by Anna Bloom
Scandal Queen
Tabloid Princess #2
Anna Bloom
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Article
If We Were Young
“My crown I am, but still my griefs are mine. You may my glories and my state depose but not my griefs; still am I king of those.”
William Shakespeare Richard II
Preface
It’s a foreign concept to consider the world you once lived in no longer exists. Everything you knew transformed in the blink of an eye.
A passing touch.
A flickered smile.
A hand that reached for yours but squeezed so tight you knew it would never let go.
The world I inhabited had turned to dust. Lies and half-truths threatened everything that I am, everything that I need.
Yet still, I walked towards my king.
Behind burned a devouring fire. Flames that would consume me; end me.
One step ahead is the flood of our love, washing everything clean, giving hope to so many who don’t even know who I am.
Don’t know my doubts. My fears. The dark moments I survive when I feel I will never be enough to help them.
He’s my king. His hand outstretched, his smile telling me to trust.
Would you?
Would you sacrifice everything you are for the king of hearts?
One
“Thanks, so much, guys.”
My eyes stung, willing me to close them and take a few minutes of respite while Daisy slept. But I couldn’t shut them. I didn’t want to see the vision seared into my memory. A forest green gaze that stared at me with tortured depths. I didn’t want to remember the kiss of farewell that grazed my cheek.
Goodbye, Princess Leia.
So instead I sat as far forward as the seatbelt would allow and slid my hands around the headrest of the passenger seat. Patrick threw a smile over his shoulder but then quickly turned his attention back to the road. Molly, who in the last seventy-two hours had elevated herself from the position of mere best friend to the rock on which I could cling to while everything else swept away in a storm, lifted her hand and squeezed my fingers.
Seventy-two hours.
Seventy-two hours to think I’d lost my daughter; to lose the man I’d come to love. Seventy-two hours for the British press to go wild at the scent of my blood spilling on the pages of their newspapers.
I glanced to where yesterday’s papers piled in the footwell of Patrick’s car. Images stared back at me of Oliver and I standing in the reception area of King’s hospital. From the front page, his pensive face, his hand holding me up while everything I thought I knew crumpled around me, stared back at me.
Oliver, the future King of England.
Oliver, who some arsehole—who’d been at the hospital for reasons of their own—had snapped with their camera phone so they could sell the moment. Sell my devastation and his response.
I mean why would he come back? His family were the bloody monarchy for Christ’s sake.
It seemed almost stupid now when I thought about it.
The charity worker and the prince; what a damn headline.
My eyes flickered to my daughter again as I checked her leached skin tone. Outside the car, the dark hours of the night hadn’t lengthened into the early rise of the sun. Shadows fell across her face; occasionally the yellow glow of a streetlamp brightened her complexion.
“Leia. We’ll stop at Exeter so we can stretch our legs and grab a coffee.” Molly turned and shot me a smile.
I flinched back against the leather seat of Patrick’s BMW. I didn’t want to get out of the car; didn’t want to be seen. Not in Exeter, not in London, not anywhere ever again.
I rubbed at my chest and tried to push back the scorching ache that had burned into existence days ago.
An ache had arrived the day I met him. He'd created a response in me I'd never felt before. Under the surface of his handsome face lay a complicated puzzle I'd wanted to solve.
But then three days ago when I said goodbye to him it had flared into excruciating pain.
The moment he’d left I’d known it was wrong. I’d reached out to him. I told him I'd made a mistake. Two days of radio silence stretched between us in a never-ending wave of static… My text remained unanswered.
Since then, breathing around the pain had been almost impossible. Every breath hurt. It reminded me of how I’d felt when I’d stood in King’s hospital with him holding me up when I’d thought Daisy was dead.
The two pains were distinctly similar. Except for one sharp difference. I’d have died on the spot if something had happened to Daisy. I know that. I couldn’t exist without her. Yet here I was existing without him, living in almost indescribable torture.
I’d made a terrible mistake.
I’d tried to protect us, but I hadn’t protected my heart.
With the compulsive obsession of someone truly twisted in the head, I grabbed the burner phone he’d given me, and pressed my thumb against the screen. Blank.
I dropped it back in my bag and then lifted my gaze to find Molly watching me, her eyebrows pulled tight together.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back against the headrest. Better to look asleep then to see that shadow of sympathy in my best friend’s eyes.
Sympathy, because I, Leia Lawrence, daughter of a drug addict, resident of one of the poorest housing estates in London, had gone and fallen in love with a prince.
Best to shut my eyes to that.
Better not to think about it.
A whimper escaped my lips while my head pounded.
Better not to think about anything at all.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew Molly gave me a gentle shake. I smiled at her for one glorious moment until the wrecking ball smashed back into my chest.
“Mummy?” Daisy’s murmur made me move and I sat up straighter
“Hey, sweetie, you’re awake.”
“I’ve been awake for ages. Patrick let me sing to Frozen.”
Patrick threw me a lopsided smirk. “I’m a true gentleman.”
I sent him a small smile of my own. Molly’s brother, bless him, had been doggedly determined to make a play for me for years. I’d never even given him a serious thought, not in a true sense anyway, yet here he was still helping me. “You are. I see that now.”
Bad thing to say.
I watched his smirk grow in the rearview mirror. “All it took was some other arse—”
“Patrick!” Molly hit him in the stomach but then turned to me. “Anyway, ignore him. I woke you up ‘cause we’re here.”
I glanced out of the window. Sure enough, the sun had spread pale pink and orange fingers across the sky. Shadows of black and grey had lifted to a pale blue. “What happened to Exeter?”
“We let you sleep.”
I rubbed at my face. I must have needed it. I hadn’t
slept since Daisy’s school had called to tell me she’d suffered a near fatal asthma attack.
My brain reeled a little, but I tried to lock it down as I smiled at Daisy. “How are you feeling?”
“Fiiiinne, Muuuummy.”
“Sweetie, I’m not expecting you to be fine for a long time.”
She didn’t understand words like heart attacks. She didn’t know that there had been a brief period of time when her little six-year-old body had all but given up. “Well I do.” She tilted her chin. “Has Ollie called?”
I winced almost compulsively. “No, Daisy.” I knew now I’d never lie to my child again. It would be the whole truth all the time. I’d kept my past from her for too long. Three days ago, she’d found out what sort of woman my own mother was by reading about it on the front page of a newspaper. Parenting fail 101.
“Check the phone.” She nodded at my bag.
With my chest squeezing, like an elephant had decided to rest on my ribcage, I reached down and flicked the screen.
“Nope.” I showed her the screen. I didn’t show her the last text I sent to Oliver. The text where I'd said Patrick and Molly were taking me to an old family property in Cornwall. “Sweetie, I think we need to be very realistic that we won’t see him again.”
The poor girl had just survived a heart attack. We’d driven her through the night to get her out of London. There seemed little point in sugar-coating the facts. The small world I'd built for her the last six years no longer existed.
She folded her arms, her little pouted lips pressing into a tight line. “Nope. I don't believe you.”
I sighed. I guess this is what happens when you mixed a Disney obsessed six-year-old with a real prince.
“Come on, let’s go and see what state this place is in.” Patrick broke the standoff and I smiled in his direction. Only small, and rather pathetic, at least I managed one.
“What’s wrong with it?” Daisy’s attention swiftly transferred.
Patrick grinned at her and undid his seatbelt. “No one has stayed here for a while. There could be a lot wrong with it.”
I blinked out through the window at the small cottage. I’d seen worse paint jobs, but the weeds on what would have been a small front garden, were waist high. “I’m grateful, guys, I really am.” I swallowed hard. “And your parents don’t mind?”
“Believe me, Cornwall isn’t sunny enough for them.” Molly scrunched her face—her normal response when talking about her relatives. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Patrick can go and see if the little shop is open.”
My stomach rolled at the thought of food. I never wanted to eat again. I nodded and smiled for Daisy’s sake.
“Let’s do this then?” I pushed open the car door, briefly shutting my eyes as the fresh morning air slipped over my skin. Cool and tangy, the tingle of salt pressed against me.
This was exactly what we needed.
I carried Daisy up the drive and waited for Molly and Patrick to open up. The sunny yellow painted door pushed open into a small low-ceilinged front room. Flagstones covered the floor. A wooden beamed ceiling hung low above our heads. If I hadn’t been blinded to anything of any beauty, I would have been blown away by the Adams' seaside cottage. As it was, I slid through the door with Daisy still clutched in my arms. I tried not to take too much notice of my surroundings, trying to ignore the reasons for me being there, like a fool.
Patrick grinned and threw the house keys into a bowl on a sideboard. He must have aimed for it before because they slid in with a clatter. He chortled to himself and then stepped towards the fireplace already laid with the makings of a fire.
“I thought you said nobody used this place?” My teeth chattered, but not because I felt too cold or needed the fire Patrick lit the match for.
“Paddy called Jeannie down the road; she cleans it once a month, but he asked her to air the place a bit ahead of us coming.” Molly looked around; both her and Patrick seemed visibly relaxed now we’d arrived. Was that because they were in a place they loved? Or was it because I was no longer their ill-gotten passenger with the press on her tail hidden in their car?
“Thanks.” I shivered again. “Can I get Daisy into bed somewhere?”
Molly shot me a smile, but it just hurt my chest even more. “Sure. I think my old room should be ready.” She waved her hands for a small doorway that led to a staircase, I could see the bottom step from my spot in the front room.
“Your room?”
Molly laughed. “Remember I went to boarding school, until, well you know?”
“Yes.” I nodded, shifting from one foot to the other as Daisy began to weigh heavy in my arms.
“It wasn’t that far away. I used to come here some weekends instead of going to see Mum and Dad.” She shrugged offhandedly but I knew Molly well.
“You haven’t brought me to party central have you, Molls?” I attempted a vain shot at humour. “I don’t need to be in any more trouble.”
“Me?” She wiggled her eyebrows, somehow managing to get the enormous tight ball in my chest to ease.
I glanced down at Daisy again to find her already sliding back into sleep. My stomach clenched; I should never have taken her out of the hospital. Reckless parenting.
Although it had been a case of that or stay there with the press outside and everyone staring at us.
Still.
“Come, let’s get her upstairs and then I’ll ring Doctor Fenwick.”
I nodded and followed her to the stairs. We’d already gone through all this. The Adams family (at any other time this would have made me chuckle), knew a local doctor who would act privately for us. Another thing for me to owe my friend for.
We walked up the narrow stairs and Molly led us into a purple coloured room. From the back window you could see the sea on the horizon, blocked by houses and gardens. My legs began to ache; heavy and dense. I quivered. All the times I wished to get washed out to sea. When Mum died, before that even. And then during the dark days when sleepless nights and a baby’s cry would shatter my dreams. Now, the sea was in my line of sight.
A slow tear trickled down my cheek.
Molly stepped closer and I placed Daisy on the mauve bedding. We both stood watching her breathe.
“I nearly lost her, Molly.” A deep shudder lifted my shoulders.
“But you didn’t. She’s still here.”
Molly’s words should have filled me with joy. Daisy had been the only thing I’d ever wanted, ever fought for. Now, they held an empty ring to them. I’d tasted something else, something perfectly insane, but I’d lost it.
“I’m so tired, Moll.”
She lifted an arm and squeezed me tight. “Get some sleep. We aren’t leaving for London until tonight. No one will find you here, you’re safe.”
My bag still containing the blank burner phone almost echoed back her words to me.
The room danced with shadows when I came to. Daisy was still asleep tucked up into my side. I breathed in deep, filling my lungs with her smell, memorising it just in case... I couldn’t chase down that dark thought, it only led to a dark and desperate place.
Patrick’s voice filtered through the floorboards. “You can’t tell her, Molly. Just leave it now.”
“Are you crazy? She’d never forgive me.”
The walls were thinner than I would have thought for an older cottage. Their conversation brushed away any remnants of sleep. Regardless, I needed to get up and get some food for Daisy; she needed to eat regular meals while she healed.
“I think he’s done enough. I mean I’ve known her as long as you have, and I’ve never seen anything destroy her like this. Not even her waste of a space mother hurt her in this way.” I sat up straight at Patrick’s response. There was only one ‘he’ they could be talking about.
I shoved at the duvet, struggling to push it off my legs. Daisy whimpered and rolled over.
Silently, I crept along the hallway back to the top of the stairs.
“It’s no
t like she isn’t going to see, Paddy. We haven’t taken her to bloody Mars.”
“I’ll unplug the telly and take it back to London with me.”
“Don’t be an arsehole.”
My entrance would have been stealth-like if I hadn’t slipped down the last three stairs and landed on my arse. “Shit.”
A pause lengthened from the front room until Molly’s blonde head ducked around the doorframe. “What on earth are you doing on the floor?”
“What are you both talking about?”
Her lips crimped like she’d sucked a lemon, but she quickly smoothed her frown away. “Don’t try to detract from the fact you’ve fallen on your arse. Paddy! She must be feeling better, she’s falling over again.”
Shaking my head, I forced myself up from the floor. “Don’t bullshit me, Molly. Tell me what you’re talking about.”
With an audible sigh, she pointed at the small room which seemed to act as front room and entrance. “It’s the news.”
My stomach had been tied tight into knots for so long I’d almost forgotten how it should feel. Now it squeezed like someone was pulling on a taut string. “What’s happened?”
“Oliver.”
I pushed past her, my feet almost moving on their own command. My brain shut down. The news flicked on the screen. My gaze darted to the red banner running along the bottom of the picture: Prince Oliver gives honest statement and apologises to the public.
I stared, my mouth falling open and hanging loosely. He was going to apologise about me. He was going apologise to all those other people—about me.
I sunk to the floor although my legs still shook even once I sat on the green rug. “Have you seen it?” I whispered.
