Page 27 of A Royal Disaster
Lena scanned the studio, which was starting to look like a floral boutique, and laughed in spite of herself. It was the fourth delivery in as many days and people were starting to talk, online and in real life. The deliveries had started the morning after the musical, and thanks to one sneaky photographer—who she suspected had been tipped off by Fin—each delivery had been captured and shared online. Now there was a ragtag group of paparazzi permanently stationed outside, hoping to catch a shot of Liam the next time he made an appearance at the studio, or, at the very least, the next floral delivery.
She wasn’t exactly a fan of living under a microscope, but she couldn’t complain, because between the kiss and the flowers, the online chatter seemed to be taking a positive turn. Instead of comments about her horrific treatment of HRH and overall lack of style—which had been at least partially redeemed by the beautiful gold dress Fin had picked out—people seemed to be more enamored by the prospect of the prince falling in love with a common American artist.
“Aquí.I think we can squeeze them in over here,” Lena said, pointing to the last open bit of space on the front counter. Carlos followed her lead and slid the vase into the tiny opening, nearly toppling a display of tri-fold flyers and business cards that were starting to collect dust. “Can you do me a favor, por favor?”
“Anything for my best customer,” he said, chuckling and wiping a hand across his brow.
“Perhaps you could recommend a smaller arrangement the next time the prince’s assistant calls? You know, something that might not take up so much space?” Lena suggested hopefully.
Carlos puffed out his chest. “No assistant. I spoke with Prince William himself.”
That couldn’t be right, could it? Surely he had more important things to worry about than their budding fake romance. “You’re telling me the prince calls to place all these orders himself?” she said, gesturing at the multitude of blossoms taking over her studio.
No freaking way. First the show, now this? It was a lot of effort for a fake relationship.
“Of course he does. What kind of man doesn’t order his own flowers?” Carlos screwed up his lips as if the very idea were distasteful. “I’ve been in this business a long time and you can take my word for it, señorita, the good ones? They always order their own flowers. And your prince? He already placed his order for the entire month.”
Lena froze, her heart slamming against her rib cage. “Did you just saymonth?”
“Ignore her, Carlos,” Nia said, floating into the room as if carried by the wind itself. “There’s plenty of space in the office,” she said, hooking a thumb over her shoulder. “And in her apartment upstairs.”
“We’re going to be overrun with flowers!” Lena protested, quickly amending, “Not that they aren’t lovely.”
Nia snorted. “We have too many flowers,said no woman ever. Girl, do you know how many women would cut a bitch to be on the receiving end of such a romantic gesture?”
“You should listen to your friend,” Carlos said, pointing at Lena as if he were scolding a wayward child. “No such thing as too many flowers when it comes to true love. Hasta mañana!”
Lena stood slack-jawed as he raced out the door without a backward glance. A month’s worth of flowers? What would they even do with them all?
“Come on. Spill,” Nia pleaded, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “You’ve been on cloud nine for days and not so much as a peep about His Royal Hotness. I need details. I’mdyyyyyiiiiing!”
Lena snapped her mouth shut and turned to her friend, doing her best to keep her expression neutral even as guilt clawed at her conscience. “What’s to tell? He picked me up, we sawPretty Woman—which was amazing—and he dropped me off.”
Nia groaned, and it was all Lena could do not to join her. If she could just be honest with Nia and tell her the whole relationship was a sham, things would be so much easier. The NDA hanging over her head meant she couldn’t sit around gushing about Liam only to break up with him at the end of the month, which, she was starting to suspect, might devastate Nia more than herself.
Liar.
Okay, fine. Yes, she’d spent far too long thinking about their amazing date and the blazing kiss that had damn near scorched her panties. But it had all been part of the act. There was no way Liam had actually wanted to kiss her. Even if it had felt real in the moment. Which just went to show how far she’d put her head in the damn clouds. Because even if Liam was smart, thoughtful, and funny—not to mention deliciously protective—he was still a freaking prince. He wasn’t going to fall for a starving artist, and even if he did, it wouldn’t be one with the world’s worst luck. Nothing good could come of it. Not for him, anyway. Besides, he’d already gone above and beyond to help bail her out of her media nightmare.
Problem was, it was hard to forget those soft, perfect lips. And the man had a very gifted tongue. Add in the fact that he’d taken her on one of the most romantic dates of her life and—
Enough!
It didn’t matter how convincing the kiss had felt in that moment, or how much she’d enjoyed it, it wasn’t real. There was nothing real about their relationship and she needed to remember it, because Liam’s future no doubt included a beautiful, polished princess who didn’t come with her own set of bad luck baggage.
“What’s going on in there?” Nia asked, tapping the side of Lena’s head with her pointer finger. “You’ve got that goofy-ass grin on your face again.”
Flames licked at the back of Lena’s neck. She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t even noticed her friend’s approach. This had to stop. She couldn’t sit around daydreaming about Liam all day. “Sorry, I was doing a mental inventory for this week’s community outreach class. I think we’re going to need some new brushes.”
“Riiight.” Nia planted a hand on her hip. “Because the thought of paintbrushes always gives you that blissed-outI’m-about-to-publicly-orgasm-right-freaking-nowlook. You were thinking about kissing HRH, weren’t you?”
Coño. Nia knew her too well. Fortunately, the phone rang, saving her from answering.
“Get that, will you?” Lena begged. “And remember, if it’s family, I’m not here.”
Nia arched a brow and reached for the phone. “East Village Art, Nia speaking.”
Lena’s stomach churned with nervous energy. The phone had been ringing more and more the last few days, but it was a crapshoot as to whether it would be a client, a reporter, or one of her aunts trying to get the scoop on her royal relationship. She prayed it was a client. They’d had a few students call to reenroll, but they weren’t even close to covering the looming tax bill.
