Page 29 of Ways To Ruin A Royal Reputation

Her stomach wrenched so violently, she folded her arms across it, moaning and nearly doubling over.

Luca wouldn’t hang her out to dry like that. Would he?

Of course, he would. The teacher, Avery Mason, had. The headmistress and her own parents had.

In a fit of near hysteria, she barged out of her suite to the hall.

She surprised the guard so badly, he took on a posture of attack, making her stumble back into her doorway, heart pounding.

She was so light-headed, she had to cling to the doorjamb. She sounded like a harridan when she blurted, “Tell the king I’ll set my room on fire if he doesn’t speak to me in the next ten minutes. Punch me unconscious or call the fire brigade because Iwilldo it.”

The guard caught the door before she could slam it in his face. He spoke Italian into his wrist. After the briefest of pauses, he nodded. “Come with me.”

Now she’d done it. He was taking her to a padded cell. Or the dungeon.

Yes, that kind of dungeon.

She sniffed back a semihysterical laugh-sob.

He escorted her through halls that were familiar. She was being taken to Luca’s office. The scene of their first criminal kiss. And their second.

People filed out as she arrived, but she didn’t make eye contact. She stared at the floor until she was told to go in. She went only as far as she had to for the door to close behind her.

“Will you introduce us, Luca?” a woman asked.

Amy snapped her head up to see only Luca and his sister were in the room.

Luca was as crisp and urbane as ever in a smart suit and tie, freshly shaved with only a hint of fatigue around his eyes to suggest he’d had a long day. His gaze sharpened on her, but Amy was distracted by his twin.

Sofia Albizzi was a feminine version of Luca, almost as tall, also athletically lean, but with willowy curves and a softer expression. Where the energy that radiated off Luca was dynamic and energizing, Sofia’s was equally commanding but with a settle-down-children quality. She wore a pantsuit in a similar dark blue as Luca’s suit. Her hair was in a chignon, and she offered a calm, welcoming smile.

Amy must look like a petitioning peasant, slouched in her shawl and slippers, hair falling out of its clip and no makeup to hide her distress. She feltawfulcoming up against this double barrel of effortless perfection. She wanted to turn and walk back out again, but Luca straightened off the edge of his desk.

“Your Highness, this is Amy Miller. Amy, my sister Sofia, the queen of Vallia.”

“Queen?” Amy distantly wondered if she was supposed to curtsy.

Sofia flicked a glance at Luca that could only be described as sibling telepathy.

“My new title is confidential,” Sofia said. “Only finalized within the last hour. There will be a press release in the morning. I hope I can trust you to keep this information to yourself until then?”

Amy choked on disbelief. “Who could I tell? You’ve cut off my online access.”

“We did do that,” Sofia acknowledged. “The prince said you understand the importance of limiting communication during a crisis, so we can project a clear and unified message.”

Prince. He’d been dethroned.By her. She was definitely going to faint. Amy blinked rapidly, trying to keep her vision from fading as she looked between the two.

Sofia came toward her, regal and ridiculously attractive while exuding that consoling energy. “I appreciate how distressed you must be, Amy. It’s been a trying day for all of us, but I hope you’ll allow us to show you the best of our hospitality for a little longer? And not frighten staff with threats of setting the palace on fire?”

Emotion gathered in Amy’s eyes, beleaguered humor and frustration and something that closed her throat because she suddenly had the horrid feeling she had disappointed Sofia. Not the way she consistently disappointed her mother. She wasn’t being held to impossible, superficial standards. No, Sofia simply projected a confidence that Amy was better than someone who made wild threats.Let’s all do better, she seemed to say.

Luca was right. She was an ideal ruler.

But there was no comfort in being the instrument that had installed her on the throne, not when it had cost her the life she’d worked so hard to build.

“I want to go h-home.” She was at the end of her thin, frayed rope.

“Our people will arrange that soon,” Sofia began, but Luca came forward with purpose.

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