Page 12 of The Wanted Prince

“The time stamp’s last night. Not from last Thursday.”

“So, someone messed with it. So they set me up.”

“No one saw you last night after ten p.m.” Ramirez brought up another clip, me and Laura. We were chatting one minute, then lost in the crowd. “This was the last you appear on surveillance until ten to midnight. The time of the theft.”

Hot shame surged through me, then cool relief. Then came frustration. I ground my teeth. I hadn’t dragged Laura into my mess. No one had seen us slip out the back. But I had no alibi other than her, no proof I could hold forth I hadn’t done this.

“I left early,” I said. “I didn’t feel well. I… Oh, my car! You must have caught that.”

Ramirez frowned. “Your car did leave the palace grounds just after ten thirty. But here, you can see, there’s a glare on the glass.” He pulled up a clip of my car pulling out, another car’s taillights obscuring my face. Laura had ducked down as we passed through the gates, avoiding the cameras, so her seat looked empty.

“One of the valets claims he drove your car home.” Father nodded at the screen and Ramirez killed it. “And we already looked at the tapes from your building. Nothing from the front door.”

Because we snuck in the back.

“You must have used the back door to obscure the hour. So you could claim you were home all night.”

I sagged, feeling tired. “Why would I do this? What would I stand to gain?”

Father shot me a flat look. “That’s my question for you.”

I locked eyes with him, searching for some hint of doubt. Some flicker of sympathy, of belief. Of kindness. All I saw there was anger and deep, sharp betrayal. That made me laugh, a loud, ugly bark.

Father’s eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”

I couldn’t explain to him I felt the same way, as angry as he did, and as betrayed. When I tried to speak, my voice cracked, and I swallowed. “You’d believe this of me based on one grainy clip?”

Father’s lips tightened, and I knew he had more. Evidence he’d held back from me to catch me out. Hoping I’d slip up, not knowing what he knew. Whoever had done this, they’d planned it out well, stitched me up so tight my own father believed it.

“We’ll investigate,” said Ramirez. “The Treasury Department and the Royal Guard. If you didn’t do this, you have no need to worry.”

“It will be handled discreetly.” Father wouldn’t look at me. He stood and turned away. My ears rang as he continued to speak. “You won’t be arrested, at least not at this time. But you should consider yourself confined to the palace. Your rooms are prepared. Ramirez will escort you.”

I thought I might vomit, or even worse, cry. I couldn’t shake that sense of myself as a child, covered in chocolate and thick, cloying shame. Father’s disapproval had made me cry then, but this was worse. This was real. It meant he still saw me as that sticky little boy, and not the man I’d fought to become. All I’d done had meant nothing, all my effort, my growth.

“Father,” I said, but no more words came. What was left to say?

“We’ll speak later,” he said, and turned and left. After a moment, Dom and Carlo went with him.

Ramirez approached me, flanked by two guards. I let them herd me up to my suite, but all I could think was, I had to escape. I had to get out of here. To get to who did this. Whoever they were, they’d framed me up tight, tight enough my own father was buying the lie. Ramirez as well, a man I’d worked with for years.

I had to catch the liar and shake the truth out, or I could lose my family and all I held dear.

CHAPTER 5

LAURA

Isat in the worst chair in Santaviedo, a stiff wicker garden chair, sipping my tea. If I’d stayed in New York, I’d be at Chao’s Bubble Tea Shack, sucking up boba through an oversized straw. Swapping tales with my work friends, from the editorial trenches. Not stuck at this endless, dull garden party, no one to talk to but Mother’s pointless friends. They only ever asked me two things — when I was moving home and when I’d get married.

I scanned the crowd for Hugo, but he was still on his phone. I’d hardly seen him without it since I stepped off my plane. Dad had vanished the second the party rolled in, disappeared out the back with his golf bag in tow. As for Mother, she was in full party mode, flitting from guest to guest, collecting their gossip. Like a nosy bee, I thought, and bit back a chuckle. It wasn’t funny, though. I’d come all this way, and I’d hardly had a moment alone with my family. I knew more of their lives from our halfhearted group chat than from a whole week spent in their house, and that felt wrong. Worse than wrong. Sad.

I set my cup down and reached for the pot, then changed my mind. I’d had enough tea. I was getting a headache from the caffeine, and from the sun beating down on my head. The scrape of the violins wasn’t helping any, thin chamber music punched through with laughter.

I stood up and started toward the house, but a clutch of my aunts had gathered on the back steps. If they caught me, they’d want to know what I was doing, who I was seeing, if I was still single. If I’d like to meet their good-looking nephews, who were also my cousins, and no. I would not. I changed course to avoid them, circling round the gazebo, heading under the myrtle trees toward the duck pond.

My headache eased in the shade, and away from the noise. I found myself breathing easier with the party behind me. Maybe I could stay out here until it was over. Find a bench by the pond and sit awhile. It’d be almost like back home in Central Park, one of those quiet spots where the tourists?—

“Thank God!” I felt, more than saw, movement behind me, a quick, darting shape. A hand on my wrist. I jerked my hand back. Drew breath to scream. Then my assailant spun me around, and he let me go, and he was Alessandro. I slapped at him.

---