Page 31 of The Wanted Prince

I was butthurt, I typed. So far, true enough. I came all that way and you were all busy, so I left a day early. Hope you weren’t too worried.

The dots popped straight up, Hugo responding. But before he could finish, two things happened at once. First, a fresh news alert flashed on my screen. Second, Alessandro stepped out of the shower. He called out for me.

“Laura? Hey, where’d you go?”

I might’ve made some sound, some kind of croak. My throat had gone dry, my stomach all queasy. The headline blared up at me, loud and accusing: MISSING PRINCE SUSPECT IN THEFT OF CROWN JEWELS. So, it was out. We were officially fugitives. It wouldn’t just be the press now we’d have to look out for. There’d be the police, and who else? Interpol?

“Laura?” Alessandro pushed through the French doors to the balcony. His hair was all tousled, roughly towel-dried. A drop of clear water gleamed in the hollow of his collarbone. I stared at it, torn between shock and desire. He’d never looked as sexy as he did right now, all mussed and damp, flushed from the shower. He frowned at the sight of me, his lips full and pouting.

“What’s wrong? Phone still out? Or, no, is it working?” He reached for my phone and I jerked away, thrusting it quickly behind my back. Alessandro’s frown deepened. “What is it? The photos?”

I shook my head. “They didn’t get us. Or, I mean, they did, but you can’t see our faces.”

“Then why don’t you want me to look at your phone?”

I tried to think of the right words to soften the blow. Had Francisco done this? Had he leaked the story? Decided he did want revenge after all?

“You’re scaring me.” Alessandro reached for my phone. I tried to keep it away from him, but he was too quick. He snatched it from my hand and turned it around to unlock it, thrusting the screen in my surprised face.

“It was bound to come out,” I said, but he wasn’t listening. He was speed-scrolling, thunderclouds gathering.

“I don’t believe this. I don’t?—”

“What does it say?”

“That’s not how it is with us. That’s not us at all.” The words came out ragged, his voice gravel-rough. I touched his arm, but he pulled away. “This is lies. It’s libel. When I find who wrote this…” He slammed my phone on its face, then picked it back up. Scrolled back up the article and read through again. I reached out, cautious.

“Alessandro, uh…”

“It’s called news, not fiction. They can’t just, they can’t—” He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. This time, when I touched him, he didn’t pull away. He shuddered all over and set my phone down, and closed his eyes and laid his hand over mine. “They’re saying I stole the damn thing out of spite. Out of envy, because Father’s been favoring Carlo. But that’s not, we’re not— There’s not any tension. There’s not any struggle over who gets the throne. It was never like that with us. We’re brothers, not rivals.”

“I know,” I said, and that was the truth. I’d known Alessandro most of my life, and Carlo and Dom for most of theirs. I’d hardly known the brothers to squabble, even when they were little and toys were involved. As for the throne, they wouldn’t fight over that. Alessandro was happy with his Treasury post. Dom was pursuing a law career. Carlo, I knew, hoped to stay with the army. They’d all take the throne if they were chosen, and they’d do it happily for the sake of their country, but they wouldn’t fight for it. Not with each other.

“There’s nothing from Father.” Alessandro looked wounded. “He can’t defend me, but he could refute the lies.”

“He still might,” I said. “Or Dom might, or Carlo.”

Alessandro sank down on the edge of the bed. “It said the palace declined to comment. So he had his chance and he chose not to take it.”

“He could be preparing his own statement. A press release.”

“That’s not how he works.” Alessandro hung his head. “There will be a press release, but it’ll be from the Treasury. From Leo Ramirez.”

“You work with him, don’t you?” I sat down beside him. Alessandro stiffened, but didn’t get up.

“He’s sort of my boss, in the sense I report to him.” He sighed. “It was awkward at first, but we figured it out. We made a good team, so this’ll hurt.”

I slid my hand up Alessandro’s stiff back. Rubbed gentle circles between his shoulder blades. “He’ll probably just say they’re investigating the matter.”

Alessandro sagged. “I know. That’s why it’ll hurt. He won’t get up there and say he trusts me, or we’ve worked together for years and he knows I wouldn’t do it. He can’t say any of that, but it’ll still hurt when he doesn’t.”

“Well, you could?—”

He surged up. “I hate this.” It came out a shout. Down the hall, someone murmured, and he cleared his throat. “I hate this,” he said again, barely a whisper. “I’ve always had my family, no matter what. My brothers, especially, I could always reach out. But now, if I do, I’ll be dragging them into this. Putting them in a position where they have to choose — do they betray me, or do they lie to Father? I can’t do that. I won’t. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“None of this is,” I said, keeping my tone even. Alessandro plopped down again, like his strength had expired. He hunched over, groaning, his head in his hands.

“Whoever did this, they really know me. They know how to hurt me. How to strike to my heart. Losing my family, I?—”

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