“Good, although I am so ready to be done with Library Public Relations.” Nia crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “I swear if Dr. Larson gives me one more lecture on the importance of decorum, I’m going to give him something to be scandalized about.”
Lena arched a brow. Larson was one of the oldest professors in the Library and Information Science program and Nia was constantly butting heads with him. Unfortunately for Nia, the only path to graduation was through Larson, since he was head of the department. “Cuéntame.”
“Nothing to tell, really,” Nia said, pretending to pick at a piece of lint on her shirt. “He was personally offended by my Toxic Femininity Isn’t a Thing tee, which just proves he’s an insecure ass who can’t handle a woman with strong opinions.” Nia sighed and leaned forward, resting a fist against her cheek for support. “I’ll bet Ethan’s secure enough in his manhood to handle a strong woman.”
Lena grinned. From Larson to Ethan? That was a change of topic she hadn’t seen coming, because, come on, there was no way her BFF was pining over some stodgy old professor in a tweed jacket. Ethan, on the other hand… “You should ask him out for coffee or something.”
Nia wiggled her brows. “Or something.”
“Nice.” Lena rolled her eyes, but it was impossible to suppress the grin that split her face. Working with your lifelong friend was the best, and she knew Nia’s graduation day would be bittersweet. The studio wouldn’t be the same without her.
Then again, considering the current train wreck that was her life, there might not be a studio to worry about.
Lena’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out to see Liam’s number on the screen. Mierda. She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, but putting it off wasn’t going to miraculously improve the situation, so she’d have to suck it up. She swiped accept and brought the phone to her ear. “Your Royal Highness.”
“I told you to call me Liam,” he said, his name sounding like heaven as it rolled off his tongue in the sexy Valerian accent that turned her insides to a soft ball of clay.
“Yes, well, I’m not feeling particularly docile this morning.” That was an understatement. She was prickly as hell after leaving the bakery empty-handed—was it too much to ask for one freaking donut?—and while she knew it wasn’t Liam’s fault, she couldn’t help the frustration that welled in the pit of her stomach.
Liam chuckled. “Trust me, there isn’t a man alive who’d consider you docile.”
“Fine by me,” Lena said, rolling her shoulders even as Nia mouthed be nice. “You know what they say about well-behaved women.”
There was a long pause and Lena realized he probably didn’t know the quote, given its American origins. “They seldom make history,” she finished.
This time, Liam laughed in earnest, a low rumble that made her ovaries sit up and take notice. “I doubt that will be a problem for you, which is why I’m calling to ask you on another date.”
“You can’t be serious,” Lena scoffed. “After last night? Why on Earth would you want to put yourself through that again?”
“I admit things didn’t go exactly to plan—”
“You got creamed—literally—by the hot mess express,” Lena said, feeling the need to set the record straight. They were both adults. They didn’t need to sugarcoat the truth, especially when there was photographic evidence online.
“Which is why I thought we’d try something different today,” Liam finished as if she hadn’t spoken. “Besides, we made a deal and I intend to honor it.”
“I’d worry less about my honor and more about your reputation, if I were you.” Lena chewed her bottom lip. The last thing she wanted to do was drag the prince down with her. “This isn’t going to work. We aren’t going to work,” she amended, noting Nia’s curious stare. “Have you seen the papers?”
Liam snorted. “Total rubbish. Fin’s working on it. Give him a few more days and the papers will be singing your praises.”
“I seriously doubt it.” Lena knew there was only one way this charade could end, and last night’s debacle had just reinforced her convictions. Still, she was curious what Liam had in mind for date number two. It couldn’t hurt to ask, could it? She could always say no. “So where are we going on our second date?”
Nia’s brows shot up and she pumped her fist in the air as if Lena’s fake date were worthy of Olympic level celebration.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, the tone of his voice brooking no argument.
“I hate surprises,” Lena said, ignoring her friend’s side-eye. “And I’m busy, anyway.”
“Liar.” There was no accusation in his words. They were delivered as fact. As if he knew beyond a doubt she was just sitting around stewing over a now lukewarm cup of coffee. “The shop’s empty.”
“How do you know that?” Lena sat up straight and turned toward the front of the studio, scanning the empty sidewalk outside for signs of the prince and his entourage. “Is the goody-two-shoes prince a stalker?”
“Hardly,” he said, leaving her hanging briefly as he talked to someone on the other end of the line. He’d likely covered the phone, because all she could hear was muffled voices. “Sorry about that,” he said when he returned. “Duty calls, but I’ve arranged for Ethan to take you and Nia for a nice relaxing day at the spa, if you’re up for it?”
“You’re sending us to the spa?” She glanced at Nia as a spike of excitement coursed through her. Hanging with her bestie and getting pampered? Um, yes, please. Except, she couldn’t accept a gift like that, could she? It was too much. Nia’s face reflected her own excitement at the prospect of some much-needed pampering, and Lena’s resolve wavered.
When Liam spoke, she could almost hear the smile in his words. “Only the best for my fake girlfriend. What do you say?”
…
Liam disconnected, pleased Elena had finally agreed to close up shop for the day and let herself indulge. She deserved it after the morning’s headlines. Still, it was odd having a woman even consider refusing such a simple gesture. Most of the women at court would claw one another’s eyes out to have the prince lavish them with such gifts.
Perhaps that was why he felt so comfortable with Elena. She had no hidden agenda, no interest in court affairs, and no illusions of marrying into the royal family. The only thing she cared about was saving her studio, something he could help her with even as he pursued his own agenda. Guilt nipped at the corner of his consciousness, but he shoved it aside. He had a responsibility to protect the crown, and he could better serve his country when he wasn’t distracted by the threat of a political marriage.
Besides, Elena knew the deal—if not his true motivations—and she was a breath of fresh air in an overly demanding schedule. One he intended to savor for the duration of his time in New York. There was no shortage of politicking to be done at home, and he needed to get back to it. He’d spent the morning reviewing trade prospects and he’d formulated a solid negotiation strategy to ensure Valeria wouldn’t be forced into an unfavorable agreement, but it wouldn’t be enough to keep the bloody wolves at bay.
Not for long anyway.
The fact was, the crown—his parents—needed to think more strategically about the internal threat. Valeria was a European powerhouse when it came to banking and finance, and despite a prosperous reign, they were still dealing with political machinations from their enemies at court, fueled by rising unemployment and limited job prospects for recent graduates. It was going to take a hell of a lot more than a favorable trade deal and a blue-blood marriage to strengthen the might of the crown and squash the call to relinquish power.
Liam’s phone buzzed and he glanced down to see a text from his brother.
Xander: I’ll give you this much, you don’t do anything halfway. The press is having a field day and I have to say, I’m kind of liking this new rebellious side of you. It’s like you’re
an actual person. Thanks for taking the heat off. I owe you one.
“Prick,” Liam muttered. He started to type a reply, reminding his brother that he owed him a hell of a lot more than one, but there was a knock at the door and Fin entered, tablet in hand.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Liam gestured for Fin to take one of the leather chairs opposite the mammoth desk. The Valerian embassy was relatively small but impeccably furnished, the ornate mahogany desk a gift from the Italians when they’d first opened their doors more than a decade ago. Thankfully, what the embassy lacked in size, it more than made up for in quietude. Unlike the palace, which was always overrun with courtiers and politicians scheming for his time and favor, the embassy afforded him the opportunity to actually work without constant interruption.
“I’ve been reviewing the trade prospects you provided.” Liam steepled his fingers as Fin settled into one of the chairs. “If the Colombians want to play hardball, I guarantee they won’t like the outcome.” Fin’s usually expressive face remained impassive. “I sent you an email with the details. I need you to set up meetings with each of the countries on the list.”
Fin’s fingers flew over the iPad as he pulled up the email and scanned it, his eyes growing wide. “All of them, sir?”
“Yes, all of them.” Liam grinned. “I want to keep our options open.”
“Should I follow up with the Colombians?” Fin asked, once again tapping furiously on the screen.
“Not unless they’ve made new overtures of which I am unaware?”
Fin’s silence was answer enough. Not that Liam was worried. He had a plan and once he put his mind to something, he wouldn’t quit until he’d seen it to fruition. The Colombians had overestimated their value to Valeria, but Liam wasn’t about to show his hand.
Liam’s phone vibrated on the desk, the number for the king’s personal secretary flashing on the screen. Bloody hell. “I’ve got to take this, but I want you to look into something for me.” He handed Fin a single sheet of paper. “Find out everything you can and get me a meeting.”
Fin scanned the page. “I assume you want this kept quiet, sir?”
Liam nodded. Secrecy would be of the utmost importance. A deal like this would be hard enough to negotiate without tipping his hand to the competition.
Fin rose as Liam swiped accept on his phone and greeted his father’s personal secretary, Beatrice, who was, as usual, all business.
“Please hold for His Majesty, King George.”
Liam drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited for his father to come on the line. The waiting game was an old favorite of his father’s, and the length of the wait would tell Liam just how much trouble he was in with Their Majesties. There was no doubt they’d be pissed off about the bad press, but to what extent?
Only time would tell.
When his father joined the call in under two minutes, Liam figured he was in a fair amount of shit.
“Why in the bloody hell do I keep seeing your face in the populars?” his father demanded, skipping the usual pleasantries. His words were carefully clipped and coated with a healthy amount of disdain, the kind usually reserved for his brother. “Honestly, William. I expect this kind of behavior from Alexander, but you are the crown prince. The future of this monarchy rests with you, and I will not stand idly by while you make a mockery of it.”
“Your father’s right,” his mother’s cool voice cut in, nearly causing him to drop the phone. His parents rarely agreed on anything, so the fact that they were presenting a united front sent warning flares up to his brain. “This whole ugly business has been a dreadful headache for the press secretary.”
Right, it was the press secretary’s workload that concerned them.
“Hello, Mother. I didn’t realize you were on the line, but I suppose it’s for the best.” At least this way if his father had an aneurism, there would be someone present to call for the palace physician. “I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. Just a misunderstanding. Fin will have it all sorted out soon enough.”
“Misunderstanding?” his father scoffed. “You’re making an arse of yourself in the American papers.”
Liam didn’t bother to respond. There was no placating his father when he got like this, so why waste the breath? Better to let his temper run its course so they could get to the business at hand.
“Do you have any idea how much pressure your father and I are under right now?” his mother demanded in a voice hard enough to cut glass. “We have our hands quite full dealing with Parliament, which is why we trusted you to deal with the expiring trade agreements.”
Bollocks. Liam knew the timing was terrible, but it couldn’t be helped. When an opportunity presented itself, you had to grab it with both hands. “The trade negotiations are well in hand. I have every confidence we will have signed agreements before I return to Valeria at the end of the month.”
“Perhaps we should send Lord Chamberlain to assist,” his father said, no doubt trying to rattle Liam. The last thing he needed was one of his father’s puppets watching his every move and reporting back to the crown. “He’s quite well versed in trade negotiations and has a wealth of experience.”
The implication was clear: unlike you.
Liam gritted his teeth, refusing to take the bait. His father enjoyed reminding him of his shortcomings, but he’d spent enough time at court to recognize a trap when he saw it. He needed to keep his head. “That won’t be necessary. As I said, the negotiations are under way. Adding another party at this late hour could send the wrong message to our allies.”
Or, potential allies, since he wasn’t planning to reopen the old trade negotiations.
“I agree,” his mother chirped, taking his side in a surprise move. “It wouldn’t do to undermine William’s authority right before we start courting marriage prospects.”
And that was his cue to wrap things up.
“Have you given any thought to the names we discussed?” his mother asked, switching gears as smoothly as his Rolls. As if his marriage prospects could be properly weighed and measured like a new bill on the floor of Parliament.
Hell, to her it probably was that simple.
“No, Mother. The trade negotiations are keeping me quite busy.” But not so busy he didn’t have time to fantasize about his sexy fake girlfriend, who was probably enjoying a relaxing deep tissue massage while he was doing his damndest to avoid a royal engagement. “Speaking of which, I need to excuse myself. I’ve got a meeting.”
His mother heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Fine. We will discuss this matter further during our next call.”
Not if he had anything to bloody say about it. With any luck, he’d have the world convinced he was in love with his fake girlfriend by the next time they spoke.
Chapter Seven
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” Lena asked. She shifted to face Liam, who sat beside her in the back of the limousine looking every bit the royal hottie. He gave her a rakish grin, making it clear he had no intention of giving up the goods. “I told you, I hate surprises.”
Liam furrowed his brow, as if unable to believe anyone could hate surprises. “Why? Did you have a bad experience?”
“A bad experience? Try dozens.” Lena cringed at the onslaught of memories. “When I was in high school, the guy I was dating planned a surprise party for my birthday and when he jumped out and yelled surprise,” she said, making jazz hands so he could get the full effect, “it scared the hell out of me and I punched him in the nose. Needless to say, we broke up the next day.”
Liam gave a bark of laughter, his whole body shaking as he fought for control. “Remind me to never make you angry,” he said, blue eyes dancing with amusement.
Lena shrugged. “Seriously, nothing good ever comes from being surprised. If you tell me where we’re going, I’ll have a ch
ance to mentally prepare and lessen the odds of another…spectacle.”
“I thought a day at the spa would help you relax, but I’m starting to think one day wasn’t enough.” The corners of Liam’s lips quirked upward. “Shall I have Fin book another massage?”
“Very funny,” Lena said, toying with the hem of her skirt. Liam had already gone completely overboard on their second date, capping off the day at the spa with a dress delivery from Bergdorf. Lena still wasn’t sure how she felt about the gesture, but she couldn’t deny the gold cocktail dress was to die for—literally.
Judging by the designer label and fifteen pounds of beadwork, she’d probably have to sell a few organs to afford it on her own. With that kind of excess already in play, who knew what the prince had in store next? And had he sent the gift because he didn’t want her to feel underdressed again—after all, he was press ready in a suit and tie—or was he embarrassed of her? Not that she could exactly blame him for being embarrassed, but a designer dress wouldn’t fix her reputation.
“I don’t need another massage. The first one did wonders. I’m completely relaxed.”
Or, as relaxed as one could be when being sued by her ex and dragged in the press.
Liam rubbed his hands together, as if preparing to challenge her claim, and she rushed on. “In fact, the whole spa experience kind of made me feel like royalty.” Lena paused, reconsidering. She’d been soaked, scrubbed, wrapped, and massaged, but when it was all over, she was still herself…as evidenced by the bowl of massage oil she’d spilled on her way out the door. “Or maybe royalty’s disaster-prone cousin.”
Liam smiled in earnest this time, the warmth of the gesture heating her blood even as she reminded herself this wasn’t a real date. He was a prince, after all, and she was no princess, even if she was having a Cinderella moment. “Well, whatever they did at the spa, it agreed with you.” His gaze slid over her body, settling on her mouth. He stared for what felt like an eternity measured only by the rapid beat of her heart, and Lena fought the urge to wet her lips, which had gone bone dry. “You look stunning, Elena.”
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