Page 16 of A Royal Disaster
“Whatever.” Lena rallied her determination. She was not going to let the prince one up her, no matter how much fun they were having. “My middle name literally meansthe unfortunate one.”
“I’m named after a king who shat himself to death,” Liam said, not missing a beat.
Clearly, he’d given it some thought over the years.
Lena grinned sweetly. “And your ancestors married their cousins, so there’s that, too.”
Liam snorted in a most unprincely way, and Lena declared a mental victory. “That was the primary reason we seceded from our English cousins.”
“Really?”
“No, not really,” Liam said, with a shake of his head. “But seriously, why would your parents name you the unfortunate one? That’s terrible.”
Didn’t she know it. “When my mom moved here from Puerto Rico as a teenager, she polished her English by watching TV. Mallory was her favorite character on some family sitcom that was big at the time. She didn’t actually know the meaning. She just liked the name.” Lena’s chest tightened as she remembered the way her mom’s eyes would soften when she complained about her name, which was often when she was a teenager. “Once she set her mind to something, there was no changing it.”
“Is that where you get your stubbornness?” Liam asked, lifting his wineglass to his lips and draining the burgundy liquid.
Lena sniffed. “You should talk.”
“What? It’s a trait I rather admire.” Liam paused as the server refilled their wineglasses and cleared the plates. It hadn’t escaped Lena’s notice that one of her buttons had come undone after her first visit to the table. Liam hadn’t seemed to notice, though. Things like that probably happened to him all the time.
A flash of jealousy burned through her veins.
This isn’t a real date, even if it feels like one.
“Was your father from Puerto Rico as well?” he asked, when the server sauntered away, shaking her backside with a seductive sway of the hips.
“No, my father was New York Irish, born and raised.” Lena bit her lip, considering her next words carefully. “I’m closer with my mother’s family.” That was putting it mildly. Family was the bedrock of the Puerto Rican culture, which was why news of her run-in with the prince had spread faster than a spilled can of paint among her aunts, uncles, and cousins, all of them desperate for details. Details she would not,could notrelay, which meant she would have to avoid her family. Probably easier said than done, but she just needed to get through the next couple of weeks and things would go back to normal.
Whatever normal meant.
“Have you ever been to Puerto Rico?” Liam asked, curiosity lighting his pale eyes. “I’ve heard it’s a beautiful island.”
“No, but I’d love to go one day. Who knows? Maybe when the studio is turning a healthy profit.” She smiled sweetly at her fake boyfriend. “I seem to recall a rather cocky prince suggesting he’d have the studio booked through next year.”
Liam chuckled, the low rumble rolling across her skin like a summer storm charged with the promise of beauty and power.
By the time they finished dessert, Lena was sure Ethan and Jack, who’d been hovering at the edge of the restaurant, would have to roll her to the car. The food had been amazing and the chocolate mousse had been orgasmic, which probably said more about her sex life—or lack thereof—than the dessert.
Still, the night had been a success, hadn’t it? They’d had a nice, quiet meal. They’d been seen, but hadn’t made a scene. And the conversation had flowed as effortlessly as the wine. Liam was surprisingly easy to talk to. And who knew? Maybe he was right. Maybe his PR team could repair her image and set things right at the studio. Warmth curled in Lena’s chest, whether from the realization that things were finally going her way or from the wine, she didn’t know, but either way, she didn’t hate the feeling.
In fact, she kind of liked it.
Liam rose and pulled out her chair like a perfect gentleman. Then he guided her toward the door, his hand resting gently on her lower back. The heat and pressure of his touch nearly short-circuited her brain, and she had to remind herself again that it was all for show.
Maybe she needed some rules to navigate this fake relationship. Or did she? Because, really, there was only one rule that mattered: no falling for the fake boyfriend.
Right. Easy enough to remember.
Halfway to the door, she realized she’d left her purse at the table.
She turned to tell Liam she’d forgotten her bag, but as she did, her heel snagged on the carpet and she stumbled forward. She put up her hands to catch herself, but—as usual—it was the wrong move. Lena crashed into her unsuspecting date, sending him careening into a server with an armload of exquisite-looking meals. Liam stepped on one of the server’s finely polished oxfords, their feet tangling, and that was it. The prince went down and the food went up. The dishes came crashing down all around him, spilling seared scallops, whipped potatoes, and roasted asparagus all over his designer suit.
Lena slammed her eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
When she dared to crack her eyes open, Liam still sat on the floor, a look of shock on his face, with garlic butter dripping down the front of his shirt.
Oh, it was happening all right.
