Greer turned her gaze back to Tavish. “I’m here about this duke business, which is something I never thought I’d say to you of all people. My goodness, your father must be livid.”
Johan raised a hand in the air. “I’m here for that, too. I was just in town for a charity polo match and Thabiso asked me to stop by and offer my vast expertise on being famous for no good reason.” He glanced at Greer. “Thabiso is my friend. He’s a prince.”
Greer nodded, her eyes widening as they did every time she glanced in Johan’s direction.
“I have to admit this is all a bit much. Tavish is a duke, there’s a prince in the parlor.” She looked at Portia, then Tav. “I’m not used to this. And that’s why I’m here. The paparazzi have been hanging about. They’ve snapped photos while I’m taking the kids to school, and shown up at my work and Christopher’s, trying to get dirt on Tavish. They won’t listen when I say I don’t know anything and it’s a bit frightening.”
Tav made a sound of frustration. “I’m sorry, Greer. I never meant for you to get caught up in this.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s just . . . a lot. They shout things like ‘Do you regret divorcing him now that he’s a duke?’ Christopher’s been taking it all in stride, but the kids are frightened and it’s a bother to our neighbors and other parents at the school.”
Portia put down her cup. “I’ve been researching British law to figure out where we can draw the line with these people, and what’s actionable and what’s not, but with everything else going on I dropped the ball. Sorry.”
“Are you running Mr. McKenzie’s security detail? Or are you his lawyer?” Johan asked in a tone Portia couldn’t parse. “Thabiso told me you were an apprentice swordmaker.”
She could parse that. Johan’s tone was somewhere between polite inquiry and not so subtle judgment.
“I am an apprentice. I’ve been handling other matters, though.” She gave Greer an encouraging look. “I’ll try to figure this out.”
She tapped open her to-do list added Figure out how to stop paps and Security detail for Tav.
She swiped to her emails and beside her Tavish heaved a sigh. “They’ve been after Jamie and Cheryl, and bothering folks in the neighborhood. I didn’t think they’d bother you, though. It’s been ages.”
“That was a mistake,” Johan cut in. “Everything is carrion for these vultures now. They’ll search out your first kiss, your teachers, your plumber. There are now people out there intrigued by what dental floss you used just because you have a title in front of your name. C’est das leben.”
“So there’s nothing to be done. How comforting,” Tavish said, narrowing his eyes in Johan’s direction.
Johan shrugged. “I wasn’t sent to give you comfort. You already have someone for that.” He nodded in Portia’s direction and her face went warm. “I’m here to help you navigate your new career.”
“I already have a job,” Tav said.
“And now you have two,” Johan replied. “Portia here seems to have several more than that so no complaining unless you’re not as capable as your apprentice.”
Tav looked a bit flustered. “Well, it seems a bit rude to point this out, but aren’t you on the cover of damn near every tabloid? Not sure you’re really going to be helpful with the career navigation.”
Johan looked at Tavish the same way one would a chick chirping mindlessly. “Do you happen to know what my brother, the actual crown prince of Liechtienbourg, looks like? Or what he does on a daily basis?”
Portia racked her brain. Prince . . . Luca? Was that his name? He was still in high school. She thought he might have blond hair . . .
“I’m drawing a blank,” Portia said.
“Me, too,” Greer added. She kept her gaze pointedly away from Johan and Portia was sure the woman was thinking of some debauchery or other that she had seen.
“No clue,” Tav admitted.
“Well, then you can understand that there are many ways of handling the paparazzi. I use one that works well for me, and to do that I need to know how they operate. Do you think one just ends up on every tabloid cover—not damn near every—by chance?”
“So . . . you play them to your own ends?” Tav asked.
“Ouay. They focus on me, and they leave Lukas alone. If you don’t think that’s helpful to you, I can go.”
“I need all the help I can get if you hadn’t noticed,” Tav said ruefully. “Thank you for offering and I accept.”
Portia glanced at her texts and noticed she’d just received an influx of them—there was a string of messages from her various social media accounts notifying her that attempts had been made to change her passwords. Panic seized her.
“Someone is trying to hack my social media.” The thought of her private messages and private photos being stolen, or worse, shared, filled her with tension.
“What?” Tav said.
Johan sighed. “You have two-step activated, I suppose?”
Portia nodded as she hopped apps, checking that each was still in her control. Her heart was pounding—even though this wasn’t a physical attack, it was an intimate one. Her privacy was being invaded before her eyes by unseen forces.
“Change all of your passwords to be safe. Tavish, you’ll have to change your passwords, too.” Johan turned to Greer. “There’s a service for people who prefer a more direct approach to ridding themselves of insistent paparazzi. Former rugby players in possession of very thick necks and a thorough knowledge of British law. If you provide me your phone number, I’ll have them contact you. Don’t worry about the cost.”
Portia glanced at him, surprised. She’d wondered why Thabiso was such good friends with a known troublemaker, and now it was starting to make sense. He was a fuckboy with a heart of gold.
Greer stood and took the card Johan had smoothly proffered. “I’m going to go; have to pick up the kids. Thank you, um, Your Highness.”
“Please. Call me Johan.” He stood, taking her extended hand and bowing regally over it. Pink bloomed on Greer’s cheeks.
“Oh, um, yes. Johan. And nice to meet you, Portia. I hope you get everything sorted with the hacking. We’ll all have to deal with the invasiveness for a bit, it seems.”
She didn’t sound bitter, but the words landed heavily between them. Little did Greer know that all of this was Portia’s fault. If she hadn’t gone into hyper research mode for no damn reason, none of this would be happening.
“I’ll see you out,” Tav said, standing to follow her.
Johan turned his gaze to Portia and she raised her brow in a silent “what?”
“Thabiso is a shameless gossip but he didn’t tell me you and the new duke were an item.”
“We’re not,” she said, training her face to an impassiveness that almost matched his own. She and Tav had barely spoken to each other in his presence—how had he picked up on anything?
“So, you’re just friends with benefits? All the better. Best to get over him now and get out while you have a chance.” He said it nonchalantly, as if he’d commented on the weather before taking another sip of his tea.
Portia’s mind-your-business hackles activated and stood at attention. “This is super inappropriate. I know you’re Thabiso’s friend, but you know literally jack shit about me.”
“Ach. Sometimes I forget that Liechtienbourger forwardness can be considered rude by Americans. Ironic, yes?” He presented her with a smile meant to disarm and swept that lock of hair from his eyes. “I know a little about you. I don’t say this to brag, but I’m very good at reading people. I don’t usually call things to their attention unless I think they’re in danger.”
Portia scoffed and laughed at the same time—scaughed?—and shook her head. “Did you literally ‘Portia, you in danger, girl’ me?”
Johan deigned to show confusion. “What?”