Page 18 of Twelve Nights In The Prince's Bed

‘It’s weird,’ Ellie admitted after a minute. ‘You’re my best friend and he’s my brother. The thought of the two of you is hard to get used to. But it’s more than that, Pops.’

Poppy waited, nerves stretching.

‘I love Adrastos. It’s just...he’s different to you. He’s...’

‘More experienced,’ Poppy said.

‘I don’t want you to get hurt,’ Ellie urged.

‘I promise you, I won’t.’

There was no scope for her to be hurt because this wasn’t a real relationship. He was faking it and so was she, more or less.

‘Maybe he’ll be different with you,’ Ellie said, but her own voice showed ambivalence. ‘Just...be careful. He’s a great guy, but I’ve never seen him with a woman he hasn’t treated as expendable. And you’re most definitely not that.’

‘We’re taking it slow. I promise.’

Poppy disconnected the call with a tremor of anxiety. Taking it slow? Hardly. They were going to be sharing a room in the palace, doing their level best to convince his parents they were madly in love. This could be a recipe for disaster.

After her parents’ deaths, this palace had become a salvation to Poppy. It was a place where she was loved and safe and, for four years of her life, it had been her home, day in, day out. Despite that, a kaleidoscope of butterflies took over her tummy as she went through the gates now—because for the first time, she was in the same car as Adrastos, their arrival carefully planned to ring with truth.

The act they’d discussed almost academically was about to begin and Poppy knew she had to give the performance of a lifetime.

With Adrastos.

Pretending that he was her lover!

Just the idea of that made her pulse race and her stomach twist. How could she possibly convince the people who knew her best?

But how could she not? Ever since those photos had run in the papers, more and more stories had been printed, each more fanciful than the next, the speculation quite wild, the interviews incredibly invasive. Because Poppy had refused to hold any media events herself—naturally—there’d been interviews with whomever the less scrupulous tabloids could drench up, from old school ‘friends’, to lecturers at university, never mind if Poppy had never been in their class. But with each article to run, Poppy became gladder they’d agreed to do this, to give some flesh to the fact they’d slept together. His family would be disappointed when they broke up, but at least they wouldn’t think that either Poppy or Adrastos had been so stupid as to fall into bed together, to hell with how that would impact anyone else.

‘Ready?’ His voice was deep and gruff and made her already oversensitive nerves tremble. She turned to him slowly, her pulse all over the place, her heart twisting painfully. Their eyes met and she was tumbling through the cotton candy of her memories, straight back to that night, when he’d pulled her against him and kissed her until she saw stars.

‘Adrastos?’ Her eyes were huge, her skin pale.

He skimmed her face for several beats, his lips pressed together, then made a noise that sounded like encouragement.

But Poppy was suddenly shy.

‘That night...’

‘Which night?’

But he knew. Of course he did. ‘At my party.’

‘Ah. The night we had sex?’

He was being deliberately brazen. Her cheeks flooded with colour. ‘Please don’t talk like that here.’

‘We’re supposed to be dating. You don’t think your boyfriend should mention S-E-X around you?’

Her cheeks grew hotter. ‘You’renotmy boyfriend,’ she hissed, even though they were alone.

He lifted a hand in mock surrender. ‘This was your idea.’

‘Yes, and I’m already regretting it,’ she muttered, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, for strength.

‘What about the other night?’ he asked, suddenly serious.

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