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But the queen shook her head. “I want the press focused on John. I won’t have him, or his achievements, eclipsed by the goings-on ofsome common entertainer. Keep her out of sight. When the festivities begin, she’ll be just another face in the crowd. Like the other musical acts.”
It was clear his grandmother had never met Duchess. If she had, she’d’ve known there was no way the rapper could ever fade into the background.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“No. Louisa will be in touch with your updated schedule of appearances.”
He nodded, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. Another two hours of his day in exchange for a fifteen-minute audience.
“Oh, and Jameson?”
Almost to the door, he turned.
“I’ve always admired you for your insistence on being judged by your own actions and not resting on the royal family’s laurels. God knows, your aunt and uncle could benefit from a similar mind-set. But in the end, we are all defined by our membership in this family. Who we are, where we come from, our prestige, our very position in society, is built upon that association.”
He stared at her, unsure of her meaning or where she was leading to.
“I can’t say it enough: this celebration is important. It’s possible the future of the British monarchy depends on it. I won’t let my children’s antics sully it. And now that you’re the face of the event, I won’t allow you to, either. Your father couldn’t control himself when it came to beautiful women who traded on their sexuality. Don’t give in to any genetic compulsion pulling you in that direction.”
Shock almost felled him. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
“Excuse me?”
“She’s in your home, but she does not belong to you. Keep your hands to yourself. I will not allow hurt feelings or bruised egos to mar this event. The last thing I need is another salacious scandal involving a prince of the royal family.”
With that nuclear edict deployed, his grandmother returned her attention to Louisa, leaving him alone to deal with the toxic emotional fallout.
JAMESON STRODE INTOthe house, irritation simmering beneath his skin.
Who had he offended? Had he kicked a kitten or stolen a kid’s toy? Was that why karma insisted on punching him in his bollocks?
He headed straight to his office and poured a drink. He’d been minding his business. Keeping to himself. Doing everything the queen had initially praised him for.
And yet he was the one shouldering a disproportionate amount of responsibility for something that had nothing to do with him and hadn’t been his idea.
She’s in your home, but she does not belong to you. Keep your hands to yourself.
Did the queen know what she was asking? He’d like to see her bloody well try it!
He took a sip of whisky and savored the burn. He knew what he was supposed to do, and he’d do it. After all, his sovereign had issued the order. There was no other viable choice. Plus, he could help thousands of people and do his part for the environment, as his grandfather would’ve wanted.
He just needed to keep his desires—and hands!—to himself.
On the desk, his phone buzzed. He glanced over, surprised to see Dani pop up on the screen. Though Louisa had ensured they’d hadeach other’s information after Dani’s arrival, this was the first time she’d actually texted him. He took another swig before swiping to see what she wanted.
DANI:Can you do me a favor?
Frowning, he responded:That depends.
DANI:Wow! This explains what everyone says about British hospitality.
JAMESON:What do they say?
DANI:Nothing. That’s the point.
Fighting the urge to smile, he typed:What can I do for you?
DANI:I’d poured myself some champagne but left it in the kitchen. Can you bring it to me?
