A Royal Disaster

by Jennifer Bonds

  The overhead bell rang and Elena looked up from her post behind the counter. She was even lovelier than he remembered, all soft curves and confidence, her dark brown hair pinned up with loose tendrils framing her face. Her gaze raked over them and she frowned, the tiny gesture speaking volumes. Not quite the reception he’d hoped for, but he couldn’t fault her, given the social media shitstorm.

  She’d be well within her rights to throw him out on his arse.

  It’s what he’d have done in her position. The media had been brutal—unfairly so—because of him, and she had every right to be angry, which was why he hoped to make amends. If only she’d give him a chance.

  “Come back to finish me off?” she asked, cocking a hip in silent challenge. Her tone was all snark, but it was the sexy curve of her lips that caught his attention.

  “I can assure you, I’ve never left a woman wanting,” he said, instinctively flashing a wicked grin. Fin rolled his eyes and turned to inspect the display in the front window, no doubt scanning the sidewalk outside for paparazzi.

  Elena’s frown deepened, and she gave him a look that suggested she highly doubted the truth of his words. The unspoken insult should’ve stung, but it only set his pulse thrumming. “You’re looking less purple today.”

  “It only took ten showers,” he returned mildly. In truth, it had taken only one, but there was something about Elena that made him want to needle her just a bit. “It’s a wonder I didn’t shrivel up like a prune.”

  “Miss Murphy.” Fin darted forward, possibly to prevent Liam from saying something else untoward. “His Royal Highness, Prince William, Prince of Valeria, offers an apology for the trouble that’s befallen you recently.”

  Elena snorted and crossed her arms. “The trouble that’s befallen me? You mean the trouble he brought to my door by illegally trespassing on my property with his fan club in tow?” Fin stood frozen, as if unsure how to respond to such blatant disregard for royal protocol. Elena lifted a brow and fixed her steely gaze on Liam. “I suppose it would be too much to expect His Royal Highness to make his own apologies.”

  Liam chuckled. Whatever the woman lacked in stature, she more than made up for in spirit. It was a quality he rather admired. “I am sorry. For all of it,” he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”

  “And you’re here because?”

  How to put this delicately? The delivery would be everything.

  Fin stepped forward again, ever the diligent assistant, determined to protect Liam from his own impulses. “Miss Murphy, before we continue. I need to verify we are alone in the shop so His Royal Highness might speak freely. Is there anyone else here we should know about?”

  “Just Jinx.”

  “The cat,” Liam supplied, sidestepping his friend. “Really, Fin. If Elena’s going to be my girlfriend, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”

  So much for a tactful delivery.

  “Excuse me?” Elena’s attention shifted from Liam to Fin and back again, dark eyes wide in disbelief. “I must’ve misheard, because I thought you said girlfriend.” She paused, her cheeks flushing. “Which is ridiculous. Obviously.”

  “What’s ridiculous is the fact that one of your neighbors sold their security camera footage to the tabloids.”

  “I wondered about that.” Elena dropped onto a stool, resignation coating her words. “Welcome to New York.”

  Liam shrugged. This sort of thing happened all the time; there was no point belaboring it. “What’s done is done.”

  “Easy for you to say. My business is hemorrhaging as a result of the bad press, and my reputation is trashed.” Elena tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sucked in a deep breath, her chest heaving. It was the first crack he’d seen in her armor and, though she bore it bravely, the knowledge that he was the cause rested in his gut like a stone. He had to make this right. “Have you seen what they’re calling me online?”

  “Mad Eyes Murphy.” Liam grinned, though in truth he wanted to throttle the bloody bastards. “What do you expect from the Harry Potter generation? It does have a certain ring to it.”

  Elena narrowed her eyes. “Remind me again why I shouldn’t just throw you out now?”

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said, pulling out a seat at one of the wooden tables and gesturing for her to join him. Fin shot him a warning look and took one of the empty chairs for himself. Elena hesitated, chewing her full bottom lip, but eventually slipped off her stool and rounded the counter to join them at the worktable. Once she was seated, Liam continued. “As I said, I feel terrible about the bad press you and your shop are getting as a result of my…poor judgment.”

  Elena grumbled something that sounded like trespassing, but he pressed on.

  No point arguing semantics.

  “I’m in town for another month. During that time, I propose we go on a few dates to show the world there are no hard feelings and provide a more palatable narrative than the one that’s currently circulating online.”

  “That’s ridiculous. People aren’t going to forget how much they hate me because they think we’re dating.”

  “You’d be surprised what people are willing to overlook when they’ve got good news to distract them.” Liam leaned back and folded his hands on the table. He hadn’t expected her to refuse the offer outright. Hell, he thought she’d jump at it. “My people are experts at public relations. I assure you they can make it happen.”

  Elena rolled her eyes. “We could go on a hundred dates and no one would believe I’m your girlfriend.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m me and you’re you!” she said, gesturing between them as if to highlight their differences.

  But that was exactly why this would work. The Valerian people expected him to date a woman of nobility—someone cool, cultured, and politically motivated—and she was completely unexpected.

  “Besides,” she went on, “I’ve sworn off dating. Men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

  Liam paused, curiosity piqued. Why had Elena sworn off dating? She was young, attractive, and independent. A woman like her should have plenty of sound prospects. So, what? A bad breakup or maybe— He shook himself. The why didn’t matter. This was a business transaction, nothing more.

  “Yes, well, that’s the beauty of this charade. It requires only that you pretend to fall in love with me. It doesn’t require actual feelings.”

  She seemed to consider this for a moment before abruptly turning to Fin. “Can’t you just have your people issue a statement saying we’ve kissed and made up?”

  Liam’s lips quirked and he felt his restraint slipping. “Would you like to kiss and make up, Elena?”

  A deep flush spread across her chest, drawing his eye to the hint of cleavage that peeked out of her dungarees. What else was she hiding under that shapeless denim? The possibilities made his cock stir with interest.

  “I’m sure if your PR people make a statement, they can smooth this whole thing over,” she said, ignoring his question. “You were trespassing on my property, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  As if he could possibly forget, when she insisted on reminding him every five seconds. But he knew better than to argue that point. “It wouldn’t be enough.”

  “He’s right,” Fin said. “The paps are vultures. They like to see people suffer and damn the consequences.”

  Liam turned to his friend, surprised at the show of support. Fin had spent the entire car ride over reminding Liam that if he fucked this up, Their Majesties would blame him.

  “Trust me,” Liam said, reaching across the table to place his hand over Elena’s. A spark of electricity passed between them, and he wondered if she’d felt it, too. “We go on a few dates, smile for the camera, and make doe eyes at each other. The media will gobble it up.” He
paused, searching for the right motivation to close the deal. “With the right press, your studio could be booked through next year.” Elena’s dark eyes lit up, but she remained silent, as if mulling over his words. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer,” he continued, pressing the advantage. “Let me help fix this before I return to Valeria.”

  After a long pause, Elena asked, “Why are you doing this? I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you have more important things to worry about than my reputation.”

  “Is it so hard to believe I’m a nice guy and that I feel terrible about your reputation being dragged through the mud? It’s the least I can do after all the trouble I’ve caused you.” He flashed her a dimpled smile, ignoring the guilt that gnawed at his gut. There was more to it, but he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell anyone. There was too much at stake, and if word got back to the king and queen of his machinations, there’d be hell to pay. This way, if she let something slip, even by accident, the worst case scenario was he looked like a white knight coming to her aid, not a bastard trying to shirk his royal duties. “Besides, it would be nice to have a true New Yorker show me around while I’m in town.”

  Liam studied his prospective fake girlfriend. This was the last thing he’d expected when he climbed through the gate in the alley, but he couldn’t deny the situation appealed to him. Elena wasn’t like most of the women he met. She was an unpredictable combination of sweet and snarky, and she didn’t seem inclined to tolerate his bullshit. There was no doubt she’d keep him on his toes in the coming weeks, but he could handle it.

  The question was, could she?

  …

  Elena stared at the prince, considering his offer. It was absurd. Things like this only happened in the movies. It would never work. It couldn’t…could it?

  The prince seems to think so.

  No. She slammed the door on that line of thinking.

  It didn’t matter what he thought. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t even be in this mess.

  Which was irrelevant, since she couldn’t very well turn back the clock. She’d painted the prince and this was her punishment. She was going to be dragged online until she went out of business…or until she did something about it.

  But fake dating a prince? That hardly seemed like a solution.

  Certainly not a practical one.

  Then again, what did she have to lose?

  Only everything.

  Which was also what she stood to gain if this bananapants idea worked. EVA had never been booked out months in advance—they were always scraping by—but if Liam could deliver the kind of positive press he’d described? It would be a game changer.

  And, really, how hard could it be to pretend she was in love with the handsome royal?

  “All right,” she said, determination warming her chest. “I’ll do it.”

  Liam’s blue eyes sparked with triumph and he grinned, clearly pleased she’d agreed to this ridiculous farce.

  She wasn’t sure which one of them it said more about that they were willing to fake a relationship in front of the whole world, and she didn’t care to find out.

  “Splendid,” Fin said, pulling a folder from his bag. “We’ll just need you to sign this NDA—that’s a nondisclosure agreement—stating you won’t ever speak to the press or anyone else about your relationship with Liam.” Elena opened her mouth to protest, and Fin held up a hand. “All press releases will go through me, so all you have to do is smile for the camera and have fun.”

  She stared at the papers, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Did she need a lawyer to look this over before she signed? She certainly couldn’t afford one, but for all she knew of legalese, they could be asking for her firstborn.

  Or, worse yet, Jinx.

  “It’s standard procedure when entering into a relationship with a member of the royal family,” Liam said, apparently sensing her hesitation.

  Lena flipped the pages of the contract. “There’s nothing standard about thirty pages of gibberish.”

  “Touché.” He flashed a disarming smile. “The crown prefers to keep its affairs private. I’m sure you understand.”

  Unfortunately, she did.

  Yesterday’s headlines had made it crystal clear.

  Fin pulled a pen from the breast pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. The prince watched her carefully as she skimmed the first page, the words blurring before her eyes.

  Why was she hesitating? If signing the NDA was what it took to get her out of this mess, she had to do it.

  She gave a brisk nod and signed the agreement with a flourish. When she looked up, Liam was studying her, surprise etched on his face. Which made zero sense. If he hadn’t expected her to sign, why had he come? Had he been hoping she’d say no? Heat flooded her cheeks at the possibility, but she lifted her chin and forced a smile. “I guess we’re officially dating.”

  “Fake dating,” Liam corrected as she slid the paperwork toward Fin.

  “Yes, well, don’t expect me to make it too easy for you,” she said as Fin tucked the papers into his bag. “It seems to me Your Royal Highness is far too accustomed to getting everything you want. Fake relationship or not, it’d do your ego some good to work for it.”

  “Duly noted.”

  She smiled up at him sweetly. “I’ll just be over here waiting for you to ask me on a proper date.”

  Chapter Four

  Lena stared at herself in the mirror, stomach churning with nervous energy. What had she been thinking? Dinner with… What had Fin called him? Oh, right. His Royal Highness, Prince of Valeria. She laughed, the sound coming in short awkward bursts, like the hum of the kiln when it was first fired up.

  This plan has disaster written all over it.

  Liam was royal and poised and sexy as hell. Pretty much her opposite in every way that counted, according to the internet. She was going to make a complete fool of herself. After all, that was her MO. And this time, she’d be doing it in the public eye, because if she’d learned anything these last two days, it was that the world was always watching when it came to the Valerian heir. And the world? Not so forgiving.

  Maybe she could cancel. It wasn’t too late to back out, was it? After all, he was a freaking prince. He could find another dinner date, couldn’t he?

  Her phone vibrated on the top of the dresser, reminding her exactly why she’d agreed to this ludicrous plan. Today alone she’d been tagged in hundreds of “Mad Eyes Murphy” memes, trolled about her artwork, and received seventeen one-star reviews on Yelp—from reviewers she was certain had never stepped foot in the studio. Seventeen.

  If there was any chance this fake dating scheme could work, she had to at least try.

  And she was trying. She was wearing heels, for fuck’s sake. And a dress. She would’ve been far more comfortable in leggings or something with a stretchy waistband, but she’d pulled out all the stops, stuffing herself into the only little black dress she owned. She sighed and smoothed the fabric over her hips. She hadn’t worn the dress in three years—not since her college graduation—and she’d gained a few pounds. No matter. She’d rock the hell out of her curves…as long as she didn’t trip over her own two feet.

  She practiced walking from one side of the room to the other, her heels beating a staccato rhythm on the hardwood floors. She was just starting to get the hang of it when Nia poked her head in, causing her to roll her ankle and stumble onto the bed.

  Nia slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Your date has arrived, milady.”

  “Very funny,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She straightened and smoothed her skirt again. The damnable thing inched up every time she so much as breathed. Why did women’s clothing have to be so binding? Male designers, that’s why. The same reason women got screwed out of pockets on the regular. Just two more reasons she loved her overalls, which were draped over the
back of a chair by the window. She eyed them longingly.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Nia warned, moving to position her body between Lena and the paint-splattered denim. “You look great. His Royal Highness won’t know what hit him.”

  “That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.” Lena gave her reflection one last look in the mirror. She’d tied her hair back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and a few long tendrils had escaped to frame her face. It didn’t exactly scream future princess, but she wasn’t going to change everything about herself just to please a fake boyfriend.

  Or any boyfriend, for that matter.

  “Only you would consider a date with the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor a mess.” Nia gave a dramatic sigh, reminding Lena she needed to be more careful with her words. After all, she was supposed to be falling for the handsome royal. “Do you know how many women would kill to be in your place?”

  “At least seventeen, judging by today’s Yelp reviews,” Lena quipped, doing her best to ignore the guilt that squeezed her heart like a vise. She hated lying to Nia, but Liam had made it clear she couldn’t tell anyone about their dating arrangement. Besides, she didn’t have a choice. The tax bill was due in two months. If business didn’t pick back up, Chad’s lawsuit would be a moot issue because she’d be screwed—royally.

  No, she wouldn’t allow that to happen. She had to save the studio. It was her home.

  “I wouldn’t worry about the trolls,” Nia said, flashing a mischievous grin. “The prince brought muscle, so I’d say you’re in good hands tonight. Big, delicious hands.”

  Judging by the smug look on Nia’s face, the “muscle” in question would be tagged as a hottie-in-the-wild on her social accounts the minute they walked out the door. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep His Royal Highness waiting,” Lena said, grabbing her phone off the dresser and stuffing it in her purse as they made their way down to the studio.

  When they entered, Liam stood with his back to them, studying the display in the front window. It was a series of negative space paintings she’d done in Central Park. Despite the iconic location, it was unlikely he’d recognize it. She hadn’t included well-known landmarks like Bow Bridge or Belvedere Castle. No, she’d been drawn to the quiet spaces and people who brought it to life. That was the true magic of her city, but could the prince see it?