Page 62 of Tabloid Princess

The prince—he challenged that safety.

He was easier to resist when he wasn’t near me.

I could tell myself this was a fairy tale and that reality would soon return.

“Is there a place I can get some air?” I asked a liveried attendant when I was out in one of the long hallways. Works of art hung on the walls, and statues stood at spacious intervals. I just wanted air in my lungs and for my head to be clear.

The man nodded and strangely pulled back a velvet curtain. Behind the plush red material was a glass double door which he pushed on a bar to open.

Peering through the door, I stepped out, finding myself on a balcony which must run around the back of the building. Glass doors opened at regular intervals.

A sweet scent of roses filled the air and the stillness of the night calmed my shattered nerves.

I’m sure you can think of something.

He couldn’t be for real?

Far scarier than his question was the simple fact I could think of many things. Most of them ones I’d never contemplated or even tried.

The prince would be sadly disappointed by my inexperienced fumbling.

I chuckled to myself as I leant over the balcony. Down below, the gardens were empty, not a person in sight. The press would be out front.

How many more weeks would it take for them to forget my face? I hated them. Even The Queen recognised me for God’s sake. That was humiliating on every level.

I stood for a while just enjoying the cool night air. I should have known the ball would have been too much for my limited social skill-set. But I’d come, the press had seen me, no one could gossip about anything. I’d done my bit.

I’d danced with the prince and had awoken a monster in the pit of my stomach.

All in all, I think if I’d had a fairy godmother, she’d be relatively pleased.

“Leia?”

Oh God. The monster flickered awake from its snooze. A churning heat burned deep down in the pit of my soul.

I spun, leaning against the barrier of the balcony. “Hi.”

“Did my speech bore you?” His lips turned at the corners.

“No. I needed some air.”

He nodded and stepped closer. My chest constricted.

“Prince Oliver, please.”

“Oliver.” His low rumble spoke directly to my lady bits.

“Ol—” I couldn’t quite manage it. “You shouldn’t have said what you did. It was unfair.”

“Which part exactly?” He tilted his head a little and his gaze burned with intensity.

“Uh. The bit on the dance floor,” I blurted. “And in the car the other day.”

“Which bit in the car?”

I couldn’t breathe. Where had all the bloody air gone? “The bit where you said you couldn’t contemplate not seeing me again.”

Another step closer. I pressed into the barrier, so hard I knew it would bruise.