Page 71 of Fallen Crown

Tucker isn’t like that, though. She puts up a front like she couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions—she used to be like that with me—but now that I know her, I realize her attitude is a decoy. Her parents’ poor morals and ethics seem to have created this intense desire to be better. If I dragged her down, she’d never forgive me, so I keep my lips to myself in public and my dick, mostly, in my pants in private. Part of me is a bit surprised she’s even allowed us to get this far. She is a puzzle I’m slotting together one piece at a time.

At the edge of the washrooms, I wait for her. The bathroom door bangs, and someone close to me calls Maren’s name. Her steps stutter, and I can’t see her yet, but I sense she’s close. Just out of reach. If I appeared out of the shadows right now, I’d give too much away.

“What’s up, Emery?” Maren says, and there’s wariness in her voice.

“Wanted to congratulate you. Rumors all over the racecourse about you and the prince concocting an affair for ratings and donations.”

“That’s what people are saying?”

My heart kicks at the notion of people talking about us. Despite what we’ve been doing, Maren will hate being a source of gossip.

“I notice you didn’t deny it. Careful the pretend doesn’t become real for you. I heard you’re getting divorced, but Prince Brice is not the kind of rebound anyone needs.”

“Oh? You know him, do you?” Maren’s tone is acidic. I’ve been on the receiving end of that burning sting.

“He’s been all over the gossip pages since he was a teenager. It’s not like it’s hard to see where this scheme is likely headed.” Emery scoffs. “I never thought you’d be the type to be swayed by glossy charm.”

“I’d be a lot more inclined to listen to your opinion if you actually knew him. You’re talking out of your ass.”

“He has an on-off fuck-buddy princess in Denmark, so I wouldn’t go pinning your hopes on landing a prince. You and I both know that lots of people confuse the camaraderie of teammates on a racecourse for something else only to realize later they’re wrong.”

I’m half tempted to emerge from the shadows and give Emery a piece of my mind. What’s happening between me and Tucker isn’t what she’s trying to label it. While I might not have a tidy label for the attraction we feel, it’s not what she’s calling it. I take a step before Tucker speaks up.

“I’m not pinning anything on anyone except my team thoroughly demolishing yours once again on the course. Shame you’ve tried to resort to some sort of inept rumor warfare. I’m not defending him to you, because you don’t deserve to know him.”

“I was trying to warn you. He’s a fuck boy.”

“Your ignorance is noted.”

Footsteps retreat from the edge of the washrooms.

“I would say enjoy the view of my ass on the course, but your team is so far back, you probably can’t see it without selling your soul to the devil,” Maren calls. “Assuming she hasn’t already done that,” Maren mutters.

When Tucker doesn’t immediately come around the edge of the washrooms, I lean against the corner of the building. “Tucker.”

She spins on her heel, and she walks toward me, but she doesn’t reach for me like she normally does, as though we can’t wait to get our hands on each other.

“You heard all that?” she asks.

“I did. You okay?”

“Am I okay?” She frowns. “Emery just made you seem awful, and you’re asking about me?”

“Haters gonna hate.” I shrug. “She’s not worth my time, but whatever you’re feeling is.” The tenseness in her frame is worrying. “You’re upset.”

“I hate that people are gossiping about me, and I hate that anyone thinks I’m naïve. I know what’s going on between us. They don’t, but I do.”

Suppose it’s good one of us knows because I don’t have a fucking clue what’s happening between us anymore. She’s top-shelf tequila, and I want to suck up every drop.

“Do you want me to explain Denmark?” I ask.

“You have a past, and I have a past. Given how I’ve been behaving, I don’t have much of a moral leg to stand on, do I?”

“Tucker, come on.” Unable to resist, I loop my arm around her middle and tug her against me. As far as I’m concerned, her morality hasn’t been comprised. The temptation to remind her what a shitty husband Enzo has been is almost more than I can bear, but I’ve learned from past experience. I don’t need more frost to coat the air between us, so I nuzzle her neck instead, and she bends into me.

“Denmark?” I suggest again. Technically, what I do in Denmark is a royal secret. Alex offered me up in a deal when he practically ditched Princess Simone at the altar. At the time, I didn’t care how the situation was represented to outsiders or how Freja and I might appear. One favor has turned into multiple, so our two monarchies keep up the appearance that what happened between Alex and Simone was carefully orchestrated rather than a giant “Oh, fuck.”

She shakes her head, and she draws my lips to hers. I tighten my embrace, and when she hops into my arms, I back her against the building while I kiss her. Letting this conversation go is probably the wrong thing to do, but I only get so many minutes with Tucker pressed up against me, and I’m not ruining them with unimportant details. Denmark is insignificant, has never come up in all our conversations. I knew there was gossip, but it had never touched our bubble before, and unless Freja calls me, the arrangement tends to slip my mind. The truth is complicated to explain, and no one outside the royal families would understand.