Page 69 of A Royal Disaster
They needed to talk about it. To talk about what came next. They couldn’t avoid the subject forever, though they’d damn sure tried. Unfortunately, the knowledge didn’t make it any easier to find the words. They’d moved beyond the fake girlfriend arrangement, but to what?
She knew he cared about her. He’d said as much. And she was crazy about him, her heart full to bursting with lo—lust and adoration, but where did they go from here?
Liam traced the outline of her shoulder and she shivered, her nerves still wrung out from the orgasm he’d given her minutes before. When he kissed her, his lips caressing the curve of her neck, she forgot all about titles and futures and—
Knock! Knock!
Liam sighed. “That’s probably our dinner.”
Lena laughed and rolled over to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “You should get that. You’re going to need your strength if you have any hope of delivering on your promise.”
Liam slapped her ass playfully. “I hope you’re not questioning my stamina.”
“Every royal has his limits,” she said, patting his muscled chest. Then she hopped off the couch and scooped up her dress, sashaying to the bedroom and knowing damn well he was watching her ass every step of the way.
She cleaned up in the bathroom and traded her dress for a shirt she found hanging on a robe hook. Liam must’ve forgotten to put it in the dry cleaning bag. Or maybe housekeeping did that sort of thing for him. Like every other area of his life, the bathroom was neat and orderly. She scanned the vanity for something to tie her hair back but came up empty.
Maybe she’d find something in the bedroom. There was a small antique desk tucked in the corner, and though it had the same fastidious look of the bathroom, there was a briefcase on the chair, suggesting Liam sometimes worked from the hotel.
The top of the desk was clear, just a simple white lamp and phone, but she figured there might be a pencil or something in the drawer. She pulled it open and sure enough, a pencil embossed with the name of the hotel rolled to the front of the drawer. Lena grabbed it and as she was about close the drawer, she noticed a thick black file labeled Royal Prospects.
Royal prospects?
A photograph had slipped out of the folder when she’d opened the drawer. Just the corner, but it was enough that she could see a perfectly coiffed platinum blonde updo.
Lena’s pulse quickened, and she tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. Whatever was in that file, it was none of her business. Liam would tell her if it were something she needed to know about, and she would not violate his trust by snooping through his things.
It would be wrong.
That wasn’t the kind of person she wanted to be. She wasn’t the jealous type. She didn’t cyberstalk the men she dated or paw through their personal belongings when they weren’t around.
But she couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in her belly. Or the way her heart was slamming against her ribcage. Or the fact that she’d seen that same shade of impossibly blonde hair just hours ago.
She had to know what was in that file. Just one little peek to set her mind at ease.
With the tip of her finger, Lena flipped the folder open.
Charlotte Dupont’s smiling face stared back at her. Lena’s instincts had been right. She picked up the picture and put it to the side, doing her best not to dwell on the fact that everything about Charlotte screamed perfection, from her shiny blonde hair and demure smile to her freaking name.
Lady Dupont probably even had a cute little nickname like Lotte.
Lena scanned the sheaf of papers under the photograph. It was a biography of Charlotte’s life and the damn thing read like a résumé, all her accomplishments and accolades listed with handwritten notes scrawled in the margin. She didn’t read most of them. She didn’t need to. There was one note at the top of the page that stood out from the rest:ideal match.
Tears stinging her eyes, Lena flipped through the rest of the file. There were photos and biographies for a dozen beautiful, accomplished women in the file, and she’d be a fool not to understand the meaning. After all, hadn’t Charlotte warned her?
Liam needed a queen who was his equal, not a walking PR nightmare.
With shaking hands, Lena slapped the file shut and closed the drawer.
How could she have been so stupid? So naïve? All this time, while they’d been pretending to date—while they’d been sleeping together—he’d been searching for a suitable fiancé.
One who wouldn’t humiliate him at every turn.
Her stomach pitched at the realization. She needed to talk to Liam. To hear the words from his own lips. Maybe there was an explanation she hadn’t considered.
It had to be some kind of misunderstanding.
Clinging to that desperate hope, Lena reached for the bedroom door and froze when she heard Fin’s voice.
