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“You must admit, it’s humiliating for the prince. Being tossed aside for a scuba diving instructor. A man twice your sister’s age—”
“Prince Alden ended the engagement.” I take a steadying breath. “And he let my sister go to be with her love. What’s humiliating about that? It’s noble.He’snoble. And let’s be clear, there will be a mile-long line of eligible ladies vying for his hand.”
The reporter’s eyes glitter. “Willyoube in that line?”
A pang shudders through me. I swallow down the pain and keep my tone light. “As this interview proves, I’ve caused the prince enough trouble. But I wish him all the best.”
Alden
For thirty-two years I’ve been tightly controlled and on perfect behavior. I suppose I was overdue a scandal, and compared to what some others in my position have been caught doing in recent years, a public kiss with Beatrice seems tame.
On balance, though, I think I would rather have been photographed vomiting in a hedgerow after a palace event. The press would still have their circus, but I wouldn’t be forced to look at a photo of Beatrice non-stop.
It’s bad enough missing her privately. Feeling this constant dull ache in my chest. I fucking hate doing it under a microscope.
A quick rap on my study door dredges me from my thoughts. I lean back in my desk chair, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Come in, Danika.”
I already know it’s her. Everyone else has been avoiding my terrible moods.
“Still brooding, Your Highness?” The aide slips into the room, a clipboard balanced on one forearm and two mugs clutched in the other hand. “I brought us two lemongrass teas. Your favorite.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Wonderful.”
“And I’m not afraid to tip them over your head, Your Illustriousness. So lose the sass.”
A reluctant grin tugs my lips, and I catch my aide’s eye as she sinks into the chair opposite.
“Thank you, Danika. Really.”
She grunts, pushing a mug toward me. I snatch it up and take a long sip, hot fluid flooding my tongue and aching throat. The pulsing headache in my temples eases slightly.
She’s right. Idofeel better.
“Your girl had another interview this afternoon.” My aide’s tone is light, but I stiffen, as I do each time Danika insists on calling Beatricemy girl.“She did very well.”
“Of course she did.” Beatrice could conquer anything, especially some stupid interview. I may have called her meek in my anger, but she’s proven me wrong time and time again since then.
“Have you spoken to her yet?”
I frown at the wall. Danika sighs, and when I glance over at her, for once my aide looks her age. She should take more time off. Maybe an extended paid vacation. I open my mouth to suggest it, but Danika speaks first, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, Alden. I was certain she would call you. I gave her your private number, you know. I was so sure of it.”
Ah. Well.
“Beatrice did call me.” I fight to keep my tone casual, but my heart’s thumping harder. Beating faster at the memory. “When the photos first leaked. I was… still annoyed. And a little frosty.”
Complete silence.
I wince.
Then: “And I suppose,” Danika grits out, irritation snapping through each word, “you think that sitting by your phone at all hours, she’ll magically call you again? For goodness’ sake, Alden! Haven’t you punished her enough?”
“I’m notpunishingher…”
I trail off, the truth settling over me like a cold mist. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing, intentionally or not. I’ve been punishing her.
And yes, Beatrice screwed up. She tricked me, and lied to me, and she let me blunder into the biggest PR disaster of my life. More than that, she broke my heart.
