Page 7 of Redemption of a Prince

Once inside, Nikki struggled to maintain her self-control.

There was no point in breaking down over decisions made nearly fifteen years earlier.

Throughout the process of making dinner and eating alone at the small table near the window, where she gazed into the twilight and stared at the twinkling lights in the marina, she held it together.

But when she went into the living room, she saw the picture frames. The ones with innocuous photos of New Ancora, including the palace lit up at night around Christmas and another with it lit up during a rare snow storm.

Resolute, she turned away and clicked on the telly. For two hours, she lost herself in the evening’s sitcoms and one courtroom drama.

After the last one ended, she wanted to go to bed, but knew sleep would elude her in a way it hadn’t in years.

She tried anyway but about midnight decided it was time for ice cream.

The tears remained at bay until the bowl was empty and she set it in the sink.

When she turned, the picture frames caught her attention again.

Nikki knew better. It would only end in sobs and frustration and self—loathing, but she did it anyway.

She took the frames off the wall to look at the pictures hidden behind the generic ones.

By the time she sat on the couch the tears had started. When she took the second photo out from behind the palace in winter photo, they were streaming down her cheeks.

Her shoulders shook as sobs wracked her body.

She shouldn’t have gone. She wouldn’t have run into the prince.

The memories would have stayed buried if she hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen him.

Eventually, her upper body slid sideways until she was curled up on the lounge.

The sobs slowed, though the tears still leaked from her aching eyes.

Finally, sleep found her as she clutched the photos in her hand.

Someone who had taken a piece of her heart and kept it, whom she saw regularly but had never met.

When she woke to sun streaming in the window, Nikki countermanded the prayer she’d said for the last few weeks.

This time, she prayed she wouldn’t be offered the job.

She wouldn’t be able to turn it down if she was. It meant too much to her.

But she needed to have as little contact with the royal family as possible.

Her mental and emotional well-being depended on it.

* * *

In the twenty-fourhours since he saw Nikki, Crown Prince Ezekiel of New Sargasso hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.

How long had it been since he’d seen her?

Thirteen-and-a-half years since he’d talked to her.

Thirteen long, painful years.

Almost fourteen now.

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