Page 9 of A Royal Disaster
An idea began to take shape in his mind. It was a calculated risk, but maybe a fake American girlfriend was just what he needed to put an end to his parents’ endless pressure to marry and produce an heir. He could practically envision the royal wedding march coming to a screeching halt. Their Majesties couldn’t very well shove a royally approved duchess down his throat if he were dating Elena.
Just for a month.
Sure, they’d be scandalized at the news he was dating a commoner, but what could they do from across the pond? And when they broke up at the end of the month by mutual agreement? Well, no one could expect him to jump back in the saddle while nursing a broken heart. He’d make a glassy-eyed statement about his love for Valeria and his dedication to helping the country move forward—while painting Elena as a passionate small business owner with obligations to her own community here in New York—and that would be the end of that, at least for another year or two.
It wasn’t a permanent solution, but he was out of options. His parents were determined to see him married, and while the idea of a political marriage made his balls shrivel up, the Royal Marriages Act made it impossible for him to marry without his parents’ consent. Should he attempt to marry without their approval, his crown would be forfeit.
“Do you have a nondisclosure agreement in your bag?” he asked, gesturing to the black leather briefcase at Fin’s feet.
“I never leave home without it,” Fin replied dryly. “Learned that lesson the hard way, courtesy of your brother.”
The legal team liked to pretend the NDA was an ironclad guarantee the royal family’s dalliances wouldn’t be leaked, but the truth was, it worked only if the person signing had something of value to lose. He didn’t think Elena was the type to go running to the press, but one could never be too careful.
Ten minutes later, Liam breezed through the door of East Village Art, leaving his guards outside to watch the door. Jack and Ethan had been part of his retinue for years and he trusted them explicitly, but considering the fallout from his last visit to the studio, it was probably best to downplay his station. Better he and Fin go it alone than overwhelm Elena with his entourage.
This mission would be challenging enough without antagonizing the sassy artist, and he was loath to lose another suit to her creative endeavors. Which was why he’d worn his least favorite.
Just in case.
The overhead bell rang and Elena looked up from her post behind the counter. She was even lovelier than he remembered, all soft curves and confidence, her dark brown hair pinned up with loose tendrils framing her face. Her gaze raked over them and she frowned, the tiny gesture speaking volumes. Not quite the reception he’d hoped for, but he couldn’t fault her, given the social media shitstorm.
She’d be well within her rights to throw him out on his arse.
It’s what he’d have done in her position. The media had been brutal—unfairly so—because of him, and she had every right to be angry, which was why he hoped to make amends. If only she’d give him a chance.
“Come back to finish me off?” she asked, cocking a hip in silent challenge. Her tone was all snark, but it was the sexy curve of her lips that caught his attention.
“I can assure you, I’ve never left a woman wanting,” he said, instinctively flashing a wicked grin. Fin rolled his eyes and turned to inspect the display in the front window, no doubt scanning the sidewalk outside for paparazzi.
Elena’s frown deepened, and she gave him a look that suggested she highly doubted the truth of his words. The unspoken insult should’ve stung, but it only set his pulse thrumming. “You’re looking less purple today.”
“It only took ten showers,” he returned mildly. In truth, it had taken only one, but there was something about Elena that made him want to needle her just a bit. “It’s a wonder I didn’t shrivel up like a prune.”
“Miss Murphy.” Fin darted forward, possibly to prevent Liam from saying something else untoward. “His Royal Highness, Prince William, Prince of Valeria, offers an apology for the trouble that’s befallen you recently.”
Elena snorted and crossed her arms. “The trouble that’s befallen me? You mean the troublehebrought to my door by illegally trespassing on my property with his fan club in tow?” Fin stood frozen, as if unsure how to respond to such blatant disregard for royal protocol. Elena lifted a brow and fixed her steely gaze on Liam. “I suppose it would be too much to expect His Royal Highness to make his own apologies.”
Liam chuckled. Whatever the woman lacked in stature, she more than made up for in spirit. It was a quality he rather admired. “I am sorry. For all of it,” he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”
“And you’re here because?”
How to put this delicately? The delivery would be everything.
Fin stepped forward again, ever the diligent assistant, determined to protect Liam from his own impulses. “Miss Murphy, before we continue. I need to verify we are alone in the shop so His Royal Highness might speak freely. Is there anyone else here we should know about?”
“Just Jinx.”
“The cat,” Liam supplied, sidestepping his friend. “Really, Fin. If Elena’s going to be my girlfriend, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”
So much for a tactful delivery.
“Excuse me?” Elena’s attention shifted from Liam to Fin and back again, dark eyes wide in disbelief. “I must’ve misheard, because I thought you said girlfriend.” She paused, her cheeks flushing. “Which is ridiculous. Obviously.”
“What’s ridiculous is the fact that one of your neighbors sold their security camera footage to the tabloids.”
“I wondered about that.” Elena dropped onto a stool, resignation coating her words. “Welcome to New York.”
Liam shrugged. This sort of thing happened all the time; there was no point belaboring it. “What’s done is done.”
