Page 29 of Don’t Look Down

Without allowing him to say a single word, I take off.

Eleven

The first thought that pops into my head when I slip inside the car Friday evening to go to the King’s birthday ball is that it’s empty because he knows. Lock found out about our kiss, and he decided not to escort me after all.

The entire ride is spent in agony, my stomach wrenching with each moment closer and closer. I’m dressed to the nines with my golden gown, hair in soft waves, makeup done a little heavier than usual, but I’ve never felt more dirty.

He’ll likely ignore me all night. If anything, I’m surprised he didn’t rescind my invitation. I wouldn’t have been able to argue.

The car slows to a stop in front of the entrance to Caulfield Palace where a burgundy carpet is rolled across the ground, with photographers on either side contained by metal barriers. They look stronger than the ones at the charity events at least.

I white-knuckle grip my purse and close my eyes, taking a deep, centering breath. I have to face it. Have to face him.

But I don’t know which him I’m more nervous about.

The car door clicks. I open my eyes to thank whoever swung it open for me, and the sight of who stands in front of me sweeps all the air from my lungs.

“It’s great to see you, Briar.” Lock holds out his hand. “I hope the drive was well.”

It takes my body a moment to catch up with my brain. I paste on a smile, hoping he didn’t register my shock, and accept his hand. “Thank you,” I say, voice surprisingly steady. Maybe all those years of my mother’s instruction was beneficial. “It was just fine.” I curtsey deeply before popping back up.

The cameras go mad when I stand beside Lock. They don’t shout at him like I’ve heard them do to Beau, but a few do ask for him to look this way or that. He ignores them, keeping his eyes on me.

The smile on his own face, absent of any anger or disgust, causes one thought to race through my head.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know.

Or else he has a better poker face than I could’ve expected.

He holds out his arm, and I tuck my hand around it to rest on his forearm. More flashes blind me. But I’ve grown used to them at the events, and my steps don’t falter as we begin down the carpet toward the palace entrance.

“I apologize for not being able to pick you up,” he speaks loud enough to be heard over the camera shutters. “I had other important matters to attend to before this evening’s event.”

Well then, I guess I’m not an important matter.

Stop that, I scold myself. That’s just your insecurity talking, and you’re looking for a way to justify your kiss with Beau.

I’ve been searching for one the last few days.

So far, I’ve come up short.

If Beau didn’t say anything to his brother, then clearly it didn’t mean anything to him. And why would it? All we did was kiss. He’s probably kissed more than half the women in the city.

Just because it was my first one, and a mistake, doesn’t mean I need to let it overpower me. I’m finally here with Lock.

I need to focus on that and enjoy getting to spend time with him.

“There’s no apologies necessary, Your Highness. I understand your schedule is very full.”

“You can call me Lock, Briar. No need for formalities unless we’re around certain audiences.”

“Oh.” I blink, then chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry.”

He ever so slightly tilts his arm, as if he’s trying to get my attention. I look up at him and follow his eyeline. He’s looking toward the photographers on the right side of us. I take his silent cue and give them a small wave, but a large smile. I see Lock out of the corner of my eye doing the same. They go crazy.