I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. I can do this. I have to do this. For the sake of my career, for the sake of the story.

Even if it means breaking my own heart in the process.

CHAPTER 13

LUCA

Iwake with a start, my heart racing and my sheets drenched in sweat. The crown already feels heavy on my head, even though my coronation is still weeks away. I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion that seems to cling to my every muscle.

Dragging myself out of bed, I practically crawl into the shower, where the scalding water cascades over my skin. As the steam rises around me, my thoughts drift to Hailey, to the night we spent together in New York. The way her body felt pressed against mine, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps as I explored every inch of her.

I lean my head against the cool tile, trying to push the memories away. I can’t afford to be distracted, not now. My country needs me, needs a king who is focused and strong. But even as I try to clear my mind, I can’t shake the image of her face, the way she looked at me with such trust and desire.

I step out of the shower and towel off, my movements mechanical as I go through the motions of getting dressed. I choose a dark suit, the fabric crisp against my skin. I know I’ll be in meetings all day, discussing trade agreements and diplomatic relations. There’s no room for error, no room for weakness.

As I knot my tie, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My face is drawn, my eyes shadowed. I look like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And in a way, I suppose I am.

Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders. I may be exhausted, but I won’t let it show. I have a duty to my people, to my country. And I won’t let them down, no matter the cost.

It’s quiet as I make my way down to the palace dining room, my footsteps echoing on the marble floors. The scent of coffee and pastries fills the air, but my stomach churns at the thought of food. I’m running on fumes, but I can’t afford to slow down.

As I enter the room, I freeze. Hailey is already there, seated at the long table. She looks up as I enter, her brown eyes widening slightly. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the tension thick between us.

That’s right. I forgot — she’ll be joining me at mealtimes, her attendance part of her constant shadowing.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” she says finally, her voice cool and professional.

I nod, taking my seat at the head of the table. “Good morning, Ms. Warren. I trust you slept well?”

She gives a tight smile. “Yes, thank you. The accommodations are lovely.”

We lapse into silence as the servants bring out breakfast. I pick at my food, my appetite gone. I can feel Hailey’s eyes on me, studying me, and I fight the urge to squirm.

“I’m looking forward to shadowing you today,” she says, breaking the silence. “I’m sure it will be very enlightening.”

I glance up at her, trying to read her expression. But she’s giving nothing away, her face a mask of polite interest.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid it won’t be very exciting,” I say, pushing my eggs around my plate. “Just a lot of meetings and paperwork.”

She shrugs. “That’s the job, isn’t it? I’m here to document it all, exciting or not.”

I frown, something about her tone rubbing me the wrong way. “And what exactly do you hope to document, Ms. Warren? The tedium of royal life?”

Her eyes flash, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the passion I remember from our night together. But then it’s gone, replaced by cool professionalism.

“I hope to document the truth, sir. Whatever that may be.”

It’s like a strange game we’re playing, an effort to see who can be more formal, more cool and collected.

I lean back in my chair, studying her. She meets my gaze unflinchingly, and I feel a grudging respect for her. She’s not going to make this easy on me.

But then again, nothing about this is going to be easy. I have a country to run, a crown to wear. And Hailey Warren is just one more complication I don’t need.

The first meeting of the day is with my advisors to discuss the upcoming coronation. I try to focus on their words, but my mind keeps drifting to the woman sitting beside me, her pen scratching quietly against her notepad.

I can feel the heat of her body, so close to mine. I remember the feel of her skin against my own, the taste of her lips. Clenching my jaw, I do my best to banish the memories.

“Sir?” Stefan’s voice snaps me back to the present. “Do you have any thoughts on the guest list?”