Page 55 of Tabloid Princess

“Oliver, please.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Your Highness, honestly, and I’m saying this as much for you as for me. It seems to make sense that I don’t come to the ball. I’d love to see Janine have her moment—even if it does mean dressing up and spending the evening with poncey people.” Another twitch of his lips. “But, if I’ve just been pictured out on a date with another guy, then it makes sense we don’t give them anything else. Let everyone spend a couple of days gossiping about the fact I’ve broken your heart, ooh what a bitch I am, and then it’s over. I can go back to the life I had before. All the mums will ignore me in the playground. I won’t have to worry about causing you any embarrassment and you can get on with whatever else you need to do that isn’t sending your bodyguard to guard me in one of London’s shittiest pubs.”

The green gaze locked on my face. “That’s unacceptable to me.”

“Do things always have to be acceptable? Which bit in particular doesn’t meet your pleasure?” I was pushing him, but I couldn’t help myself.

“All of it.”

We stared at one another. I tried to make sense of his cryptic response, but my head and heart were at war with one another. My entire body sizzled just from the touch of his hand

He broke the silence. “I shouldn’t say this.”

He stopped.

I waited.

“But the thought of not seeing you again is incredibly disagreeable to me.”

“At the ball? It will be busy, you’ll have some birthday fizz, lots of people will want to dance with you—women, maybe some men. You won’t even notice.”

His lips twitched again but then he said the words which would threaten to bring me down. “I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you again. Ever.”

If I was meant to answer, I didn’t have the words. My brain was just singing birds and swaying grass under a bright blue sky—nothing of any use and undoubtedly the opening scene to a Disney movie.

A tight band of panic wound its way around my insides. Because the truth, no matter how out of this world insane it was, told me that I felt the same.

And this was dangerous.

For him and for me.

“I should get you home.”

I nodded silently and watched the way his fingers curled around mine.

Twelve

I stared in the mirror, watching as Emilia pulled at the edges to the full silver skirt. “I still think this is totally overboard.”

The words were only half the truth.

Since my snatched moments in the car with Prince Oliver, my nerves had been a tangled mess. More than before, if that was even possible.

Part of me didn’t want to go to the stupid ball.

The other part craved to see him. A craving I hadn’t experienced in a long time. It hurt down to my bones.

“If everyone is going to be watching you, judging you, and thinking you are a prince’s secret girlfriend, then I can assure you I’m going to make sure you look knock-out as they do it.” Emilia talked through the pins sticking out of her closed mouth as she adjusted the hem, almost sewing around me as I stood looking like an exhausted Cinderella.

I glanced towards a staggering tower of newspapers I’d created in the corner of my bedroom. The headlines hadn’t stopped with the restraining order. From my spot near the mirror I could see yesterday’s headline: Princess Leia: A Threat to the Monarchy?

Then there had been pictures of Patrick with his arm over me, pictures of my rescue by Bill—the headline on that one had been creative. Princess Leia breaks the prince’s heart.

Like as if.

“How’s it going in there?” Molly called from the other side of the door.

“Like I’m stuck in the ninth circle of hell,” I shouted back. She laughed as she pushed the door open.