by Virna DePaul
She rubbed his arm. “You all right?”
“I was just thinking about what we’ll do,” he replied. “I mean, afterward.”
Her face turned up to him. “What do you mean, ‘afterward?’”
“I mean after they find you. Because they will. Do we say goodbye again, like two teens from opposite sides of the tracks? Or do we try and make it work?”
For a few moments, she said nothing. He could feel her mind pulling away. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. “I don’t know,” she finally said, “I don’t know what’ll happen.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “What does it matter? Let’s not think about it. Why do we have to ruin today by thinking of the future?”
In that moment, Kyle suddenly felt very old, and Arabella seemed immeasurably young. She might’ve lived in a world where she didn’t have to worry about tomorrow, but he’d grown up wondering if his dad would be passed out drunk on the couch and unable to drive him to school. There were no guarantees.
“What is this, Arabella? What are we doing?” He brushed his thumb across her smooth skin. “Do you know what this is? Because I don’t.”
She looked away. “We’re…we’re…” She fought for the right words. “I don’t know what we are, but does it matter?”
“It matters to me. Because if you’re going to keep acting like I’m some shameful secret that needs to be hidden, I need to know.”
She flinched and pulled away slightly. “You’re not a shameful secret. But you know my parents would never approve, either.”
“Because they want you to marry the count,” he said flatly.
“Yes, and because I don’t get to make the same choices you do, Kyle.” Turning back to him, she implored, “I’m not the same kind of person as you. It’s different for us. I have to think of my family, my subjects, my country…”
Kyle swallowed. “You act like we’re from different universes, but we’re still human beings who can make our own decisions. Stop trying to act like you’re powerless. Last night, when you ran off with me, you used power you didn’t even know you had.”
“I am powerless! You don’t understand. I can’t make my own choices. Everything I do is dictated by someone else.” She was becoming clearly agitated, her face flushed.
“But you asked me to take you away. That was you, Arabella. All you. So what’s stopping you from going all the way?” He wanted her to say the words—I’ll go against my family for you—but she didn’t. She said nothing. Instead, tears pooled in her eyes.
That was her answer then, wasn’t it? Kyle got up, disgusted. He was about to walk away, but when he heard her soft sob, he paused. He couldn’t leave her, no matter how frustrated he was by the situation. He hadn’t told her he was coming to Salasia, so she had every right to feel blindsided. Maybe she simply needed time.
Returning to her, he gathered her into his arms. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I know you have a lot of people who depend on you and that my coming here was a shock.”
Arabella sobbed against his shoulder. Finally, she pulled away and wiped her face. “You’re right. I have to make a decision and stick to it. I’m just so afraid, Kyle. I’m so scared of what will happen if I anger my family and country.”
And there was the crux of the situation. Kyle had never had loved ones who cared about his decisions. His dad wanting money didn’t count. He was his own man, whereas Arabella belonged to the people.
As they walked, she seemed to shake off her sad mood, and by the time they were only a few blocks from the inn, Arabella was smiling again. Not laughing, not joyous as she’d been in the past, but not distraught. Kyle felt terrible for making her cry and stopped by the chocolatier again to buy her a box of chocolates. She beamed and kissed him in gratitude, and for a moment, he thought everything would be fine.
But as they held hands while walking up the hill to the inn, with the sun setting and the city still bustling with activity, a light flashed in Kyle’s face. And then, another. And another.
“Princess! Princess! Over here!” they shouted.
A mob of paparazzi swarmed around them like sharks.
Chapter 13
Arabella felt silly for having gotten teary by the beach, but Kyle’s words had stung. How could he think that she wanted to keep their relationship a secret or that she was ashamed of him? He was smart, handsome, successful, and…sexy! No way would she ever hide that. But…there were other factors preventing them from being together in public, and none of them had to do with how she felt about him.
What did he want from her? For her to proclaim her love from the rooftops? She could have, would have, except her parents would never allow her to be with him. Her life wasn’t her own—a fact any royal knew the second they were born. Kyle had grown up in a world where you could make whatever choices you wanted.
Maybe there are other reasons he wants to make this public so quickly, an evil little voice creeped into her mind. She didn’t want to think that Kyle had ulterior motives, but then again, he’d been genuinely offended when she’d refused his request, instead of trying to understand where she was coming from. The niggling doubt irked her until she forced it out of the way, especially since he’d apologized.
She squeezed Kyle’s hand as they mounted the hill. They had such little time together, she wanted to make the best of it, wanted things to be just as they had been hours earlier. Why focus on what could never be, instead of what they had at this very moment?
It was this thought, bringing her back to reality, when the first flashbulb went off. Then the noise, like buzzing bees around her head coupled with shouts: “Your Highness! Your Highness!” Her stomach took a dive. The crowd converged on her and Kyle so quickly that Arabella could hardly process what was happening. Her brain knew it was the paparazzi, but the only thought in her mind was, How did they find us?
“Your Highness, do you have a comment about your relationship with the American football star?” a particularly brazen journalist asked, shoving his microphone in her face. He was sweaty and red, beady eyes glazed with excitement.
Before she could utter a word, Kyle squeezed her hand like he would handle this then sprang into action. Before they could ask another question, he pushed his way through the crowd, keeping hold of her the entire time. They ran upstairs to their room with a number of the media following close behind, their steps echoing through the inn. When they reached their room, Kyle unlocked the door with quick movements only a moment before the crowd rounded the corner. He slammed the door and locked it.
Voices shouted outside the door, until someone—the inn’s manager, perhaps—turned everyone away, threatening with a call to the police for trespassing if they didn’t exit the building.
Arabella sank into the bed and fought more tears. What an emotional day. How had the media found them? Where were Royce and her mother in all this? She knew her family would’ve found them eventually, but for the paparazzi to swarm them like flies? She chastised herself for being so naïve. Did she really think she could put on a scarf and some goofy sunglasses and not expect anyone to recognize her?
Kyle turned on the TV, and she heard a newscaster announce, “Is this the next royal family scandal? Sure seems like it…” She almost told Kyle to turn off the TV, but the next segment kept her glued to the screen.
It was a photo of her and Kyle kissing last night splashed across the screen with the headline—Cheating Princess?— right underneath it. “What?” She moaned. “Frederic and I aren’t even engaged!” But it didn’t matter, because the media loved a good scandal.
“Hey, at least it’s a great pic of us,” Kyle half-laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch the TV.
Who took the pic? She wondered. Obviously someone who’d gotten paid handsomely for it, since it would cause the next great royal family scandal. “How did they know, how did they find us,” she kept murmuring to herself.
The mob of paparazzi continued to shout and talk and laugh outside the inn, and she could
even see the flashes of light aimed at their windows. “Jesus, they’re relentless.” Kyle peeked around the edge of the curtain, then jumped back. “Who the fuck gave them the tip? I didn’t see anyone following us, and I paid the owner here to keep his mouth shut. Maybe that bellboy we saw ratted us out.”
Kyle growled with fists clenched. Arabella barely heard what he was saying. They’d been found out, and now she’d created another scandal for her family to weather through. It didn’t even matter who’d leaked their location. Her heart sank. She pulled off her scarf, tossing it to the end of the bed, rubbing her fingers through her mussed hair. A headache began to bloom.
What were her parents thinking right this second? That their daughter was just as much a disappointment as their son? Did she think she could get away with this relationship? That her parents would see her happy and give their blessing? She puffed out a breath. Naïve didn’t even begin to describe her, she thought morosely.
The phone in the room rang, and Arabella jumped. She and Kyle exchanged confused looks before she slowly got up and picked up the old phone with long, curly cord and large buttons. “Hello?”
“Arabella? Is that you?”
Her eyes widened. “Mother, how did you…?”
Her mother’s voice was brisk, brimming with anger. “Did you really think you could run away without us finding you? How absurd. Anyway, you need to know what’s going on, or rather, who you’ve so stupidly run away with.”
Her head swam with a myriad of thoughts. “What are you talking about?”
“Kyle Young, you foolish girl! He’s using you. For your position and your money. Haven’t you realized that yet?”
Arabella froze. Her hand clenched the phone so hard her fingers hurt.
Kyle crouched by her side. “What’s she saying?”
But Arabella wondered now if she could trust Kyle. His earlier words came back into her mind, the ones questioning her motive to keep their relationship secret. “What do you mean, Mother?” she finally asked.
“He hired someone to take that photo of you and him kissing. He sold it to the media. Now he’s milking this scandal for all it’s worth.” Elisabetta laughed, an icy chuckle. “Did you truly think otherwise? That this was some grand romance? Come back home, dearest. The damage has been done, but now we can work to lessen the overall scandal.”
Arabella glanced at Kyle watching her intently. She didn’t want to believe it. He’d seemed as shocked as she was at the paparazzi for mobbing them, but then again, he’d been the one wanting her to make their relationship public. How could he take advantage of her position if they were a secret?
She didn’t want to hear the words, but asked them anyway. “How do you know it was him?”
Elisabetta scoffed. “We demanded that the website take the photo down, and after some pressing, they gave us the name of the person who sold them the photo. A ‘Mr. Young.’ Interesting, isn’t it?”
“You’re lying.” There was no way. He’d been with her the entire time. He’d never been doing business on the phone, computer, or anything. He’d been paying attention to her the entire time they were together.
“Ask the site owner yourself, darling. He’s the one who issued the payment. But don’t go into hysterics. Just come home and we’ll deal with this, like we did with your brother. This was never going to be more than a short affair anyway. I know that, and you know that, too.”
“But, why?” She sounded like a child, but she needed to know if the man taking her hand right now, stroking her arm in concern, was a fake and a liar.
“Why, when he already has his own money, you mean?” Mother asked. “Well, apparently, he declared bankruptcy a year ago. He has more debts than you can imagine. Not quite a prince, is he? So when he found out you were fair game, he figured you’d be a quick paycheck. Of course, he didn’t consider that we’ll sue him for libel and drain him of any money he may have earned, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Arabella couldn’t move. She listened to her mother speak a while longer before hanging up the phone in shock. Kyle had pulled up a chair across from her and tried to take her hand again, but she couldn’t let him touch her.
“What is it? What’s going on?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
Her mind spun so fast, she was almost sick, and her hands were shaking. She knew her mother. Mother much preferred to dig for the dirtiest of truths and use them as weapons. As soon as she discovered a “Mr. Young” was behind all this, she would’ve been chomping at the bit to reveal that tidbit to her daughter.
She hated that her mother was right, but she’d already been naïve enough to think she wouldn’t cause a scandal. To continue being naïve in the face of evidence was just foolish. Somehow, Kyle had orchestrated this, or at least taken advantage of her stupidity. She’d been played expertly. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back.
“What happened?” Kyle leaned toward her. Was it all an act?
“It was my mother.” Arabella swiped at her face, exhausted and confused.
“Your mother? What did she have to say? Demanding that you come home?”
His voice sounded irritated, and his face was tense. Although Arabella normally
would be as frustrated with her mother as Kyle, right now she didn’t want to hear him criticize her family.
“She told me what I needed to hear. She knows who told the paparazzi about our location, and who sold the photo to them.”
Eyebrows shooting up, he replied, “Well, who does she say it was?”
His almost dismissive tone made her heart sink even further. Shouldn’t he sound more concerned? Her head was killing her, and she rubbed her eyes. “You really can’t guess?”
Kyle blinked. “Wait, you don’t think it was me, do you?” He stood and stepped back. “What, is this some kind of game?”
Say it wasn’t you, Kyle. Say you had no idea. Say you don’t have debts and weren’t using me for my money. Please, Kyle.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m lost, but I’ll play along. Was it your family?”
Arabella stood up, incensed. “How could you accuse them? Like they’d want another scandal to deal with!”
“Royce, then? The Count? Jesus, Arabella, how the fuck am I supposed to know?”
She paced to the opposite side of the room, not knowing if she should cry, vomit, or throw a chair. Maybe all three. But when Kyle came up behind her, trying to hold her, she wrestled herself free. “Stop acting like you don’t know.” She whirled on him, pointing a finger into his chest.
He threw his hands up in the air. “Stop talking in fucking riddles already!”
“It was you!” she shouted back. “It was you! Stop trying to act like you don’t know anything! My mother told me everything. About how someone named Mr. Young sold that photo and tipped off the paparazzi. She told me everything, Kyle.”
Stunned, he stepped back, staring at her. An angry flush of red crept into his cheeks. “Are you serious right now? Are you seriously accusing me of doing this?”
“Did you declare bankruptcy last year? Do you have debts? Because that’s the proof she gave me. Tell me it isn’t true, and then I’ll know she’s lying.”
When Kyle said nothing, his jaw clenched, Arabella knew the answer: it was true. All of it. He had used her. And she’d been stupid enough to fall in love with him.
Chapter 14
If there was anything Kyle did not want to talk about right now, it was his financial issues. When he was barely eighteen years old, Gary had persuaded him to open a joint bank account with him, an account Kyle was assured had been closed some years later. Only to discover that his dad had lied about closing the account, and about funneling money into it to pay for his various predilections: gambling, women, you name it.
When Kyle discovered the amount of money his father had spent—and after Kyle had fired the financial advisor who’d gone behind his back—it’d been too late. He had to declare partial bankruptcy and was st
ill trying to dig out from underneath the mountain of debt Gary had created for him.
But as Arabella looked at him, her eyes widening at his silence, Kyle knew he’d have to swallow his pride and tell her the truth. Not just about the money, but about his father. About his trailer park history, and how he’d grown up poor with a drunk for a dad.
“I won’t deny the money issues,” he said tersely. At her gasp, he added, “But that doesn’t make the other stuff true.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” He barked out a laugh. “How I didn’t grow up wealthy, like you? How I’ve had to watch my money carefully, how my dad drains me every chance he gets? Which part of it, Duchess? And given your reaction, it’s obviously not something I’d want to talk to you about.”
“So you admit that you need money?” she asked quietly. She seemed diminished, like she wasn’t sure who to believe. He had no idea if this Mr. Young bit was true or not, or if it had to do with his dad, but he refused to let Arabella think the worst of him like this.
“There are debts, yeah. Big ones. Racked up by my asshole dad, who screwed me over big time. But do I need your money? No. And even if I did, I wouldn’t sell you—and myself—out to the fucking paparazzi. You have to believe me.”
He could tell she wanted to believe him, but when she shook her head, he had a feeling it wouldn’t matter. She believed her mother over him, and confirming part of what her mother had said about him probably confirmed everything in her mind.
You were never good enough for her, his mind sank its claws into him. You’ll always just be trailer trash Young.
“Just tell me, did you sell the photo?” she asked.
“Of course not!” He raised his voice. “Besides the fact that you’re neglecting one little thing: you were the one asking me to leave the ball. That was your decision, Duchess. So how does that fit into your idea that I planned it all?”
