Page 75 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“What are you saying, Lilah?”

“We’ve only known each other a week. Not even that exactly.”

“And?”

“Like the princess said, this might be your only opportunity to make peace with that side of your family. To get to know them. Losing me is obviously one of the conditions. I don’t know why I bother them that badly. But it’s not a big deal... We’re not even really dating.” With each word, my heart and hopes sink further. He’s not stopping me. He’s not saying anything. “Ali, you should take this chance if that’s what you want to do. What I’m trying to say is, it’s okay with me.”

He blinks. “It’s okay with you if we never see each other again?”

“I, um... Yeah. If that’s what you want.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Were we ever really together?” I ask with a wince. “I thought that was still up for debate.”

He holds out a hand and pulls me to my feet. But he doesn’t take a step back, he doesn’t give me any room. I am stuck between him and the sofa. “That’s very self-sacrificing of you, Leannan. Throwing yourself on the sword like that so I can have a relationship with the man who has done nothing but regret my existence since the day I was born. That’s when he wasn’t of a mind to try and manipulate me and meddle in my life, of course.”

I remain silent, not sure how to respond.

“Are you rethinking your very generous offer?” he asks.

“A little. Yes.”

He nods.

I place my hands against his chest and say, “Let me rephrase all of that. Ali, what do you want to do?”

“I’ve already told you what I want to do in the immediate future. My thoughts on the matter haven’t changed.”

“Dinner and drinks. Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Do you have a bottle of good champagne?”

“Several. But I bought them for you. And the last thing we need is Mother and the princess hanging around here getting pissed and reminiscing about the good old days.” He leans down, putting his face close to mine. “It’s the middle of the night in London, but I’ll try to get a message to him. Tell him and his people to back off and leave you alone.”

“The king doesn’t scare me.”

The edge of his mouth rises. “He does a little.”

“Maybe a little,” I admit. “But he’s not going to stop me.”

“That’s my girl.”

17

Alistair’s bedroom is amazing. Floor-to-ceiling French doors lead out to a balcony overlooking the back garden. More of the high ceilings and gray walls like downstairs, but the effect is softened by the furniture. Both the bed and side tables are solid wooden pieces matched with another large white lounge. He obviously spends most of his time up here. There’s evidence of his presence. The huge unmade bed with white linens, bedside tables piled high with books, and an empty teacup and saucer. Because of course he drinks tea. A discarded T-shirt lies on the blanket box at the foot of the bed. I definitely do not sniff it, because that would be weird and wrong. Like it’s my fault the man smells divine.

He had my shopping bags brought upstairs to his walk-in closet. So many packages. But I refuse to feel guilty for spending his cash. He goaded me into going hard. He knew what he was doing. None of this, however, explains why he finds me barefoot and bewildered. Just surrounded by stuff. An overwhelming number of new things.

“I got through to his personal secretary,” says Alistair, appearing in the doorway, phone in hand. Judging by the set of his jaw, his mood is set to unhappy. “Told him to call off the private investigator or else.”

“Or else what?”

“I haven’t quite decided,” he admits. “But he seemed to take the threat seriously. I can’t protect you from the paparazzi. Not really. But I won’t have you being followed by a private fucking investigator.”

“Thank you. Though why they would require someone to continue reporting on me if I am so boring and subpar would be nice to know.”

He leans against the door frame and crosses his arms. “Lilah, what are you doing?”

“Cataloging. I organized them by color, then by outfit, and now by vibe.”

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