Page 46 of How to Date a Prince

“Maybe talking to Katie, sometimes. Otherwise, I don’t.”

Thomas nods slowly, considering me. “Yeah. That explains a lot.”

“I need to deal with things on my own. Or ignore them. It’s just the way it is, Thomas. Whether I like it or not.”

He tilts his head, leaning ever so slightly closer. I’m echoing his movement before I know it. I shiver, considering him. If anything, he’s more stunning in full sun than the mysterious dark of last night. His T-shirt reveals fine biceps and forearms—there’s no mistaking the muscles I felt last night. But, if I’m honest, it’s not that he’s attractive—which he very much is—but he wants to know about me. The real me, not the made-up prince most people are fascinated by or wanting an angle to exploit in the press.

We search each other’s eyes. I desperately want to kiss him again. And yet, there may be cameras or someone in the woods or who knows what. We shouldn’t be together. I lick my lips. Even so, the way he makes me feel in this moment is special. Even if this is clearly a disaster in the making.

“When you smile, Auggie, it’s one of the most amazing things to see. You’re entitled to have a life and be happy, too, and have some fun, you know. Nobody would begrudge you that, I don’t think. Not even the King.”

I give him a sharp look. “You don’t know my father. My happiness isn’t on his short list of priorities.”

“Your father, by the way, doesn’t own you.”

I shake my head, tensing again. “You don’t understand. I can’t explain what you haven’t lived, Thomas. Believe me. It’s not an easy situation. I don’t have the freedoms that you do.”

Uni was the time I felt the freest, away from the expectations of my father. At uni, I had friends like Katie and banter and late nights eating kebabs in the street after a night of dancing. I’d stay up all night watching shows on my laptop or hanging out with my friends at the local pub, without consequence.

“You’re a person, not a prop.”

I bristle, shaking my head at the cut of his words. My shoulders tighten.

“You’re overreacting.”

“I’m overreacting?” I ask, taken aback.

“Who went high drama at the club? Or last week after?—”

“Thomas.” My voice is barely audible, shaky and raw. I stuff my hands in the pockets of my shorts. “We can’t be seen together. This is already too long, out here. Every minute just ups the chance they’ll record us.” I swallow hard, my voice unsteady. “I can’t be seen alone with you anymore.”

“That’s such a cop-out?—”

“This is my reality,” I snap hotly. “I must be King one day, which might be a lot sooner than I want. And I need to find a wife?—”

Oh my God, my mouth. My eyes widen in horror as Thomas stares at me, flushed with anger. I’ve said way too much. I whirl and hurry off deeper into the woods.

And so I walk, cursing myself to next week and beyond. But I’m caught in my life and not someone else’s. And I don’t have the freedom to let my guard down again on this set. Worse, Giselle has footage at least of us watching the sunset together from last week, and if she also has footage of what happened in the pottery bothy, my life is officially over.

ChapterEighteen

Iwalk for a long time, till my shoulders ease. Till I can draw a breath deep in my diaphragm. Till dusk comes. Even though I’m hungry, I can’t face going back to the house right now. Besides, an occasional skipped meal never hurt anyone.

When I finally calm down enough to face the house andRenaissance Managain, I beeline for my rooms and get ready for bed. I fling myself face down on the colorful handmade quilt. Eventually, despite my worries—does Gisele have footage of us, is outing me part of theRenaissance Manstoryline, do I risk talking to her and outing myself for real if she doesn’t actually know I’m gay and then runs wild with it—I pass out into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

In the middle of the night, there’s a heavy knocking at my door. My heart leaps into my mouth. It takes a moment to remember where I am, that Alyse is here overnight, standing guard. Unless she’s been taken out by a threat. Before I reach full-blown panic, despite my training in high-risk situations, including fears of kidnapping or worse, there’s Alyse’s calm voice.

“Auggie. I’m terribly sorry to disturb, but your friend insists on seeing you,” Alyse calls.

“Auggie?” Thomas’ voice.

Shit.

Well, Thomas wouldn’t have made it so close if Alyse thought he was a true threat. And unfortunately, that means she must have heard everything the other night with us in the bothy to know that we’re close. My face heats up.

“It’s okay, I’ll let him in,” I call back, throwing the covers back, and I climb down from the bed with its high mattress. I shiver in the cool air and hurry to the door. When I open it, both Alyse and Thomas stand there. I rub my eyes against the brightness of the corridor.

“Alright?” Alyse meets my gaze. I give a curt nod, and she steps back. Then, I look at Thomas, who’s obviously agitated.

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