Can't Buy Me Love

by Abigail Drake

  As I walked into the suite reserved by the television station, Alex was already there waiting for me, flanked by Nico on one side, and the darling of the morning news team, Dirk Deacon, on the other. We’d decided to arrive separately, to make it look like we were meeting for the very first time in front of the cameras. That had been Norah’s idea, of course. Now she hovered behind me, just out of view. We would get our photos taken by both local and national newspapers later, after the interview, but for now the prince and I were alone…or as alone as we could be with a crew of cameramen, sound techs, and miscellaneous television people in the room. In spite of the crowd, however, it felt intimate.

  Nervousness about the whole plan we’d come up with had my stomach in knots. And the world was about to watch me lie, something I’d never been naturally good at, on live TV.

  Dirk Deacon beamed at the camera. “Good morning. I’m here today with Prince Alexander of Latovia, who is visiting New York City to attend a special meeting at the United Nations. And our other guest is the woman of the hour, Ms. Chloe Burkhart, a member of the Burkhart Book dynasty.”

  Alex walked toward me slowly, his eyes on my face. He paused, staring at me like he wanted to memorize every detail, before taking my hand in his. He played it perfectly, the part of a man instantly smitten. Then he surprised me by getting down on one knee, and softly kissing the back of my hand.

  I put my hand on my chest. I didn’t have to fake the flutter of my heart. Part of it came from getting kissed by a handsome prince. The other part had probably been caused from a combination of nerves and way too much caffeine.

  When he rose, holding both my hands in his, the emotion I saw on his handsome face seemed real. “Ms. Burkhart. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  I looked up into his clear blue eyes and gave him the shy and winsome smile I’d practiced earlier with Norah. “You’re welcome, Your Highness. I’m glad I was able to help.”

  Keeping his hands on mine, he gazed down at me with a rapt expression on his face. “Please. Call me Alex.”

  The people watching our little display ate it up. Even the hardened reporter, Dirk Deacon seemed charmed. Only one person looked unimpressed, Nico, who shot me a smirk and rolled his eyes. I ignored him and focused on the prince.

  “Only if you’ll call me Chloe.”

  Alex smiled at me, the effect disarming. “Agreed.”

  He led me to my seat, a plush couch, holding my arm in order to ease me down gently, mindful of my wounded area. He didn’t do it for the cameras, he did it because he was a gentleman, a true prince charming, and I knew the people back home watching would love every minute of it.

  I didn’t have to fake the relief I experienced when I managed to sit without pulling on my stitches. Hopefully, it meant I was on the mend and would be better soon.

  Dirk waited until I was settled, then he continued. “We’re here to discuss the assassination attempt on Prince Alexander, and Ms. Burkhart’s heroic part in thwarting it, but first, I have to ask, how are you feeling Ms. Burkhart?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Much better.”

  I snuck a quick glance at Nico. He seemed more irritated than usual. Norah stood next to him, taking notes on her clipboard. She would record what I said, and also analyze what I could do differently. She should have been working for the president or something. She was that good, but she didn’t possess a great deal of motivation. A mind like Norah’s needed constant stimulation. I think she took the job at Wilson Publishing only in order to hang out with me on our lunch breaks. I had a feeling she wouldn’t last long there.

  Dirk leaned toward me, his face intense. “Can you go over the events of Monday morning?”

  I’d known this was coming. I sat up a little straighter in my chair. “Well, it was a typical Monday, which meant I was running late for work.”

  Dirk smiled, showing dimples in his cheeks nearly as deep and impressive as the cleft in his chin. “And where do you work?”

  “At Wilson Publishing. I’ve been there around three years now, since I graduated from college.”

  “I see. So you were running late to work….”

  “Yes. As always.” I gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I was nearly sprinting across the street when I bumped into someone, spilling my coffee. That’s when I saw it.”

  “Saw what?”

  “The gun.” I lowered my voice for dramatic effect. “It was pointed at the back of the man walking across the street in front of me. The prince. Of course, I didn’t know it was him at the time.”

  “What did you do?”

  I shook my head in disbelief, like I was unable to comprehend it myself. “I knocked him down.” I bit my lip. “Sorry about getting coffee all over you. I didn’t think to put it down beforehand.”

  “You’re forgiven,” said Alex with a smile. “And I think I owe you a soy latte. I got a taste of it when you threw it at me. It was quite good.”

  I raised a finger. “No, the soy latte was for my boss. I drink my coffee black. You owe me one of those.”

  “I owe you a great deal more than coffee, Chloe,” he said, his eyes on my face.

  We stared at each other a long moment before Dirk cleared his throat. “So tell me, Ms. Burkhart, how did it feel to save this man’s life?”

  I glanced at Alex, sitting on the couch right next to me. “The prince is someone important, and not only because of his title. He helps people all over the world. He builds libraries and schools for children. Isn’t that wonderful?” I’d gone off script, but I hadn’t known when Norah and I practiced I would be plugging for the prince’s foundation.

  Dirk stared at me intently. The cleft on his chin was even more impressive in person. “You didn’t know it was Prince Alexander. To you, he was another random man in a suit crossing the street on a busy Monday morning. Why did you do it, Ms. Burkhart? I’m dying to know.”

  I nibbled on my lip, giving Alex another shy look from under the safety of my long, dark lashes. “What is this world coming to if people stop helping each other? I did it for one reason, and one reason alone. Because I couldn’t have lived with myself, if I hadn’t.”

  Dirk sat back him his chair, obviously taken aback by my response. Even I felt a little taken aback. And Nico, still standing in the wings, seemed confused. He stared at me, his dark eyes inscrutable. Alex was easier to read. He shook his head, obviously affected by my words.

  “Ms. Burkhart. Whatever can I ever do to repay you?”

  “Nothing,” I said, enjoying the little rush I got at the look of honest admiration and respect I saw in his eyes. “Buy me that coffee and we’ll call it even.”

  He and Dirk both laughed, as did several of the people working behind the cameras. Norah beamed, so I knew I’d done well. Nico was the only person who hadn’t seemed impressed. He eyed me almost suspiciously, his dark brows drawn together in a frown.

  Deceiving the entire country? Easy. Deceiving Nico Mercia? Mission impossible.

  As we walked outside to greet the newspaper reporters already assembled, Alex offered me his arm. “Well done, Chloe,” he said softly. “You’re a natural.”

  We smiled for the cameras, and answered a few brief questions from the reporters. Alex insisted we keep it short, saying I had to rest. It was a good thing he did. I barely made it back to the lobby of my building before I felt ready to collapse. Alex had been carted away in a limo, the flag of Latovia fluttering in the breeze. Nico had stayed with me, insisting he accompany me to my apartment. Norah came as well. I’d been too tired to protest. As he took my arm and guided me to the elevator, he began asking me more questions.

  “Tell me again, Ms. Burkhart, how exactly did you see the gun?”

  I looked at him in surprise. “You heard me tell Dirk Deacon all about it. The entire country knows the story now.”

  “I would like to hear it again. From the moment you left your house that morning.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked and he nodded. Norah waite
d, probably wondering why Nico needed this recap. I let out a long sigh. “Well, I left the house on time that morning, which was a small miracle.”

  “You said you were running late.”

  “I was running late, but I left on time. I got distracted by a pair of shoes in a shop window. They were so beautiful. I stopped to admire them, just for a second, but it meant I was behind when I reached the coffee shop.”

  “Why didn’t you skip it?”

  “Oh, no. It’s a mandatory stop. I need caffeine to function, and if I don’t get my boss coffee, she’s impossible to deal with for the rest of the day. Trust me.”

  His lips twitched. “You mentioned something about her right after you’d been shot. The meanest boss in the world?”

  “Oh, yes. Ask Norah. She knows.”

  “She’s Satan’s mistress,” chimed in Norah. “Pure evil. She makes poor Chloe’s life into a living nightmare, and, on top of everything else…”

  I sent her a silencing look, but Nico caught Norah’s comment. “Everything else?”

  I twisted my hands together, wishing the elevator would come a little faster. “My parents were in a car accident a few years ago. My mother…” To my surprise, a huge lump formed in my throat. I hadn’t cried over her since the funeral. I blinked away the tears and continued. “She died.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded sincere, dang it, and tears flooded my eyes again. Not cool.

  I took a deep breath through my nose, calming myself down. “So I was late, rushing to work, saw the gun, jumped on the prince, got shot in the bum. End of story.”

  “He was behind you. How did you see the gun?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Judging by the police report after they recreated the scene of the crime, the gunman stood at least ten feet behind you. How is it even possible you saw his gun? Do you have eyes in the back of your head, or some magical power we know nothing about?”

  I blinked, not sure how to answer, and decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Someone jostled me from behind as I stepped onto the street. It made me spill coffee onto my coat. It was white cashmere, not easy to clean, and I didn’t have time to go home and change it. I turned, planning to give the person who bumped into me a piece of my mind, and that’s when I saw it.”

  “But you didn’t see who was carrying it?”

  I blew out a breath. “No. It happened so fast. I don’t think I ever saw the man, or his face. Only the gun.”

  “What did it look like?” I stared at him, confused. He growled a bit in frustration. “The gun. What type of gun was it, Ms. Burkhart?”

  We were back to Ms. Burkhart again? Interesting. “Well, Mr. Mercia, it was a black gun.”

  “A black gun?” he asked. “Are you serious? That’s all you can give me?”

  “Yes,” I said, as the elevator finally arrived at the ground floor with a gasp and a groan.

  “But I don’t understand….” began Nico.

  Norah came to my rescue, ushering me into the elevator. “Can’t you see she’s exhausted? Stop the interrogation now. Please. For goodness sake, Nico, she can barely stand.”

  It was true. I did feel a bit vertically challenged at the moment. Nico watched me as I wobbled slightly on my feet, ready to collapse. When he lifted me into his strong arms, I didn’t protest. Instead I leaned my head against his shoulder and looped my arms around his neck, once again oddly comforted by his strength. Even though he didn’t believe my story, I trusted him. I knew instinctively he’d protect me against anything or anyone who wanted to do me harm.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You’ve had a taxing day. I shouldn’t have pressed you. But we will have to talk eventually, Chloe. I have questions, and I need answers.”

  I let out a yawn. “I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be a blast. Make sure you bring handcuffs. No good torture session is complete without them.”

  Norah chuckled, but Nico did not look amused. He carried me to the door of my apartment and put me down gently onto my feet. He didn’t ask to come in. He stared down at me for a long moment, his hands still on my arms and face close to mine.

  He smelled delicious, a combination of the expensive wool from his suit, the subtle hint of his cologne, and a scent purely his own. Something mysterious and manly which made my knees go weak. I wanted to lean a bit closer just to inhale him, but I held myself back.

  As I stared at him, his eyes darkened, growing even more alluring in the dim light of the hallway. Maybe he wasn’t completely unaffected by me either. Was it a touch of lust I saw gleaming in the depths of his brown eyes, or was I imagining things?

  He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I am not going to torture you. Much. And I only bring out the handcuffs for special occasions.” His voice was deeper than usual, and had a raspy huskiness that made my toes curl. Before I could figure out what the heck was up with my responses to Nico Mercia, he nodded to the guard who stood by my door and walked away.

  I watched him go. “Did he make a joke?”

  Norah nodded. “I think he did.”

  “Did it have a vaguely sexual undertone, or did I take one too many painkillers today?”

  “Oh, yes. It most certainly did. Maybe you should have chosen something other than handcuffs to make your point, Chloe. Thumbscrews. The rack. Impalement. Although, impalement sounds kind of sexual as well.”

  As I stepped into my apartment with Norah and shut the door firmly behind me, I had to wonder again if I’d gotten myself into something I wasn’t prepared to handle. Both the mild zing of attraction I felt for the prince, and the strong visceral reaction I had to Nico were unexpected and unwelcome. They were difficulties I didn’t need, and, even if both men were incredibly delectable, they were complications I didn’t want as well.

  ~

  The next few days progressed with a series of television interviews and guest appearances. My body healed, I got my stitches out, and I started to feel more like myself, although different. I kept the winsome smile on my face, and blushed when someone called me a hero or praised my actions, but the redness in my cheeks did not come from modesty or shyness. It came from shame. A deep, gut wrenching shame. No matter how good or honorable my reason might be for doing this, it was still wrong. Absolutely and incredibly wrong.

  The prince bought me the cup of black coffee he owed me, grinning at the cameras as he handed it to me. “And here it is,” he said gallantly. “Is there anything else you require? A scone perhaps?”

  “Nope. We’re even,” I said, lifting my cup, and the crowd assembled outside the coffee shop cheered.

  The barista who’d served me the day of the shooting clapped louder than anyone, tears in her eyes. As we were about to get into the car, she touched my arm. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m pregnant. If it’s a little girl, I’m naming her after you.”

  I slipped into the waiting limo, stunned. She was naming her child after me? A wave of nausea came over me so strong I had to close my eyes. What if the truth came out and she found out I wasn’t a hero, but a liar? How could I let her name her baby after me? It wasn’t right.

  Nico climbed into the seat next to me. The prince had a meeting to attend, so Nico was in charge of getting me home safely. Lucky me. He gave me an odd look as we pulled into traffic.

  “Another successful appearance by the media sensation, Chloe Burkhart, and yet you look…distraught. Care to explain?”

  I shook my head. “It brought up memories of that day. Seeing the shop, the girl who served me coffee ….” The girl who planned to name her first-born child after the biggest liar in New York City. I let out a tremulous breath. “It’s disconcerting.”

  “It must be hard for you.” His dark eyes held something in them which may have been compassion, but I could have been mistaken. His next question threw me off guard. “What color coat did he have on?”

  I blinked in surprise. “Who?”

  “The man who shot the prince.”


  I hugged my arms around my body tightly, my gaze going to the window. “I told you. I can’t remember.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough. The police have video taken by street cameras the day of the shooting. I plan to pick them up right after I drop you off.”

  The nausea got worse. As soon as the limo pulled up in front of my building, I jumped out of the car, not waiting for Nico or the driver to open the door for me, and rushed into the lobby. Nico followed close at my heels.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, grabbing my arm.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to control my heaving stomach as I jammed my finger into the elevator button. I needed to get into my apartment now. I did not want to puke in the lobby.

  “Pushing it over and over again won’t make it go any faster.”

  Nico leaned against the wall near the elevator door, looking both incredibly sexy and incredibly lethal at the same time. Maybe the lethal part made him even sexier. I couldn’t be certain. But he was definitely hot. Even in my about-to-puke state, I could appreciate his hotness, and it made me even more determined not to be ill in front of him.

  “Sarcasm. Not appreciated.”

  I could no long form complete sentences. It was that bad.

  He continued, oblivious to my distress. “Sarcasm? I consider it a factual statement. Do you know what else is a factual statement?” He paused, studying my face, his brow furrowed. “Your story doesn’t add up. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What part of it doesn’t make sense? The part where I saved the prince, or the part where I got shot? Because both of those are pretty factual statements, too.”

  “Maybe things are not what they seem.”

  “Maybe you’re looking to blame someone because you didn’t do your job.”

  As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. His eyes grew cold and hard, like two pieces of black onyx. Oh, brother. What had I done? The last thing I needed was to make an enemy of Nico Mercia. I turned away from him, willing the elevator to move faster. He leaned close, so close I felt the warmth of his breath as he whispered in my ear.