Page 56 of Fake Dating the Prince

Flip was already out the door.

At this early hour, the security line was just starting to form as weary business travelers in work suits shuffled blearily along until they could get their tepid airport coffee. But Flip had a diplomatic passport, security clearance, and no carryon to check through.

“Everything in order, Your Highness,” the security attendant told him as he handed back his phone with the mobile boarding pass he’d downloaded in the car. “Have a nice—”

But the second Flip had his phone back, he was sprinting down the terminal, cursing his stupid expensive shoes for having the type of sole that slid precariously on smooth floors. Gate A7—he needed to get to A7—

He skidded around the corner just in time to see an airline employee open the door to the Jetway. “Wait.”

The passengers in the seating area turned toward him, faces painted in mirror images of mild surprise—surprise that turned to shock when they recognized that the disheveled man with the mismatched ensemble and unshaven face was their crown prince.

At least three people took out their phones.

“Wait,” Flip repeated dumbly, and then called on all of his reserves to project an aura of calm as he approached the desk so he could speak more privately. Several other passengers watched him avidly, and perhaps they could read lips, but he couldn’t help that. He needed information. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly to the desk attendant. “But could you tell me, please, if Brayden Wood is on that plane?”

“Your Highness,” squeaked the freckle-faced young man who had just opened the Jetway door. He must have batlike hearing, or else the acoustics in there were incredible. Damn it. “It’s not our policy—”

“Oh shut up, Stefan,” said the woman at the desk. Her nametag read Danielle. She looked back at Flip. “He’s not on my passenger manifest, sir.”

Right. Of course. “Thank you very much,” Flip told her, trying not to let on that his world was crumbling.

The sympathy on her face let him know he hadn’t fooled her. “Would you like to board, sir? Our VIPs are always allowed priority boarding.”

He shook his head. “Thank you, no. I won’t be traveling today. An urgent matter has come up.”

“I understand. Have a pleasant day, sir.”

He didn’t know quite what to do when he walked away from the desk. His chest felt tight, and panic bubbled below the surface. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned this going. How could he be too late?

He swallowed hard and forced himself to accept the possibility that Brayden might be gone for good. The airport was almost empty. He felt sure that if Brayden were there, he’d have seen him. Which meant Brayden’s flight had already left.

But it was a very small airport, and Brayden had a window of only a few hours. If Celine had dropped Brayden off here, and if he’d gotten on a plane instead of, say, taking a taxi somewhere else—

A screen above him showed the day’s scheduled departures. One was boarding now, with three more scheduled throughout the day.

Five were marked DEPARTED—ON TIME.

And suddenly Flip knew where Brayden had gone.

EVENwhen he rolled his suitcase under the double bed in his hotel room, Brayden couldn’t quite believe he’d gone through with it. For the first time since he’d begun traveling, he’d actually followed through on that promise to himself—if I can’t stay where I am, I’ll go back to someplace I loved.

This wasn’t exactly the place, of course. Brayden couldn’t afford to stay in a glass igloo overlooking a valley, especially not if he were really going to quit his job. He had a view of a snowy parking lot, and considering the occupancy rate of the hotel around the holidays, he was lucky he had that. But the room was clean, and the hotel had a package that included ski or snowboard rental. He’d spent the afternoon on the slopes, losing himself in the hush of snow under his feet and the sting of powder on his face, pushing his body until everything ached. No one recognized him with his goggles on. It was practically paradise.

He’d have had a lot more fun if Flip were there too.

Maybe he should have just gone home, but his family wouldn’t return until after New Year’s, and he couldn’t face his empty apartment.

At the moment, though, his empty hotel room wasn’t any more appealing. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he didn’t want to be alone either, especially not alone and cold and wet.

Fortunately Brayden’s travels had taught him one thing—ski resorts always had a bar. And a strong drink by a roaring fire sounded like heaven.

THEbar was a bust. Sitting next to a crackling wood fire with a hot toddy only made him long for the evenings he’d spent with Flip, and the ache inside him deepened.

He’d thought the sauna would present the same issue, but it wasn’t intimate like the one at their glass igloo. The quiet drone of conversation—mostly in Finnish—soothed him. He leaned his head back against the wall and let the heat and steam loosen his aching muscles.

The door opened and a hotel employee stuck his head in and said something in Finnish to the guys sitting next to the door. They exchanged looks and got up to follow.

Brayden closed his eyes and tried to plan for his future. If he quit his job, what would he do? He could probably find work as a translator, either for the government or privately. But his heart wouldn’t be in that any more than it was in his current job, and he wouldn’t have the travel benefits to keep him happy enough to fake it. He could get a teaching degree, but then what? Teaching jobs weren’t exactly easy to come by, even if he had nepotism on his side.

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