“Who’s that?”
Nana looked at me skeptically. “The actress?”
“Yes.”
“Tamara Callahan,” she said.
I knew it. My heart fluttered and a shot of adrenaline kicked me in the head. The kettle boiled but I ignored it, entranced by the action on screen.
“Tell me more about this show,” I said.
Nana chuckled. “Oh, now you want to talk about my show.”
“Nana. Please.”
“It’s called Princess of Nowhere,” she told me. “It’s set just after the dissolution of the Austrian nobility in 1919, and Miss Callahan plays an Austrian princess raised here who finds herself suddenly a commoner. They’re filming the second season now if I’m not mistaken.”
That made sense why Tamara would be in the country. I couldn’t believe my stroke of luck.
“Nana,” I said, kissing her on the top of the head. “You are the sun to my sky.”
She grunted. “Sure.”
I whistled to get Hank’s attention. “Come on, Hank.”
He trotted after me, keeping pace as I sped down the hall toward the stairs, then up to my apartment. My head was spinning at the realization that there was a way for me to see Kat again.
Even if she was called Tamara in real life, she would always be Kat to me. And now I knew how to find her.
I rounded a corner and spotted Edward ahead of me. I had only a second to consider turning around and taking another route to my apartment before he spotted me.
“Alex!” he said, striding toward me. “I came to look for you but you weren’t in.”
For once, I had a good reason. “I was having tea with Nana downstairs,” I said, even though in all the excitement I’d forgotten to make the tea.
Edward adjusted his shirt cuffs when he reached me, something he did when he had to have an uncomfortable conversation. Given the fact that Edward hadn’t relaxed since he first learned to stand, it was a wonder he wasn’t constantly adjusting his cuffs.
“Can this wait, Edward?” I asked. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I thought you were just having tea with Nana?”
“Well, yes, but I’ve got something to do now.”
“What is it?” Suspicion shadowed his face.
It pissed me off. I could understand why Edward had little to no faith in me, but it still rankled every time he showed it.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “None of your business.”
He nearly fought me on it, but he must’ve wanted me in a good mood for whatever he was about to say. He adopted a tight smile.
“Whatever floats your boat, as they say.”
The idiom sounded strange coming from him.
He continued. “I just wanted to come by and have a chat with you about the visit from Svetlana Nyberg next week.”
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked.
The cuff-fiddling increased in ferocity. “I suppose it was more of a reminder than anything else. I’d like to ensure your presence.”
It wasn’t princely to indulge in an eye roll, but I nearly did.
“I suppose it would be rather difficult to marry me off to the Swedish princess if I wasn’t there for her to inspect the goods,” I quipped.
“Don’t be so crass,” Edward complained. “It would be a fine match, but nobody’s marrying anybody off to anybody.”
“All the same, dear brother, the veil you’ve drawn over the matchmaking attempt is rather thin.” I sighed. “I’ll be there, Eddie. Don’t you worry. I’m not marrying the girl though, especially since she’s royalty. Or have you conveniently forgotten that I have no desire to marry at my level?”
His eye twitched. “I have not forgotten, but I admit I still don’t understand.”
“You may never. But that’s your problem, not mine.” I smiled. “Anything else?”
Edward shook his head. “Not anything pressing. I am having breakfast with Father this morning though, if you care to join.”
I chuckled. “I do not. And I don’t think Father would appreciate me being there either. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.”
I hadn’t meant to bring up such a contentious issue so casually, especially when I had other places to be, but it slipped out. To avoid listening to another of Edward’s boring sermons about royal responsibility and the like, I interrupted him with a question of my own.
“Have you had time to look over that proposal I sent you?” I asked.
Edward, caught between wanting to defend my father and knowing it was ultimately useless, twiddled his cufflinks and accepted my change in topic.
“Not yet. I haven’t had time.”
“Don’t leave it too long, will you?” I said, genuinely disappointed.
Edward nodded. “I won’t.”
“Right. Well, I’m off.” I patted my leg and Hank and I started off again toward my apartment. I heard Edward’s footsteps heading in the other direction.
Once in my apartment, I wished I’d thought to make that cup of tea. I didn’t know who to call first, or if there was anybody I could call. All I knew was I had to do whatever I could to find Tamara without the press catching wind of it.
I had one thing on my side—I was a prince, and nobody ever told me no.
Chapter 6
Tamara
“Tamara, they’re ready for you,” Gina, one of the set assistants, called into my trailer.
I stared into the mirror one last time as my makeup artist Trish finished the last few dabs of powder on my cheeks. I looked beautiful.
I rose and headed to the costume trailer. The troublesome piece of metal I’d been carrying around for two days might as well have been an anvil in my pocket. Every time I started to feel calm, like everything was okay, I felt it there and remembered that I’d stolen the ring from a prince I had raunchy sex with and I was jumpy all over again. I got up extra early this morning to add another two miles to my morning run, hoping that would syphon out some of my anxiety, but even that didn’t help.
What could I do? Mail it? Drop it off on the front step of the palace? Train a pigeon to deliver it through the prince’s window?
The girls in the costume trailer fitted me in a luxurious gown, and by the time I got on set I looked the part of a princess to a tee.
I’d been looking forward to this scene since I first got the script. My character, Amelia, just learned that her aunt and uncle, who have been missing for years, were killed in a Bolshevik uprising. They were the last members of her family, of her dynasty, and now she feels completely alone. She goes to the attic and takes one of her old ball gowns out of storage, donning it before dancing around the room, crying for everything she’s lost. We just finished shooting the lead up, and now was time for the main scene—the heart-wrenching goodbye waltz to the world she used to know.
One of the sets had been converted into the attic and after costuming I found my way there, where the director was waiting. And so was my ex, Michael Redding.
That was the part of the scene I looked forward to least. Amelia is interrupted by her working-class love interest, played by Michael, who then comforts her in her time of need. For all his faults, Michael was an exceptional actor, and I knew we’d do well. I just wished it didn’t have to be him.
Michael wasn’t classically good looking, per se, but there was a reason he had legions of fangirls following his every move on social media. Though his lips were just a little too thin and his brow a little too severe, his tall frame and piercing muddy brown eyes easily won over everyone in his path. Me included.
The director, Yesha, greeted me with a smile. “Tamara, lovely. You look perfect. We’re all ready to go, so take your mark.”
My thick skirts whispered across the creaking floorboards. In the corner of the room was a distressed steamer trunk and a full-length mirror, and I made my way over to them.
I took a few deep breaths.
Nobody was watching me. No Yesha.
No Michael. Just me and Amelia. It was what I told myself every time the camera rolled, and it worked every time. Once I was settled in character, I pretended the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Okay, ready?” Yesha called.
I nodded.
And we began.
I’d barely made it through the first minute when I heard the first tittering among the spectators. Yesha didn’t call cut straightaway so I didn’t dare look at the crew to see what the deal was. The whispers grew into outright chatter and Yesha, normally the first to start yelling when things weren’t going her way, sounded friendly when she called for us to cut.
I immediately looked toward the camera. The disturbance wasn’t hard to find.
My heart dropped like a stone and I let out a gasp.
Prince Alexander, brilliantly handsome in a black tailored suit and just a little bit of mess in his hair, grinned at me. He was standing near Yesha, and turned to her briefly.
They exchanged a few words, then Yesha said, “Okay, everyone. We’re going to take a short break. Back in fifteen.”
Nobody dispersed. Everyone was much too interested in the appearance of a prince on set. Including Michael. They all gawked as Alexander approached me.
Was I about to be arrested? Right here? Or did he just want to embarrass me and teach me a lesson?
My breaths came short and fast but I tried to appear as calm as possible. It wasn’t easy. The pounds of fabric hanging from my shoulders suddenly weighed as much as a boulder and I felt rooted to the spot.
Prince Alexander stopped close enough that I could hear when he spoke quietly. “Is there somewhere private we could talk?”
He was smiling. That had to be a good sign, right?
“My trailer,” I managed to say. “Follow me.”
I strode for the exit, not caring whether he followed me or not. At this point I just needed some air.
I navigated through the trailers on the lot until I found my own, then squished my skirts through the narrow doorway and walked to the couch at the far end, though I didn’t sit. I rustled through the clothes piled on top until I found what I needed.
Alexander followed, closing the door behind him. He seemed to take up every bit of the limited space, the crown of his head nearly touching the roof.
Before he could open his mouth, I rushed forward with the ring outstretched and bent low in a formal bow. “I’m so sorry, your highness. I didn’t mean to take it.”
Alexander didn’t take the ring, and after an awkward moment of staring at the floor I straightened cautiously. His lips were quirked in an adorable half smile, eyes shining.
“Perhaps I should be calling you ‘your highness’,” he commented, giving me a once over.
I had to say, there were worse times for a one night stand to pop in unexpectedly than when dolled up in full princess glamor. I smiled tightly and forced the ring further under his nose.
Alexander plucked it from my fingers, smile never faltering. “Is this you telling me you want a divorce?”
My cheeks heated. “I just…I don’t know. I thought that’s what you came here for.”
He rolled it between his fingers, staring at me, then dropped the ring in his pocket. “If I personally sought out every person who made off with a trinket of mine, that’s all I would have time to do.”
“If you’re not here for the ring, what are you here for?” I asked. “Do you want me to sign a non-disclosure agreement or something?”
Alexander chuckled and cocked his head, looking down at me like I was a tasty treat. The realization blasted me like an open flame—he was here for me.
“You left before I got a chance to say goodbye,” he said. “Or get your real name, no less your phone number.”
I stepped around him, feigning nonchalance as I rooted around in the mini-fridge for a bottle of water. Inside I was a wobbly mess but I couldn’t let him see it.
“Looks like you found me anyway,” I said. “You must be great at Hide and Seek.”
Alexander walked around me, catching my gaze once more. My heart flopped.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “What are you doing tonight?”
Wait. Was Prince Alexander asking me out?
If I had a diary, this would be a major diary moment. Only a few years before I was a struggling college kid with a love of improv and acting, who dreamed of making it big one day. Now I was being asked out by one of the most wealthy and influential men in the country. Not my country, but still.
The next thought that crossed my mind put a screeching halt to every fantasy that flitted at the edges of my consciousness. If I went out with a prince, the press would eat me alive.
“I’m busy,” I managed to say.
“Until when?”
“Until forever.”
It was hard to believe that I felt so awkward and uncomfortable around a man who’d been my husband for a night, who I’d been so at ease with, had so much fun with. Then again, we were different people before.
Alexander wasn’t fazed. He leaned a little closer, until I could make out the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Come on, Kitty Kat. I know you’ve been thinking about it too.” His gaze slid down the length of me—slowly, like he was taking in every inch. “Remember how hot it was, you and me in that secluded, dark room? Remember how you nearly came on my fingers?”
My breath caught and I squeezed the water bottle enough to send a little water dribbling over my hand. Alexander smirked.
“Of course you remember. You probably play it back in your head over and over, just like I do.” He cupped my chin in his hand, thumb stroking my bottom lip. For a moment, I forgot to breathe. My core blazed to life and my stomach turned in on itself. Vivid scenes of our encounter flashed through my mind.
Would it really hurt to go out with him? My body begged me to give in, to let him take me. Own me. Whatever he wanted.
“Plus,” Alexander released my chin, standing to his full height. “It would be good for your career to be seen out with me. Win-win.”
That sentence was like a bucket of cold water to the face. Thinking clearly now, I stepped out of his reach and crossed my arms haughtily.
“No,” I said. “I know your reputation, and believe me when I say I’m not interested in adding my name to the list of your cast-offs. Besides my career’s doing just fine on its own.”
Genuine surprise splashed across his face. I supposed princes didn’t get turned down very often. I felt powerful, all of a sudden, and it spurred me on. Any nervousness I’d had before evaporated into nothing.
“I want you to leave my trailer.” I pointed to the door to hammer my point in. “Now that you’ve got your ring back, there’s no reason for you to hang around.”
Alexander studied me for a moment, face impassive, and then gave a brief nod. He turned and walked out without another word.
I sagged onto the couch, chugging back a few mouthfuls of water.
I was in-between wanting to tell everyone and anyone what just happened and not wanting to tell a soul, not even my sister. It felt like if nobody else knew, it didn’t happen, and I couldn’t tell whether it was better to remember or to try to forget the day I rejected the prince of one of the oldest ruling families in Europe.
Someone rapped on my door and I jumped, but it was only Gina letting me know that I was due back on set in five minutes.
I put a cap on my water bottle and took a deep breath, exiting my trailer. There were no princes loitering around outside, thankfully, though Michael was sitting on the steps outside his trailer. He rose when he saw me.
“Hey,” he said. “What was that about?”
“None of your business.” I tried to walk past him, but Michael grabbed my arm. His grip was gentle, but I didn’t appreciate it. He had a bad habit of finding every reason on earth to get defensive, and I figured I was in for it.
“I meant to tell you this earlier,” he said. “You look beautiful. The dress...” He gave me a on
ce-over, smiling. “Amazing.”
Today was turning out to be an odd day. Propositioned by a prince, hit on by an ex... What was next?
“Uh, thanks.” I pulled my arm free. “We’ve got to get back to the set.”
“Let’s walk together,” he said.
And, since I had no reason to object, we did.
Chapter 7
Alexander
The dinner conversation was quiet enough that I found it easy to tune out. Polite conversation was never my thing, though Edward and my father understandably excelled in it. Most of the time I would try to participate, but tonight my mind was on other things.
Specifically, the fact that Tamara Callahan had rejected me.
I had never been rejected before. The whole way through the first course I tried to remember a time when I had, even if it was only in primary school, but nothing came to mind. By the time I made it to the roast beef, I was well and truly perplexed.
I tore off a hunk of meat and stole a surreptitious glance at my father, who was talking to my sister Victoria and not looking in my direction. I dropped the beef under the table and a wet smacking sound assured me that Hank devoured it instantly.
“You looked over at your father before you did that,” said Svetlana from beside me. I’d completely forgotten she was there. “I assume he doesn’t approve?”
I turned to look at her. “It’s not exactly polite, is it?” I replied. “I’ve tried reasoning with him that kings have been feeding the dogs at the table for hundreds of years, but he won’t have it.”
She laughed, a light tinkling sound. I understood why Edward thought we’d be a good match. Svetlana was pretty, with long blonde hair, creamy skin, and intelligent blue eyes. She was tall and willowy, and glided rather than walked. And, of course, she was wealthy and well-connected. But had meeting her changed my opinion of a royal marriage?
Not even close.
“My father won’t even let me have a dog,” she said. “He’s very strict about those sorts of things.”
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