Page 31 of A Royal Disaster
If he ever got his hands on that bloody cocksucker Chad… His hands shook at the memory of the live broadcast, and he flexed his fingers, trying to calm his body. It was a pointless exercise. Anger-fueled adrenaline coursed through his veins like liquid fire, seeking a physical outlet for the pent-up enmity.
What kind of arseholes had Elena dated? With an ex like that, it was no wonder she thought she was cursed. A guy like Chad could never properly appreciate a woman like Elena, and it pissed him off to no end that she had to deal with a wanker like that.
At least now he knew why she’d sworn off men.
Liam scrubbed a hand over his face. The morning had started off well enough, but the moment he’d seen Elena’s ex on television, he’d cleared his calendar. Fin hadn’t been pleased with him blowing off the trade meetings, but it was his own damn fault for showing Liam the footage in the first place. And truth be told, he wasn’t certain whether his friend was irritated by having a week and a half of his PR work undone, or by Liam’s lack of focus on his diplomatic responsibilities.
Not that it mattered.
One look at Elena’s pale face and drawn lips and he knew he was exactly where he needed to be. She shouldn’t be alone, not when she’d been betrayed so viciously by someone once close to her. After all, he knew firsthand how crushing such a blow could be. The knowledge burned in his gut like molten lava and he wanted nothing more than to repay the favor on her behalf. Elena wasn’t accustomed to this sort of backstabbing and posturing, but he’d grown up in a bloody palace and there was no one more suited to playing the game than he.
But first, he needed to make sure Elena was okay.
There would be plenty of time later to discredit the prick who’d trashed her reputation, and he had every intention of repaying the debt—tenfold. Hell, if his security team had known about the lawsuit they could’ve intervened sooner, but her name had been misspelled in the court filing and they’d missed it.
“I came as soon as I saw the news,” he said quietly, doing his damndest to keep his anger under wraps as he approached the counter. Elena studied him warily, her dark eyes devoid of their usual fire. For that alone, he’d make the arsehole pay. “How are you?”
“I’m…” Lena trailed off, her gaze flitting around the studio as she rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. Angry. Embarrassed. Frustrated. It’s one step forward, two steps back lately. All I want to do is save EVA. Is that too much to ask?”
Her naked vulnerability hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. “No, it’s not. We are going to save your studio. I promised I’d fix this, and I will.” The desire to touch her struck hard and fast, so he gave in to the impulse, reaching across the counter and lifting her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes. Her skin was as soft and smooth as he remembered, and it was all he could manage not to drag his thumb across her full bottom lip. “This isn’t the end of the road for EVA or you.”
Lena looked up at him, her dark eyes swimming with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. “I never wanted for any of this to happen,” she said, slipping out of his grasp and crossing her arms over her chest, “but I probably should’ve expected it, right?”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Liam bit out, temper barely leashed. He hated that she’d been hurt again…because of him. If it weren’t for their farce of a relationship, her ex never would’ve had a platform from which to spew his venom. This was his fault, and he would make it right. “No one should have to live in fear that the people closest to them will betray them, certainly not so publicly.”
Elena started, pinning him with a curious look. “You do.”
Liam silently cursed her perceptive nature as he struggled to find the right words. How could he explain it to her without sounding like a condescending prick? “It’s not the same,” he said. “My name alone makes me a target, but it’s a small price to pay for the privilege of serving my country. I can only hope that one day, when my duty is done, my country and my people will be stronger for my leadership.”
“You mean your sacrifice,” Elena said, arching a brow in challenge and proving this latest setback hadn’t doused all her fire. “You’re the heir, the good son, the one who quietly makes every sacrifice the crown demands. That’s what the papers say, anyway.”
The truth of her words was an uncomfortable reminder of his obligations. Time to steer the conversation back to the midday broadcast. Ugly as it was, they needed to talk about it. “Let’s go for a walk. Have you had lunch yet?”
Elena shook her head, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “What about them?” she asked, jerking her chin toward the street.
Liam grinned. “We’ll go out the back. As long as Ethan and Jack are here, the paparazzi won’t even know we’ve slipped away.”
“Because that worked out so well for you the last time.” Elena laughed and shook her head as she reached around to untie her apron.
“Ah, but this time, I have a plan,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt like Clark Kent to reveal a tacky I Love New York T-shirt. “I’m going incognito.”
The corners of Elena’s lips twitched. “You could almost pass for a tourist.”
“That’s the idea,” he said, pulling a Yankees ball cap from his back pocket as she skirted the counter to join him. “Let’s just hope I’m not recognized, because the queen would have an absolute conniption if I’m photographed in this ensemble.”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll start a new fashion trend,” Elena teased, leading the way to the back door, where she grabbed a wide brim hat that covered her hair and cast her face in shadow. He followed, marveling at her resiliency. The woman had a steel spine. When life knocked her down, she kept getting back up. With a smile on her face, nonetheless. She was bloody indomitable, and he respected the hell out of her for it. “I can see the headlines already. Prince William Debuts Souvenir Shop Chic.”
“Perish the thought,” he deadpanned, clutching a hand to his chest in mock horror.
A quick reconnaissance of the back alley confirmed the coast was clear and they raced down the narrow corridor, hand in hand, eager to leave the paps—and all the problems they caused—behind.
They walked in companionable silence for a couple of blocks, losing themselves in the hustle and bustle of the city, and eventually Elena came to a stop in front of a shiny metal cart with a bright red and gold sign advertising cuchifritos. Liam didn’t know what the hell a cuchifrito was, but the photos plastered on the side of the cart showed a wide variety of what appeared to be Latin American dishes that made his mouth water.
“They usually sell out early, but it looks like we’re in luck,” Elena said, an impish grin playing across her lips. “Andres makes some of the best cuchifritos in the city.”
“What exactly are cuchifritos?” Liam asked, stealing a glance at the colorful bowl of rice and beans the woman ahead of them was holding.
Elena laughed, the sound floating on the air as light and free as a breeze. “It just means fried food, which is pretty much a staple in Puerto Rican cuisine. I can’t believe you’ve never had cuchifritos before. Prepare to have your taste buds ruined for all other fare.”
