Page 12 of A Royal Disaster
This plan has disaster written all over it.
Liam was royal and poised and sexy as hell. Pretty much her opposite in every way that counted, according to the internet. She was going to make a complete fool of herself. After all, that was her MO. And this time, she’d be doing it in the public eye, because if she’d learned anything these last two days, it was that the world was always watching when it came to the Valerian heir. And the world? Not so forgiving.
Maybe she could cancel. It wasn’t too late to back out, was it? After all, he was a freaking prince. He could find another dinner date, couldn’t he?
Her phone vibrated on the top of the dresser, reminding her exactly why she’d agreed to this ludicrous plan. Today alone she’d been tagged in hundreds of “Mad Eyes Murphy” memes, trolled about her artwork, and received seventeen one-star reviews on Yelp—from reviewers she was certain had never stepped foot in the studio.Seventeen.
If there was any chance this fake dating scheme could work, she had to at least try.
And shewastrying. She was wearing heels, for fuck’s sake. And a dress. She would’ve been far more comfortable in leggings or something with a stretchy waistband, but she’d pulled out all the stops, stuffing herself into the only little black dress she owned. She sighed and smoothed the fabric over her hips. She hadn’t worn the dress in three years—not since her college graduation—and she’d gained a few pounds. No matter. She’d rock the hell out of her curves…as long as she didn’t trip over her own two feet.
She practiced walking from one side of the room to the other, her heels beating a staccato rhythm on the hardwood floors. She was just starting to get the hang of it when Nia poked her head in, causing her to roll her ankle and stumble onto the bed.
Nia slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Your date has arrived, milady.”
“Very funny,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She straightened and smoothed her skirt again. The damnable thing inched up every time she so much as breathed. Why did women’s clothing have to be so binding? Male designers, that’s why. The same reason women got screwed out of pockets on the regular. Just two more reasons she loved her overalls, which were draped over the back of a chair by the window. She eyed them longingly.
“Don’t even think about it,” Nia warned, moving to position her body between Lena and the paint-splattered denim. “You look great. His Royal Highness won’t know what hit him.”
“That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.” Lena gave her reflection one last look in the mirror. She’d tied her hair back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and a few long tendrils had escaped to frame her face. It didn’t exactly scream future princess, but she wasn’t going to change everything about herself just to please a fake boyfriend.
Or any boyfriend, for that matter.
“Only you would consider a date with the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor a mess.” Nia gave a dramatic sigh, reminding Lena she needed to be more careful with her words. After all, she was supposed to be falling for the handsome royal. “Do you know how many women would kill to be in your place?”
“At least seventeen, judging by today’s Yelp reviews,” Lena quipped, doing her best to ignore the guilt that squeezed her heart like a vise. She hated lying to Nia, but Liam had made it clear she couldn’t tell anyone about their dating arrangement. Besides, she didn’t have a choice. The tax bill was due in two months. If business didn’t pick back up, Chad’s lawsuit would be a moot issue because she’d be screwed—royally.
No, she wouldn’t allow that to happen. She had to save the studio. It was her home.
“I wouldn’t worry about the trolls,” Nia said, flashing a mischievous grin. “The prince brought muscle, so I’d say you’re in good hands tonight. Big, delicious hands.”
Judging by the smug look on Nia’s face, the “muscle” in question would be tagged as a hottie-in-the-wild on her social accounts the minute they walked out the door. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep His Royal Highness waiting,” Lena said, grabbing her phone off the dresser and stuffing it in her purse as they made their way down to the studio.
When they entered, Liam stood with his back to them, studying the display in the front window. It was a series of negative space paintings she’d done in Central Park. Despite the iconic location, it was unlikely he’d recognize it. She hadn’t included well-known landmarks like Bow Bridge or Belvedere Castle. No, she’d been drawn to the quiet spaces and people who brought it to life. That was the true magic of her city, but could the prince see it?
The local galleries hadn’t, and she had a stack of rejection letters to prove it.
Lena’s attention shifted to the two beefy guards blocking the front door, their hard eyes fixed on her. She tried not to fidget, but the weight of their combined stares was…heavy. Did they really think she was a danger to the prince? The guy had at least eight inches and sixty pounds on her. Then again, they’d probably seen the tabloids, so she couldn’t exactly blame them for being wary.
“Your Royal Highness,” Lena said, hating the way her words seemed to waver. What was wrong with her? She was a strong, confident woman. She wasn’t going to be cowed by a bunch of titles.
Still, talking to him had been so much easier when he was a giant eggplant and she didn’t have a clue who he was.
Liam turned and his gaze skated over her like a lover’s caress, leaving a trail of liquid fire in its wake. “Please, call me Liam.” He gestured to the men by the door, and Lena took the opportunity to study them. Both were made of hard lines and sharp angles, with close cropped hair, deceptively bored expressions, and matching black suits. “My bodyguards,” he said. “Ethan and Jack.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” Lena smiled broadly as she stepped out from behind the counter. The guards nodded in acknowledgment and remained silent.
Tough crowd.
“Shall we go, then?” Liam asked, a knowing smile curving his lips as he closed the distance between them.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Lena admitted, allowing him to loop his arm through hers and steer her toward the door.
“You look lovely, Elena.” He lowered his voice, as if the compliment was for her ears alone, and she couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her veins at the sound of her name on his lips. “I couldn’t have picked a better fake American girlfriend if I’d been given a catalogue.”
Lena snickered, and just like that, all the tension she’d been carrying seemed to ease from her body like watercolors bleeding over canvas.
“Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Nia called after them in a singsong voice. Lena glanced over her shoulder and gave her friend the side-eye. Nia pretended not to notice, giving a delicate little finger wave in return.
