorious Saturday sitting indoors.
So I popped my earbuds in and walked. I walked through Mayfair, passing Big Ben and Parliament. Then I crossed over the river to the south bank. I passed the Tate Modern. The Globe. The fragrant bustle of Borough Market.
Everything—the glint of the river and the smell in the air and the people I passed—made me think of Rob. I hadn’t heard from him since I’d slammed the car door in his face a couple nights ago. But he’d been with me every moment of every day and night since. When I was awake, I thought of him constantly. In the few hours a night I managed to sleep, I dreamed about him. About how good it’d felt when he’d pulled me close. The anger in his eyes when he’d pushed me away.
It could’ve been the Bon Iver song I was listening to, but suddenly my throat tightened. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cold autumn air.
This was stupid. I was being stupid. I’d known—really known—Rob for, what, all of a month or two? I should be over him by now. Especially after the things he’d said to me.
But for whatever reason, I still missed him. Still wished his name would pop up on my phone or in my inbox.
I couldn’t shake him. I had to try. But part of me—the part that believed he was a good guy deep down—didn’t want to. If I could just make him see all the good, solid, awesome things I saw in him—if I could just convince him to give us a chance—I think we could be really great together.
I think he could be the start of my happily ever after, as crazy as that sounded.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aly
One Month Later
Miami
“That one is ours?” I said, pointing to the gigantic yacht that floated serenely in the middle of the cove.
The man driving the dinghy nodded, pushing a lever beside the boat’s steering wheel. We picked up speed, heading toward the yacht. “Yes ma’am, it is. Siren, she’s named. Beautiful ship.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh, my heart leaping to my throat. Rob couldn’t be serious. He’d said we’d be sailing on his friend’s boat. I’d imagined it’d be a snazzy catamaran, maybe, or sailboat. Something beautiful and just the tiniest bit ridiculous, because that was Rob’s taste.
But the Siren was a lot ridiculous. Like, a lot a lot. It was as big as a cruise ship, with six—no, eight—stories and a whole garage-type thing that was open on the back, revealing a handful of jet skis and another dinghy like the one I was on. Its navy blue hull reflected the shimmering Caribbean Sea, nearly blinding me as we got closer.
What was it with Rob and these insane seafaring vessels of his? He was so good at this. At pulling out the stops when it mattered.
He was somewhere on that ship. He’d sent a group text earlier to what I’d assumed was the bridal party, telling us he’d arrived and to send him any requests for food or booze before we set sail for Nassau this evening.
My hair whipped in the salty wind. I tucked it behind my ears with fingers that shook. I was so nervous about seeing him again.
So freaking nervous. Was he going to be an asshole again? Would he ignore me?
I tried my best to push those thoughts from my head. This weekend was about Emily and Kit. Even if Rob was a jerk, I wasn’t going to let that ruin my best friend’s bachelorette party. I’d take my Maid of Honor duties seriously in the face of anything. A hurricane. An angry, asshole Rob. Or even a charming Rob.
The dinghy pulled up beside the Siren. It loomed above us, casting a shadow on the cobalt water. I’d been to the Caribbean once, on a super cheap cruise during spring break in college. I’d forgotten how colorful the sea was, all bright, almost neon blues, the water so clear you could see straight to the bottom.
I pinched myself—literally pinched the skin on the back of my wrist—just to make sure this was real. That this weekend was really happening.
I laughed again when the steward dropped me off at my stateroom. It was as big as a regular hotel room, with a king-sized bed and a balcony that was bigger
than my entire apartment.
How in the world was this my life right now? Pining after princes and cruising on yachts? Being friends with the future King and Queen of England definitely had its perks.
I was in the middle of changing—a silky mini dress over a black bikini—when there was a knock on my door. My stomach lurched so hard at the thought that it could be Rob that I thought I was going to be sick.
Opening the door, I flew backward when Emily tackled me in a hug.
“Oh my God you’re here!” she cried, pulling back. “And looking hot as hell, might I add.”
“Thanks.” I self-consciously slipped my finger underneath the strap of my dress. Living in London, where sixty degrees and sorta-kinda sunny constituted summer weather, I hadn’t needed another strappy dress like this. But I’d bought it anyway. Probably because I knew Rob would be seeing me in it.
“Hey.” Emily peered at me. “You okay?”
I managed a smile. “Are you kidding? I’m on a yacht in Miami for my best friend’s bachelorette party. If I’m not okay, there is something seriously wrong with me.”
Something called I’m so nervous about seeing Rob I’m going to puke.
“This is insane,” Emily said. She was beaming. “Thank you so much for organizing it.”
“Don’t thank me. Rob did pretty much everything.”
She peered at me again. “Things okay with you guys? Working together on all this, I mean?”
“Things are great,” I replied, lying through my teeth. This was Em’s weekend. She didn’t need to know how confused I was feeling, or how I’d had the best sex of my life with a guy who believed he was too garbage-y to ever be with me. How I couldn’t stop liking that guy, even though we hadn’t seen each other or spoken in weeks.
Royal Rebel: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Flings With Kings) Page 14
