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‘Yup. We’re headed to Lycander first thing.’
The words were a reminder of what this was all about. The reason for their role-play was to create an illusion, to enable him to keep his deal with Marcus.
‘There’s no point hanging about—especially as I want to pre-empt any publicity about the will.’
The private jet was already booked. Marcus had offered the use of a royal helicopter, but Stefan had been resolute in his refusal. Until he sussed out whether Frederick was on the level he would accept nothing from the monarchy.
‘I can’t just pack up and go at such short notice. I have a job and...’
‘I am sure Lamberts will understand—especially given the publicity potential. If they kick up a fuss negotiate. Say you’ll use them to help with the wedding.’
All trace of laughter had disappeared from her eyes now. ‘Is everything a deal to you?’
He rose to his feet. ‘Everything in life is a deal. You’d do well to remember that.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Holly unclicked her seat belt as the jet cleaved its way through the clouds. The whole idea that she was aboard a private jet seemed surreal; in fact the whole situation seemed to personify the idea of a waking dream.
The past day they had been caught up in a whirl of arrangements—conference calls with Marcus Alriksson, packing, planning, plotting... Oddly, the most real event had been their time in the Physic Garden. Great—how messed up was her head when that role play felt real?
A glance at Stefan and her breath caught in her throat. Damn the man for the way he affected her hormones. Their kiss was still seared on her brain—just the thought of it was enough to tingle her lips, send a shimmer of desire over her skin. But it was a dead-end desire and she knew it—it was imperative that she focus on reality. Actual cold, hard facts.
This marriage was to be undertaken for legal reasons and the wedding itself was to be a publicity stunt—a means for the exiled Prince to stage a return.
A sudden sense of empathy surfaced in her. If this was surreal to her...
Tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear, she looked away from the window and towards him. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine.’
‘Hang on...’ Reaching out, she prodded his chest and a fizz jolted through her, demonstrating that their attraction was still alive and kick-boxing.
‘What are you doing?’
‘A check to see if you’re made of granite or some strange alien substance. Because, assuming you are flesh and blood, you must be feeling something other than “fine”. You haven’t been to Lycander in eight years...you’re about to be reunited with your brother...you—’
‘I’m fine. It’s just a place like any other.’
But his gaze couldn’t quite hold hers, and for a tell-tale second his eyes scooted to the window, as if to gauge their direction, estimate the time that remained until they got there.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you can be fine.’
‘You can believe what you want.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, but how about we change the subject? Go through the plan of action?’
‘Distraction therapy?’
‘Whatever.’ But his tone belied the word, held a hint of a smile. ‘Let’s just do it.’
‘OK.’ Holly ticked the points off on her fingers. ‘First up, a meet-and-greet and a joint press interview with general questions.’
Stefan nodded. ‘Marcus will be there, and his wife April. She’ll take us off to coach us for the television interview.’
‘What about Frederick?’
‘He and Sunita are on a trip to India—they have an educational charitable foundation out there. I told Marcus I’d rather postpone the touching reunion scene until I’ve had a chance to look around...see if I want to support him.’
Holly glanced at him, caught the note of bitterness. ‘You must be nervous about seeing him again?’
