Page 65 of A Royal Disaster
“We should head back,” Elena said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have a class this afternoon.”
Liam stared, flummoxed as she turned on her heel and made her way to the front of the gallery. The dismissal grated, but if she thought this conversation was over, she had another think coming. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she threw away an amazing opportunity.
She’d said herself this was one of her favorite galleries.
“Wait,” he said, jogging to catch up with her. He caught her out front of the gallery and grabbed her arm. “Don’t shut me out, love. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Liam raised a brow. Even he knew thatnothingwas code forsomething. “Then why aren’t you going to submit your portfolio and why are you running away?”
“I’m not running away,” she huffed, shrugging out of his grasp and planting a hand on her hip. “But I’m also not going to use you to get what I want. The only reason Marcus wants to see my portfolio is because he thinks we’re dating.”
Liam’s resolve faltered.
“I’m not taking an opportunity that’s only being offered because ourrelationshiphas been splashed all over the news.”
Her words hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. When was the last time he had someone in his life who hadn’t wanted to use him to further their own agenda? They were so few and far between he could hardly remember. Everyone wanted a piece of him. It was an ugly truth of growing up royal. And he’d grown so accustomed to it that Elena’s flat-out refusal to leverage their relationship in that way touched him.
Oh, he knew it was as much for her own pride as it was for him, but it didn’t lessen the impact.
“That man doesn’t give a damn about my sharp eye or my artistic ability.” Elena laughed hollowly. “I could submit a pile of horseshit and he’d probably put it on display because he knows people will show up to see the work of Prince William’s girlfriend.”
God, he loved the way she stuck to her principles. The world could use more people like her, but just this once he wished she weren’t so damn stubborn. He hated being used, but even more than that, he hated to think of her passing up an opportunity to share her art—her passion—with the world. Besides, this was Elena. She would never use him.
“The fact that you’re willing to pass up this opportunity means more than words can express,” he said, “but this is a good opportunity, and you’ve earned it. I would hate for you to let it pass you by.”
“I’ve earned it?” she scoffed. “What? Because I’m fucking a royal? I hardly think that makes me qualified for a gallery showing.”
Liam groaned. He’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he?
“You know that’s not what I meant. You’ve worked hard at honing your craft, and you deserve it. The world can be a shitty place sometimes, and that guy’s a jackass for not recognizing your talent the first time you submitted—”
“The first two times,” she interjected saltily.
“But don’t let his shortcomings keep you from taking what you want with both hands.”
“I wouldn’t feel right about it. It feels like selling out. Or pimping myself.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. It just feels wrong, you know?”
Too well, although he was normally on the other end of such moral quandaries.
“Elena Murphy, you are an amazingly talented artist,” he said, pulling her to his chest and resting his chin on her head. Her body was soft and warm against his own as she laced her hands behind his back, and his chest tightened at the realization of just how much he’d missed this the last two days. He hadn’t wanted to leave Lena.
Their month was almost up and he wanted to enjoy every damn minute of it with her before reality came crashing down, but duty had called, so he’d flown to California and worked his fingers to the bone trying to seduce the Spartan leadership team. It had been a grueling two days, but he was back now, with Lena in his arms, and she smelled of paint and citrus and the promise of better days ahead.
“I wish the entire world could see what I see, but you have to give them the chance.”
“Even if the opportunity presents itself in an undesirable fashion?” she grumbled, burrowing deeper into his chest. “And the curator is a pompous ass?”
“Especially then,” he said, holding her tight, even as the hypocrisy of his words mocked him.
Chapter Twenty
Lena was saying goodbye to her last student when the phone rang. She snatched it up off the cradle, no longer fearing the worst. Things were going so well—at the studio and in her personal life—that she half expected to wake up from a dream most days. She’d even decided to submit her portfolio to The Verve. She still didn’t like the idea of gaining an advantage because of her relationship with Liam, but she’d rationalized that her work would stand on its own merit once shown, and she couldn’t deny the extra exposure would be good for the studio. Or that any sales she might make would help pad her bank account for the many repairs the studio needed.
Just the thought of a fully functional heating and cooling system had her singing a cheerful greeting as she answered the phone. “East Village Art, Elena speaking.”
“Hello, love.” The unexpected timbre of Liam’s deep baritone sent a shiver down her spine. Before she could recover, he spoke again. “Pack a bag and stay with me at the hotel tonight. We’ll have dinner and…dessert.”
