Page 24 of Handle Me

LOLA

“Keep calm,” I ordered myself. “This isn’t a real date.”

So why was I acting like it was? I’d been staring at two outfits for the better part of an hour. The point of this evening wasn’t to work myself into a frenzy preparing for a romantic evening. It was to force Anders out of his comfort zone. He needed to learn how to act like a gentleman before he stuck his foot in his mouth at Buckingham or in front of the press. Since the world had discovered his connection to the royals, there’d been no end of paparazzi following him. Tonight would be no different.

And that was the problem.

I needed to guide him through how to act when surrounded by photographers, and how to behave at a fancy dinner—even when flustered. Helping him pick out new clothes was only the first step. I had to teach him how to be a prince.

I hadn’t really thought this through. The tabloids were going to make crazy assumptions if anyone spotted us together. We’d been fortunate when we went shopping. Maybe we’d manage to stay out of the spotlight tonight. But how long could our luck hold? I had a terrible feeling that if I wasn’t careful I’d be linked to Anders romantically, which was the last thing either of us wanted.

My phone rang, delivering me from my endless over-analysis of the outfits. I was only mildly disappointed to see it was my mother and not my business partner. My partner would have been helpful in an outfit crisis. Our entire business was based on fashion, after all. My mother was likely to dig her heels in and focus on the news I needed to deliver to her.

“I’m sorry that I missed you,” she said breezily when she answered. “I was with my trainer.”

My mom had been concerned with her figure before our sister accidentally fell in love with the prince of England. Since then, she’d committed no less than three hours a day to working out. It was exhausting just to think about it.

“I wanted to tell you something.” I abandoned the outfits and went into the loo to finish getting ready.

“Is everything alright?” she asked quickly.

“It’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal.” I’d learned a long time ago to manage her expectations to prevent a scene. It was a useful skill to have, but it didn’t work as well over the phone—or when I was distracted over my non-date.

“Okay,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “I was just worried. I’ve been trying to reach Clara for a few days. I thought maybe…”

“I’m sure Clara is fine,” I said in a soothing tone. My older sister was probably avoiding her. Madeline Bishop could get a bit overwhelming, and Clara was nine months pregnant. “She’s probably busy with doctor’s appointments.”

“Maybe you should call her.”

“I will,” I promised. “Look, you know how I went to Silverstone?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Clara asked me to help Anders deal with some of the PR fallout from the…”

“Scandal?” she repeated, instantly concerned.

It was as apt a term as anything else. “Yes. Anyway, he’s been followed by a lot of paparazzi, and they’re probably going to catch pictures of us together.”

“How together?” she asked suspiciously.

This was exactly why I needed to prepare her in advance. She was as likely to jump to conclusions as the tabloids were. “I’m here strictly professionally. No matter what they put on the front page.”

“The last time I heard not to trust the tabloids, your sister was secretly dating Alexander.”

I cradled my phone to my ear as I haphazardly dangled one leg over the edge of the bathtub. I turned the water on to a trickle. “I can promise you that I am not dating Anders.”

“What’s that noise? You’re too busy to have a conversation with me? You have to do other things at the same time?”

I rolled my eyes at her shameless guilt trip. “I’m getting ready to go out to dinner.”

“Are you in the shower?” she asked as I sloppily applied shaving soap to one leg.

“Nope, I’m just shaving my legs.”

“So, it’s a real date,” she said.

“No.” I groaned, wondering if she’d heard a word that I said. “I’m going to dinner with Anders professionally.”