A Royal Disaster

by Jennifer Bonds

  “The man is relentless. All work and no play.” Liam shuddered, although he was something of a workaholic himself. Hard to be anything else when you were the crown prince. Being royal wasn’t something you could just turn off or leave at the door when five o’clock rolled around. He was always expected to be “on,” which was probably why the mess at the restaurant had thrown him for a loop. And if he was thrown, he could only imagine how Elena was feeling. Shit. He could’ve handled the situation better. Done more to prepare her. “Look, I know it’s hard being thrust into the spotlight, but it gets easier over time.”

  “Really?” she asked, arching a slender brow. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to completely humiliate yourself in front of a sexy prince and his four billion fans?”

  Liam smirked and leaned in close. “You think I’m sexy?”

  Elena rolled her eyes and planted a hand on her hip, a spark of passion flaring deep in her eyes. “You’re the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor. You obviously know people find you sexy.”

  “Yes,” he said, skimming a hand down her bare arm as the citrusy scent of her shampoo toyed with his senses, “but now I know you find me sexy, too.”

  It was unexpected but certainly not unwelcome.

  “Whatever. You still haven’t answered my question.” She paused, worrying her bottom lip. “You’re good at that, you know. Dodging questions, I mean.”

  “I’ve had extensive media training.” He hated to admit it, but it had saved his arse on more than one occasion. Too bad his brother hadn’t paid more attention during those lessons. It could’ve saved the entire family quite a few headaches. “In a few weeks you won’t even notice the cameras. Or the security detail,” he added as her gaze flicked to the car where Jack and Ethan stood, scanning the quiet street.

  “Doubtful.” Elena grabbed the key ring from his hand and shoved a key in the lock, giving it a sharp twist. There was a loud thwack as the dead bolt slid and the door fell open, jangling the overhead bells. “I’m not like you.” She turned and offered him the kind of saccharine smile that could separate a man from his senses. “I think we’ve already established you’re Mr. Perfect.”

  Not bloody likely. If he were perfect, he’d have found a solution to his marriage problem that didn’t include flaunting a fake American girlfriend before the tabloids.

  “I believe I said I was the perfect royal, not the perfect man,” he said, giving her a wink. “That just means I know how to apologize when I’ve botched things.”

  Elena’s lips twitched. “Pretty sure that also makes you the perfect man.”

  If only his life were that simple. “I think you’re missing the point.”

  “Which is?” she asked, tilting her head and batting her lashes innocently.

  Liam shrugged. “I’ve had a lifetime of training, and even I screw up with the press sometimes.”

  “Name one,” she said, eyes narrowed as if she could suss out the truth with a mere look.

  “When I was five, I wore long trousers to the Royal Egg Hunt. It caused quite the scandal.” He chuckled, remembering how angry his mum had been when she saw the headlines. The royal correspondent for The Daily News had been banned from the palace for a month afterward, and he hadn’t owned another pair of trousers until his eighth birthday.

  “Seriously?” Elena threw up her hands. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Your biggest embarrassment was a fashion faux pas?”

  It was a valid point. Comparing their problems was like comparing the imperial and metric systems. It was all about perspective. Still, he forced a grin, determined to keep the mood light. “What can I say? I learned to avoid bad press at an early age.”

  Elena snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Mostly,” he amended, trying to ignore the swell of her breasts even as he realized he should’ve messaged Fin about the incident at the restaurant. The PR team hated being the last to know when things went sideways, but he’d been more concerned with protecting Lena, and it was too late to do anything about it now. “Growing up in the spotlight isn’t easy. There’s always someone watching, waiting for you to screw up so they can profit off your mistakes.” He paused. He’d be a fool to say more, but there was something about Elena that made him want to open up to her. It had been so long since he’d let anyone in—with good reason—but it was a hell of a way to live. “When I was at school, I confided in a friend about a rough patch my family was experiencing. The following week, news of my parents’ marital trouble was plastered all over the tabloids.” To this day, Their Majesties had no idea he’d been the leak for that particular story, but he’d never forgotten the shame of his naïvety. “Fact is, if you screw up, someone’s going to leak it to the press, and you rarely see it coming.”

  “That’s awful,” Elena said, taking a step forward and laying a hand on his chest. It was an intimate gesture, the kind he wasn’t used to receiving—especially when it was sincere—and his skin heated at her touch. “No one should have to grow up like that, not knowing who they can trust.”

  “It’s one of the less glamorous aspects of a royal heritage.” Possibly the worst part, but he’d already revealed too much. The problem was Elena was easy to talk to. He’d have to watch himself more carefully in the future, NDA or not. He felt like a bastard for even thinking it. She seemed trustworthy, but that was always the way of it. “I shouldn’t complain. My brother Xander? Let’s just say he’s a magnet for bad press.”

  Elena pressed her lips flat. “I’m sorry I’ve gotten you into this mess.” She gestured helplessly. “You’ve worked so hard to keep your image clean, and I just keep mucking it up.”

  “It’s not your fault. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t been trespassing on your property,” he said quietly. He was the one who’d drawn the paps to her studio. He was the one who’d shimmied through the fence and interrupted…whatever it was she was doing. He’d be the one to fix it, too. And if he managed to solve his own problems in the process, so much the better. “Besides, give it another few days and there’s a good chance my brother will steal the headlines and take the heat off us.”

  Lena gave a weak smile. “We should be so lucky.”

  Mad Eyes Murphy Strikes Again

  Elena “Mad Eyes” Murphy strikes again. Sources say Murphy was spotted dining with none other than His Royal Hotness, Prince William Stanley, Duke of Carlyle, last night. And honestly, we just can’t figure it out. After the purple paintsplosion, why would the prince get within fifty yards of Murphy?

  Frankly, we think HRH has grounds for a restraining order.

  The pair was spotted getting cozy at a swanky steakhouse on Beaver Street last night and at first blush, it looked like maybe the East Village artist was trying to make amends for running the prince down with her crazy train last week. That is, until she went full Hulk and shoved HRH—we’re talking full on, two palms to the chest action—on her way out the door, spilling food, breaking dishes, and creating general chaos.

  Reports on Murphy’s nuclear meltdown have been mixed, but a little bird told us she was jealous of the attention the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor was giving a certain sexy server. Clearly Mad Eyes doesn’t know a goodwill gesture when she sees it, but hey, props to HRH for being so forgiving. We always knew he was the perfect royal.

  If you’re reading this, Prince William, just remember… Attack me once, shame on you. Attack me twice? Well, we’re not in the business of shaming royalty, but maybe we should be. Looks like it could be a lucrative business as long as Murphy is in the picture!

  Chapter Six

  Lena picked up her pace as she scrolled through the tabloids on her phone. She was still half a block from Sweet Celebrations and she needed the sugary, carby goodness of a double chocolate sprinkled donut more than she needed her next breath. If only to fortify herself before she melted into a puddle of despair. She�
��d made headlines in all the major gossip rags and even a few legitimate news sites. Again. And it was even worse than the first time.

  Mierda. It was worse than the time she’d had to borrow a jacket from her math teacher Mr. Bennett to cover up the giant red stain on her pants when she got her first period.

  Still, she couldn’t tear herself away. She had to know what was being said about her, even if it was savage.

  Lena huffed out a breath and willed her legs to move faster, weaving around early morning commuters and students who flooded the sidewalks, briefcases and backpacks in tow. Was it her imagination or were people scowling at her? No. She shook her head and cast the thought aside. Not everything was about her. It was just the freaking news making her paranoid.

  Then again, perhaps she hadn’t been paranoid enough, given the way she’d been blindsided by this morning’s headlines.

  The date had ended in disaster and she’d known there was a chance word would leak out about it, but she hadn’t expected people to accuse her of trying to assassinate the prince. Or the pictures. God, there were. So. Many. Pictures. They were all over the web, the most popular being one of her standing over the food-splattered prince with a look on her face the press had dubbed pure malice.

  It was a tragedy of epic proportions. This farce was supposed to redeem her, not further cement her position as the Most Hated Woman in America. Lena cursed herself for being so foolish. She should’ve known things would go wrong.

  After all, #disaster was the story of her life.

  And now Liam knew it, too. Oh, he’d been skeptical at first, but there was nothing like a sautéed shrimp to the head to set a man straight. Lena sighed. All things considered, he’d been pretty understanding about the whole thing. She honestly couldn’t say she’d have handled the situation with as much grace and charm had their situations been reversed. Hell, he’d tried to make her feel better despite being the one covered in food.

  It proved that her initial perception of him had been…skewed. He might be polished, but he wasn’t the cocky and arrogant celeb she’d imagined. He was actually kind of…sweet.

  Which was definitely not a thought she should be having about her fake boyfriend.

  Lena’s spirits lifted as she approached Sweet Celebrations, her mouth watering at the prospect of a giant, fluffy donut melting on her tongue. Today was a new day. She’d grab her breakfast and pick up a banana chocolate chip donut for Nia, who’d insisted on coming in to work, despite the lack of actual clients. All she had to do was stay off social media and avoid Liam.

  Mamey.

  The door to the shop swung open, releasing the familiar aroma of fresh baked bread, and Lena slipped inside, offering a hurried thanks to the older gentleman who’d held the door. Obviously, her imagination had gotten away with her earlier. No one was scowling at her or silently cursing her. She was a just another face in the bustling crowd.

  Exactly how she liked it.

  The bakery was more crowded than usual, and the employees were scrambling behind the counter, working swiftly to fill white boxes and bags with delectable treats. Lena made a beeline for the queue, doing a quick headcount to estimate the wait time. Not that she was in a hurry, exactly. It was more like force of habit from days when the studio had actual bookings. Lena had nearly reached the end of the line when she bumped into a girl wearing a sparkly pink Future Mrs. William Stanley T-shirt.

  Because of course she’d run into one of His Royal Hotness’s stans. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes at the absurdity of a tween wanting to marry a man twice her age. Then again, her teen crush had been an undead vampire, so maybe she didn’t have room to talk.

  “Sorry.” Lena gestured toward the counter. “I was thinking about double chocolate with sprinkles.”

  The girl looked her over, recognition dawning on her face. “You!” she hissed, narrowing her eyes to tiny slits. “You’re Mad Eyes Murphy!”

  Coño.

  Lena glanced around, panic taking root. She so didn’t need another scene. And this girl was definitely going to make a scene. She exhaled in one sharp whoosh and, though it went against her instincts, she lied her ass off, promising herself she’d say ten Hail Marys later. “Um, no. I think maybe you have me confused with someone else.” She ducked her head and joined the line, hoping the girl would move on so she could get her donut and get the hell out of carb heaven before anyone else recognized her.

  “Hey, Elena.”

  Lena’s head snapped up and she turned to see the future Mrs. Stanley watching her with a smug grin.

  “I knew it,” the girl said with a self-satisfied flip of her hair. Then she drew back her arm and hurled a pink lemonade donut at Lena. The donut hit her chest soundlessly and stuck to the front of her white shirt for what felt like an eternity. When it finally plopped to the floor, leaving a ring of hot-pink frosting behind, Lena knew she’d never be able to look at the seasonal specialty the same again. “How do you like it?” the girl asked, planting a hand on her hip.

  Lena stared, speechless, as anger stirred in her belly. She was by no means a violent person, but was she really supposed to stand here and let this preening princess wannabe pelt her with donuts? Then again, the girl was probably fourteen at best. The last thing she needed was pictures of her retaliating against a kid, even if the girl was being a little shit. If Lena had learned anything this past week, it was that someone was always filming. She could already see the headlines: Mad Eyes Murphy Attacks Aspiring Princess in Jealous Rage.

  Yeah, so not happening. The news outlets already had plenty to gossip about, and she wasn’t going to hand them another golden ticket.

  “Stay away from Prince William!” the girl warned with a healthy dose of sass, turning on her heel and stalking toward the door as onlookers whispered and pointed.

  Lena sucked in a breath, chest heaving with the effort. She would not cry. Liam’s rabid fans would not reduce her to tears. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. She didn’t have much, but she still had her pride, bruised as it was.

  Ignoring the stares of the other customers, Lena counted to ten and followed the girl out the door. The donut gods weren’t exactly smiling on her today and, as much as she needed the doughy ring of happiness, she wasn’t about to stand in line and wait for the next Prince Liam stan to call her out.

  She’d just have to make do with whatever she could scrounge up at home.

  By the time Lena slipped into the studio and pressed her back to the door, she’d almost regained her composure. So what if the press was doubling down on the Mad Eyes Murphy narrative? And saying she wasn’t good enough for the prince. She knew she wasn’t crazy, and that was all that mattered, right?

  “What the hell happened to you?” Nia asked, abandoning a giant stack of textbooks she’d piled on the front counter. She looked Lena up and down, her gaze lingering on the hot-pink stain on her blouse. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” Lena said, shaking her head and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She definitely didn’t want to talk about it, which was why she was as surprised as Nia when she blurted, “I was the victim of an unprovoked donut attack.”

  “I’ll get you some coffee,” Nia offered, busying herself at the coffee maker. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly, and Lena had a feeling she was trying not to laugh. “I’m going to need details on this donut attack. Can you identify the perp? What flavor donut was it? Oh, did anyone get it on video?” she asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

  Lena glared at her best friend. “It’s not funny! One of Liam’s pint-sized fans threw a donut at me. I guess the future Mrs. Stanley thought I needed a taste of my own medicine.”

  Lena crossed the studio and slumped onto a stool, dropping her chin into her cupped palm.

  Nia was laughing freely now, unable to control the fits of laughter that kept bursting from her mouth. “I
’m sorry,” she said, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny, but…well, it kind of is.”

  “This isn’t working,” Lena muttered as Nia crossed the room with two steaming mugs. She offered Lena the one that said Not Paint Water—because Lena had drunk from the wrong mug on more than one occasion—and kept the one-eared Van Gogh mug for herself.

  “What’s not working?” Nia asked, taking the stool opposite Lena, her schoolwork seemingly forgotten.

  “No importa,” Lena said, giving herself a mental face-palm. It was only day four, and the plan was already failing miserably. The last thing she needed to do was get caught breaking the NDA. Then again, maybe she could get a two-for-one special on legal fees, since she had yet to deal with Chad’s pending lawsuit. “It’s just…have you seen what people are saying online? Some asshole called me fat! And another one said I was cute but not worth the crazy,” Lena said, making air quotes. Her blood pressure skyrocketed at the memory of all those hateful comments. Okay, so maybe she did want to talk about it. Keeping all that negativity bottled up couldn’t be good for a person anyway. “Oh, and let’s not forget—”

  “Girl, why are you even reading that garbage?” Nia asked, shaking her head. “Internet trolls are a fact of life, just like Sunday morning sidewalk puke.”

  Lena sighed. “I know, but—”

  “Uh, uh. No buts.” Nia thunked her mug down on the wooden table. “When a fine-ass prince wants to date you, you go for it. You don’t worry about what a bunch of losers on the internet have to say. I’ll bet most of them are jealous, just like your teenybopper donut slinger.”

  “More like outraged.” Lena lifted her mug to her lips and took a long sip. The coffee was strong, hot, and just what she needed to put the bakery debacle in the rearview mirror. “Anyway, enough about me. How are your classes going?” The only upside to the slowdown at the studio was that Nia had extra time to study for her master’s program. Her best friend might be a sucker for pop culture, but she was also a total brain and would make a great librarian when she graduated.