As her words sink in, my mind spins into overdrive. Why would people care about me? I’m a nobody here in Saintland. There was that photographer following us at the canal, but Alec didn’t seem very troubled by it. The media like to report on the comings and goings of the royal family, but there was nothing special or unusual about our walk together by the canal.
Have they dug up something from my past? I can’t think of anything that could be considered scandalous by the media, unless they’re opposed to changing degrees and transferring colleges.
What the hell could it be?
“Claire, I don’t—.”
Claire swipes at the tablet a few more times, then turns the screen so I can see it..
The gossip site headline screams, “PALACE SCHISM OVER MYSTERY WOMAN.”
The photo of Alec and another man—the caption names him as the crown prince Marcus, his brother—has been shot from a high angle, looking down on them. Alec’s teeth are clenched, his face appears to be red with anger, and worst of all, he is holding Marcus up against what looks to be a garden wall by the collar of his jacket. .
Oh, shit.
Things must be worse between them than I thought, and it’s all because of me.
Shock must be evident on my face, because Claire tries to soften the blow. “They haven’t identified you by name,” she says, closing the tablet and patting me on the arm. “It’s just that I’m just not sure what this will mean for…for the rest of your stay.” She finishes the comment rather lamely, and we sit in awkward silence for a few moments.
Then, Claire gets hold of herself, her demeanor reverting to its usual unfailing professionalism. “In the meantime,” she chirps brightly, “I have had no word from Prince Alexander that our schedule should change. Shall we shop?”
“Oh—sure,” I agree, even as the photograph and headline spin endlessly in my mind. What’s going to happen now? What if this is the end of Alec and me? What if I’m forced to leave Saintland?
Claire and I head off down to the street, crossing over a few blocks to reach the main shopping district in Sainthall. We browse through a few shops, but I don’t see anything on the racks that strikes my fancy.
This situation with Alec and his family is out of control, and something has to change.
Should that something be me?
Why is this so agonizing?
Because you love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone.
The answer rings out crystal clear like a bell in my mind, its chime resonating all the way to my heart.
It’s true.
But how can I force myself to fit in with Alec’s family?
When we’re back out on the street, my mind still reeling, I notice that the people on the sidewalk are casting me sidelong glances as I pass them by. Some of them look at me with expressions of pity and empathy, but others look…angry.
Maybe this is what happens when you take a risk on being with someone, when you say yes to a man without giving it thorough and proper consideration.
“Claire,” I say, my voice low. “They’re all looking at me, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” she says, not bothering to lie. “No one knows your name yet, but everyone has seen your face in the paper or on their computer screen.”
My instinct is to raise my chin and not let them disrupt my day, but suddenly, I’m back in boarding school, struggling to fit in; I’m back in New York, looking in from the outside on my rich friends as they lead dream lives.
“You know,” I say lightly, “I’m in the mood for an afternoon in. Do you have a favorite movie, Claire?”
“Of course,” she says, her eyes sweeping the sidewalk around us as she links her arm through my elbow. “Let’s order in a fancy lunch and we can watch a movie together.”
“Perfect.”
We turn down the next street, hurrying back toward the Northern Crown. My relief at leaving the busy street leaves me feeling weak in the knees.
But weakness does me no good. I need to brace myself for what’s coming.
I’m in too deep with Alec. I can’t deny it any longer. I’m in love.
Chapter 22
Alec
The moment I see the goddamn photographer, I release hold of my brother’s jacket, turn on my heel, and leave him behind alone in the garden. As I go, I hear him suck in a deep breath. He’ll no doubt deal with the man—the mutual understanding between the media and the palace is that the grounds are off-limits without an express invitation. The paparazzi haven’t been so rabidly interested in our family since my mother’s death nearly twenty years ago, but even then…
Jessica.
Somehow, their attention is really focused on Jessica.
How could I have missed it?
Saintlanders are known for their polite ways, but how could they help but be intrigued by her. I wasn’t even able to resist her charms and damn it, I had gone to the United States for a couple of weeks to get my fill of women. One look at her, and my plan went up in flames.
Even the most polite Saintland citizens are going to have an opinion about the woman who caused two princes to come to blow.