Page 15 of The Wanted Prince

He loosed a harsh chuckle. “Help me how?”

I bit my lip, unsure. What could I do? “I’ll shield you,” I said, and squeezed his hand tight. “Nobody’s tracking me. I can go places you can’t.”

“What about New York? Don’t you have work?”

I closed my eyes and saw my future split sharply in two. On one path, I laughed, oh, silly me. New York was waiting. I had to get back. On the other path?—

“I helped make this mess.” I turned to Alessandro. “If I hadn’t left with you, you’d have stayed at the ball. People would’ve seen you. Known you’re not the thief.”

Alessandro shook his head. “No. This was planned. They’d have distracted me somehow, got me out of the way. Then, it would have played out exactly the same.”

“If I can’t be your alibi, let me help clear your name.”

For a long moment, he sat there, brows knit in thought. Then his grip tightened, his hand crushing mine. “I can’t put you in danger.”

“We’ll be careful. You won’t.”

“But, with the press?—”

“They can’t be everywhere.”

Alessandro let out a long, ragged breath. He turned back to the wheel. “I’m not saying yes to this, at least, not yet. But, Laura, thank you. I mean that. Thank you.” His eyes locked with mine, then cut away. “I don’t know too many people who’d even offer to help. So whether we do this or I drop you off somewhere safe, I want you to know I’ll always be grateful.”

I don’t know if it was his words or the rasp in his voice, that raw emotion, that proved my undoing. But when Alessandro said thank you, warmth spilled through me. When he said it again, my heart skipped a beat. I knew in that moment I would see this through.

CHAPTER 6

ALESSANDRO

The rain started as we crossed the border into Spain, just a few drops at first, then a downpour. Then the wind picked up and the sky turned black. Forks of blue lightning fractured the sky. Laura flinched from the thunder and rubbed at her eyes.

“Headache?”

She nodded. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

I eased off the gas. Laura was right. The roads here were old, pitted with wear. Even on a good day, it paid to go slow. Now the wind gusted, driving sheets of water. I had to squint to be sure where the road was, and where the bank plunged down to the ditch. Worse still, my tires were old, their treads worn bare. They didn’t grip on the road when I slowed for a curve. I skidded and slid. Laura choked back a shriek.

“It’s all right,” I said, though my own heart was pounding. One more inch sidewise, we’d have gone in the ditch.

“We should pull over. Wait out the?—”

Thunder cut her off, so loud my ears rang.

“There should be a hotel,” I called, over the storm.

“What?”

“Up ahead!”

More thunder pealed. I slowed to a crawl. The rain was coming in curtains, loud on the glass. My wipers switched madly, but the road was a blur. I searched for the light I knew should be coming, the faded HOTEL sign swinging on its post. I’d have missed it entirely if Laura hadn’t shouted.

“Isn’t that it?”

I pumped my brakes. “Where?”

She pointed back down the road, at a huddled gray shape. The ghost of a building picked out in rain.

“I think their power’s out,” she said.

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