Page 29 of The King's Secret Baby

“We have a problem,” he says.

My stomach drops, a sense of dread washing over me. “What is it?” I ask, bracing myself for the worst, even though I don’t entirely know what that would be.

He holds out a tablet, his hand trembling slightly. “This was published online just a few minutes ago.”

I take the device, my eyes scanning the headline splashed across the screen. “Prince Luca Finds Comfort in American Journalist’s Embrace.” Below it is a picture of Hailey and me in the garden at night, standing close together, our faces illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight.

My heart hammers in my chest, a mixture of anger and fear coursing through my veins. How did they get this photo? The palace grounds are supposed to be secure, impenetrable to outsiders.

I look up at Stefan, my jaw clenched tight. “How did this happen?” I ask, my voice low and controlled.

“A photographer breached the wall somehow.” He stands straighter, and I can tell that, even though security is not his department, he’s disappointed that the breach happened. “Our team is looking into it. Right now, our main problem is this story.”

Hailey looks at the tablet, and her eyes go wide. “Oh,” she gasps.

“It’s trending on social media,” Stefan replies, his expression grim. “This should take precedence in our meeting today. I must ask… are you two?—”

“No,” Hailey and I both say at the same time. We exchange a look, the pink in her cheeks reflecting the heat in mine.

“A relationship does not look good for me right now,” I explain.

Stefan exhales sharply. “I agree with that.”

I nod, handing the tablet back to him. “Tell the others I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Stefan bows and hurries out, leaving me alone with Hailey. I turn to her, an apology on my lips, but she speaks first.

“Luca, I’m so sorry,” she says, her brow furrowed with concern. “I never meant for this to happen.”

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair.

“It’s not your fault,” I assure her. “But we need to be more careful. My people can’t think I’m being distracted, not now.”

She nods, her eyes searching mine. “I understand. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

I feel a surge of gratitude mixed with something deeper, something I can’t quite name. It’s risky, though, whatever it is, because it has to do with Hailey.

“Right now, I need you to stay here,” I tell her, my tone firm but not unkind. “Let me handle this.”

Disappointment flickers across her face. She’s supposed to be shadowing me, and here I am, asking her to not do her job.

This is different, though. Personal. And embarrassing. While it took the two of us to get into this mess, I just want to disappear for a while and fix it on my own.

She acquiesces, at least, and I stride out of the room, my mind already racing with strategies and responses to release to the press.

As I make my way to the meeting room, I can’t shake the unsettled feeling in my gut. The palace walls seem to close in around me, the weight of my responsibilities bearing down like a physical force.

I enter the room to find my advisors already seated, their faces grave. The palace publicist, a severe woman named Martha, clears her throat.

“Your Majesty,” she begins, her tone clipped. “We’ve already released a statement to the press, clarifying that your relationship with Ms. Warren is strictly professional.”

I nod, taking my seat at the head of the table. “Good.” Thank goodness my voice is steady despite the turmoil within. “We can’t afford any distractions right now.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie. Hailey is already a distraction, one I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try.

The meeting drags on, discussions of public perception and media strategy blurring together in my mind. But through it all, my thoughts keep drifting back to Hailey, to the warmth of her smile and the spark in her eyes.

Finally, the meeting adjourns, and I escape back to my private study. Hailey is gone from it, which I expected but find disappointing nonetheless — another longing that I despise myself for. I sink into my chair, rubbing my temples as I try to clear my head.

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