Page 48 of How to Date a Prince

I lift my jaw in challenge. “It’s not your work in pieces, is it?”

“It’s not, but?—”

“Why do you think you always know better than I do about what I need?” I challenge heatedly. “This ismylife. I didn’t want to come on this stupid show anyway. And you?—”

“Someone has to be held accountable for this.” Thomas’ jaw is set, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Like right the fuck now.”

“It’s incredibly late. Or early?—”

“Who cares? I’ll wake the crew up,” Thomas says, folding his arms over his chest.

“No. Don’t.” I glance around. Someone’s probably recording this right now. “I need to get out of here.”

“Whoever did this can go fuck themselves.”

“I need to go back to the house. I need to pack and call a car to come.”

“No way.” Thomas glares. “You can’t just leave like this. In the middle of the night.” His voice catches.

We glare at each other.

“And what about me?” he whispers.

I don’t breathe, just hold his gaze for a long moment, then nod curtly at the door. We retrace our steps back to the house in stony silence. It’s 4:00 a.m. now; a faint brightening to the east promises pre-dawn light, a soft orange on the horizon. We head upstairs together in the house, up the grand staircase in the entry, to the level with the bedrooms.

On the landing, we hesitate.

“I guess this is…?” Thomas says softly.

I search his eyes. My guts twist. If I’m honest with myself, which apparently seems to be a problem I’m grappling with, and mostly failing, I don’t want to be alone right now. And I can’t really call the palace in the middle of the night for a ride without it causing an incident. And then there’s my father to deal with. Worst of all, it means leaving Thomas behind. Which would be very sensible. And what my father would want.

I nod in the direction of my wing, brushing my fingertips with his. He lifts his eyebrows in question. I briefly tug his hand, and he follows me to my room, Alyse well behind us. We go to my suite, the only place on the estate where I’ve been assured there are no cameras or mics.

We step inside my room, lit only by the soft glow of a small table lamp by the entry. Thomas searches my eyes, calmer now. I’m still trembling with adrenaline.

“I won’t go tonight,” I murmur.

Thomas sags with relief. “That’s?—”

“Would you come to bed with me?” What little security I felt here has been shaken.

“Are you sure?”

I push the door shut behind him after Alyse takes up her usual position in the corridor. Thomas leans on the door, watching me. Which is good he’s not noticing anything else because the room is… not messy, exactly, but looking a little lived-in. The bedding has been turned down in my earlier restless sleep. Yesterday’s clothes are draped over a chair. A table by the window has my laptop and books I’m reading, along with my phone.

I gaze at him. We’re about the same height. His expression softens at the sight of me. And the way he looks at me makes me warm from the core of my body. I step forward, brush my mouth against his lips, yielding to mine, and I continue.

He puts his hands on my hips, then hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pajamas to pull me closer, hungrily returning my kiss. “We don’t need to—after what—if you—do you?”

“I just—I very much want you here, Thomas.”

“Interesting. My head’s spinning right about now with you.” He reaches out to trace my jaw. I lean into his fingers, shutting my eyes, savoring his touch.

“That… well, I’m glad you were with me tonight. When I saw the studio upended like that. It would’ve been harder alone.” I kiss him again, and he returns the kiss just as thoroughly.

I groan, pulling him into me, then towards the bed. Then I stop abruptly. “Wait.”

He lifts his eyebrows at me.

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