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“Yes. Well, sort of. I came back because of the job. Hysani pays really well, and I need money. Babies are expensive, and I didn’t know if there were rules here about child support. My visa is good for several years, so I thought I could at least get started…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re certain it’s mine?”
“Yes, it’s yours. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you want, but really, maybe I should just tell you that it’s not. That might make everything easier. I don’t think I’m up for the task of raising a royal baby.”
“Aubrey,” he said, searching for the patience that was usually so easy to find. “Do not lie to me.”
“I’m not. It’s yours. I’m just willing to lie to everyone else. Well, not Gwen because she’s my best friend, and she works with your sister which makes things complicated. And Hysani knows now, obviously. This is a disaster. A complete disaster. Maybe I should just fly back to the States.”
“No, you won’t be doing that. You’ll stay here, and we’ll marry.”
Aubrey started to sway, and when Hysani reached up to steady her, Jarah hissed. Hysani pulled his hand back and glared.
“Sorry, I think I need to eat something. I haven’t eaten in like ten hours. Plane food is the worst.”
She turned, and Jarah reached out and snagged her hand. “Hysani will get you some food. Afterward, we will go to the palace so you can meet my parents. They will not like that you’re an American. It will be easier if I tell them we have been dating in secret…”
“I’m not hallucinating,” she said suddenly and shook her head. “You’re really talking about this. You’re really suggesting marriage.”
“It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order.”
The panic melted away, and she pulled her hand from his. “No.”
* * *
It seemed that most people didn’t tell Jarah no, but Aubrey had already done it several times, so she figured she’d just throw the word out there once more. Especially since the conversation was taking an absurd turn.
Marriage? She was going to marry the crown prince? Not a chance.
While Jarah stared at her, clearly still processing her refusal, she hurried from the room and down the stairs. The party was back in full swing, and she didn’t want to ruin it. Apologizing to Gwen, she excused herself, citing a sudden illness, and hurried outside to wave down a taxi.
She was proud of herself. She made it all the way home and closed herself in her room before she gave in to a full-blown meltdown. In the shower, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to sort through it all.
Dreams of running her grandmother’s vineyard?
Strike that.
Have a casual fling with a gorgeous stranger with zero consequences?
Strike that, too.
Find a prince and live happily ever after?
That had never been on the list. Because this was the twenty-first century, and that was a fairytale.
Romantic nonsense, as someone she knew would say.
Groaning, she sank to the floor of the shower. “You really know how to screw things up, Aubrey Bennet.”
“Telling me no is not how to get things back on track.”
Screaming, Aubrey yanked back the curtain and stared. “What are you doing here?”
Jarah leaned against the sink, arms crossed, and stared at her. “You left in the middle of a conversation with a member of the royal family. That’s treason, according to some very old laws.”
“That does not give you permission to break into my apartment!”
“Another old law says it does.”
