Page 23 of The Princess Trap
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Cherry threw herself onto the sofa, sinking into cushions made soft with age. Her parents had given her this sofa when she’d moved out. Almost all of her furniture was second-hand.
Jesus fucking Christ, he was aprince.
Cherry sucked in her cheeks and bit down, hard. Nothing about her current situation became any clearer.
He’d said the pictures were dealt with, but he couldn’t know that for sure. This was the modern age. Cloud technology and all that shit meant nothing was ever really gone. And even if itwasgone, did that matter? He’d told some journalist or whatever that they were engaged. A journalist who’d found them between two blocks of flats. All the guy had to do was hang around until morning, and he’d find out quickly enough who Ruben’s so-called fiancée was.
Of course, that might not matter. She’d never heard ofRuben, or Helgmøre—geography wasn’t her strong suit—so however famous he was over there, no-one in England would care, right?
Butshewas English. So maybe peoplewouldcare. Crap.
Cherry heaved herself up off the sofa and snatched her phone out of her bag, opening up her messages. The first thing that popped up was her family group chat.
Mum: Netflix date tonight, Maggie.
Magz: I haven’t forgotten!
Dad: Cherry where r u. We start at 10 o’clock.
Dad: …Here.
Dad: Maggie we start at 5 o’clock for u.
Cherry checked her watch. It was just past five, GMT. Lunch for her sister. Their parents, as usual, were worrying over nothing.
Imagine how they’d worry if they found out about tonight.
Cherry: Don’t worry, I’ll be there
Having committed to their virtual Netflix date, she left the chat and pulled up Maggie’s name.
Cherry: Problem.
She bit her lip, then continued.
Cherry: Secret.
Magz: Shit, you never pull secret. Finally done something wrong?
Cherry: Shut up. Not exactly.
Magz: So spill.
With a sigh, Cherry typed out an abbreviated version of the afternoon’s events. She didn’t mention Ruben’sfiancéecomment. Maggie’s outrage would be a fearsome and tiring thing.
One minute passed. Then another. And then the phone rang.
“Oh my God. Aprince?”
“You shouldn’t be calling. It’s too expensive.”
“Relax. It’s an internet call and I’m on wifi.” Cherry could almost hear her little sister’s eye roll, and it set her teeth on edge. She loved Maggie—but sometimes she envied her sister’s ability to ‘relax’. It was hard to chill out with financial ruin breathing down your neck.
But then, Maggie wouldn’t know anything about that. No-one wanted her to.
“Yes, he’s a prince,” Cherry sighed, pushing her envy away. “And knowing my luck, there’ll be pictures of us splashed across the papers tomorrow morning.”
