Page 26 of Scandal Queen

Well.

I did my own seatbelt up and folded my arms. He shook his head, that damn smile teasing his lips, and pulled Daisy’s bag between his feet.

I glared out of the window and watched London zoom into view; the city I didn’t think I would be coming back to for a while. Now I was returning in a private jet with a prince at my side.

A car waited for us on the tarmac. We didn’t even have to step foot in the airport. Daisy had fallen asleep while the plane did an extra aerial circuit of London. Oliver had frowned and tutted at that point. It seemed royalty didn’t like to be stuck in an air traffic control queue.

He carried Daisy straight down the steps of the plane and into the waiting black Mercedes people carrier. It seemed excessive, but then when I slid into the luxurious confines of the vehicle, I remembered about Freya waiting for us; now all the seats made sense.

“Your Highness.” She curtsied to which he nodded briefly before he turned to slide Daisy into the seat next to where I sat. Her head fell on my shoulder as he clipped in her safety belt. “Miss Lawrence,” Freya added in my direction.

Freya seemed the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. Her dark hair twisted into a neat chignon and she had on a navy shift dress and matching court shoes. Did the woman ever dress down? That was the question. I glanced at my own jeans and the hoodie of Oliver’s I’d pulled on in a rush. Huh, I bet she hadn’t been woken up by the press knocking at her door. I had my reasons for looking like I’d flown through a hurricane and I’d be sticking to them.

“I’ve called Mrs Lawrence. She will meet us at your apartments at the palace.”

For a moment I didn’t realise who she was talking about. “Nana?” I asked eventually once my brain started working.

The car pulled off and I turned to glance out of the window at the plane. Another car followed ours and I assumed Bill must be in it.

Oliver lowered his voice, his fingers squeezing mine as he spoke directly to me. “I asked Freya to get in touch with Nana. We will be in meetings when we get back and I assumed you’d want someone Daisy knew to look after her.”

I stared at him wordlessly. “You could have asked me. I would have contacted Nana.” I don’t know why but my stomach twisted like I’d eaten something not quite right. “And what meetings?”

Freya dug her phone out of her bag and clicked her long red nails across the screen before handing it over to Oliver. He reached out with his free hand while his other still remained woven into mine. “Just as I thought.” A smile twitched his lips. “Those pyjamas look sensational.”

I gasped and grabbed the phone from him. “No! That’s not fair. I’ve got my mouth open. I look gormless.”

Oliver chuckled but Freya’s icy resting bitch face didn’t melt.

I stared at the screen. Some gossip site had a picture from just hours ago along with a headline: Prince Ollie’s secret affair not over.

They weren’t going to win awards for cutting edge journalism.

“What happens now?” The car moved quickly through the streets. People turned to look, peering through the dark glass as it cruised through the city.

“Now we go home.”

“To Bermondsey?” I nodded. I’d be happy there. Daisy knew the warehouse conversion, she’d been there before. We could lie low while we finalised plans on how to get her back to school. My mind ran over the things I’d need to do. I’d have to call her ballet teacher and cancel her Saturday lessons—such things seemed almost insignificant. I wondered if anyone else would give the homeless guy on the high street a sausage roll if I wasn’t going to do it anymore.

I nearly didn’t hear Oliver’s response.

“The palace, Leia. It’s my official address in London, and we will need to be seen in the right place at the right time.”

“But…” He couldn’t mean for Daisy and me to stay at St Mark’s with him… I mean come on, that was ludicrous… that’s where the royals lived.

The life defining moment struck me like a thunderbolt. The moment I realised I’d fallen in love with a prince. Not just any prince; not some foreign, European poor excuse for one, but I’d fallen in love with the heir to the throne. Heir to the British monarchy in a country where everyone loved The King, and every excuse for a street party covered the land in red, white, and blue, and people sang God Save the King at every major sporting event.

Oh. Holy shit.

Suddenly everything became achingly real.

I leant my head against Daisy’s and closed my eyes. I didn’t want him to see my panic.

“I’ve spoken to Marcus.” Freya’s cut glass accent punctured into my spiralling zen zone. “He’s preparing a statement on behalf of the family.”

I felt Oliver nod next to me. “Excellent.” His tone barked drily.

“Although I think he’s going to fight us on it. He says next year would be better.”