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“You’re right.” He held his hands out, frustration coursing through his veins. “But even princesses have sex. You think Prince Harry and Kate Middleton did in vitro, or do you think they bumped nasty’s and made a baby the old-fashioned way?”
She swiped her hand through the air. “That’s different. They’re married. And they weren’t caught on camera in a car, for God’s sakes.”
“I refuse to feel ashamed because we had sex.” He stomped into his pants. “I know this sucks, PR-wise, but we didn’t do anything wrong. You’re single. I’m single. We fucked. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It is, though.” She tossed her robe aside, went to her luggage, and rifled through it before pulling out a lavender dress. “In my world, it really is.”
“Look, I’m not going to pretend to understand your world. I don’t.” He swallowed hard, the guilt at how horrible she felt—how horrible he’d made her feel—choking him. “But even so, I want to help you. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
She clasped her bra. “There’s nothing you can do, Gordon. Nothing at all.”
He stood there, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, and watched her as she slid into a pair of satin panties. He felt so fucking helpless. “It’s my fault that we got caught, and if I ever find the little fucker who’d sold the footage, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.” He hesitated, his throat getting tight at the words he wanted to say but wasn’t sure if he could. “But I refuse to regret what we did. And I won’t apologize, either. I refuse to regret you. I think you’re an amazing person, and I care about you. And I’m here to help you. I want to help you. Let me help you.”
She stopped, the dress in her hands, and bit down on her lower lip. “I think you’re special, too. I really do.”
He closed the distance between them, capturing her face between his hands. Kissing her gently, he tried to show her without words just how much she meant to him. Just how extraordinary she was. When he pulled back, he locked gazes with her. Her glistening pink lips were tempting, but they needed to focus. He needed to help her…
No matter how ridiculous he thought it might be that everyone was all up in airs about a fuck. “Whatever those people out there need me to do, I’ll do it.”
And he meant every word.
She smiled at him. “That’s very sweet of you, but you don’t have to do that. This is my problem, not yours.”
“No.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then went in search of his shirt. It was a hell of a lot harder to let go of her than he thought it would be. “It’s ours.”
“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re a prince.” She rose on tiptoes and kissed him again. “A true prince.”
His heart pounded against his ribs, the guilt subsiding a little bit at her words. Around her, he almost felt like a real fucking prince, which was stupid as hell. He’d never be one. “I don’t know about any of that shit, but let’s get dressed so we can brush our teeth and get out there before all those people waiting for you have a conniption.”
Her lips twitched into a small smile. “Okay.”
Progress, no matter how tiny it might be. She no longer looked as if she was about to burst into tears, if nothing else. That was the most he could ask for, considering the circumstances. They finished dressing, brushed their teeth, and freshened up in under five minutes. They walked to the bedroom door.
Isabelle’s steps slowed the closer they got.
“Hey.” Gordon reached out and caught her hand. “You okay?”
She looked at him, her green eyes somber and clear. “I think so.”
“Let’s go out there, then. Get this over with. I’ll be at your side the whole time.”
She nodded once. “Open the door.”
He did, and he found two out of the three people who’d woken them up, sitting on the couch. His lips twitched. If they knew what their beloved princess had been doing on that exact couch only hours before, they wouldn’t look so damn regal. “Good morning…again.”
“Sit,” the ambassador said, rifling through papers. “Both of you.”
Isabelle looked at Gordon, her fingers tightening on his. “Can we excuse Gordon, please? This mess isn’t his.”
“To the contrary, it very much is,” the ambassador said, not even looking up from the file he was rummaging through. “He stays.”
“I told you I’m not leaving you,” Gordon said, frowning down at Isabelle before turning to the other two occupants in the room. The older woman held a MacBook on her lap, pointed at them, and the ambassador drank a coffee with a trembling hand. “Though I refuse to apologize for this…for what we did…whatever you need from me, I’ll do it. I’m not walking away from this as if I didn’t have a part in the whole…situation. Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”
“I’m very glad to hear that,” a quiet voice said. It sounded muffled through technology. “Because we’re going to require a lot from you, young man.”
Isabelle paled. “D-Dad?”
Shit, the king of Maldeva was listening? Should he bow? Sit? Stand until invited to sit? Fuck if he knew. He wasn’t exactly up to date on royal customs and expectations.
