“It’s a burping cat, with its little paw covering the hole in the can to shotgun the beer. PETA might give me side-eye, but it certainly isn’t debauched.”
“Things on Twitter can escalate fast,” he said grimly.
Christian had wound up sitting across from her sister. He pointed at her now. “What if you and Mallory post a selfie from the garden? Pretty roses behind you, nothing outrageous. Except that there’s an accidental photobomb of the prime minister in the courtyard. There wasn’t a meeting on his public schedule with the king. Is this proof of collusion? Are we secretly insinuating ourselves into the voting process? Buying favor with members of Parliament?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Mallory shot back.
Elias didn’t disagree. But that didn’t change the facts. “That’s the internet. That’s why, Your Highness, you have to stop. As royalty, everything you do or say will be picked apart through a very different lens.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, forcing him to look away again. “I didn’t agree to stay past two weeks. If I don’t stay, I still need a job. The rent won’t pay itself.”
This time Christian did laugh out loud. “You have an immensely large trust. Since you were never declared dead, it’s been held for you. You won’t ever need a job again.”
“Needing isn’t the same as wanting. I like my job. I like what I do. I like having a purpose.”
Elias adored her dogged refusal to back down, even though it made his job twice as hard. This woman knew what she wanted.
Christian was holding onto his patience well. Even though Elias knew he didn’t have the ten minutes to spare today that they’d already spent in here. The prince said calmly, “Do you like it enough to not leave them in the lurch? Even if you don’t stay in Moncriano, your world will be turned upside down. You won’t be able to continue the life you had before. That isn’t a command. It is simply a fact of what comes with your new status.”
A status that hadn’t quite kicked in yet, which gave Elias an idea. Normally, he wouldn’t contradict the prince in front of others, but he couldn’t take the sadness that drew her mouth into a kissable pout.
“What if we give the princess a week to wrap up a few projects? To post all the memes she wants on Twitter. Instead of going cold turkey—which never works—we ease her off gently?”
Christian’s eyebrow shot up at Eli’s public challenge. Then, after a brisk nod, he strode to the tall double doors leading to the hallway. Decision made and discussion over. “You can have one week. That’s as long as we’ll be able to keep your return a complete secret. Maids talk. Members of parliament talk. We can hold off the official announcement, but I guarantee rumors will be swirling by Saturday.”
He left without waiting for any acknowledgment from the Wishners. Elias had no choice but to follow him. Christian may have thought the matter settled.
Elias knew better. And he knew, hoped, Kelsey would need him.
Chapter Eight
Kelsey got her first C on a test in tenth grade.
She’d studied, knew the material, and thus felt comfortable staying up late binging rom-coms. Except it’d made her so sleepy the next day that she’d forgotten to turn over her test. Missed the whole back page. Entirely preventable, and entirely her fault. Frustration had her choking back dry sobs, until her mother handed her a pair of leggings, a sports bra, and told her to go run it off.
The first life lesson she learned from that was that it was impossible to cry and run. The need to suck in air superseded any petulant tears. The second lesson? It was possible to run off just about any bad mood. Or at least the worst of it. She really hoped that translated in a foreign country.
Because that ridiculous argument with her brother and her bodyguard wasn’t out of her system. Sure, Christian delivered his edict and left as though everything was resolved.
Nothing was resolved.
Except for a much stronger feeling that she did not belong here.
Kelsey paused at the end of the raked gravel path to get her bearings. Right in front of her was an oversize pond shooting off a fifteen-foot fountain. About a hundred steps led up to a towering brick arch topped by four golden horses pulling what she assumed to be her (give or take a few greats) great-great-grandfather. With at least another hundred steps down the other side, it seemed like a big enough challenge to sweat out her mood.
Righteous indignation got her up the first fifty steps. Righteous fury the next fifty. And the surprise fifty after that? Kelsey let the oldie but goodie “life’s not fair” propel her to the top.
Thank goodness there was a stone balustrade to hang on to as she bent over and panted. To her mom’s point, concentrating on breathing did clear out all the other stuff. For a few minutes, anyway, until she straightened to take in the view. A fairy-tale palace, colorful flowers in meticulous patterns around reflecting pools…and a bodyguard running hell-for-leather toward her.
Elias had ditched his suit jacket, revealing the shoulder holster strapped around the white shirt that barely contained his muscles. It was like watching an action movie hero coming to rescue her. Until Kelsey remembered that Elias represented the problems and the palace she was running from.
So she took off down the steps on the other side without a sufficient rest. Pain stabbed rhythmically under her ribs. Her calves burned, too. In a palace with so many employees, maybe there was an early Zumba class she could join? Or cardio kickboxing? Even if the instructor didn’t speak English, she could still follow most of the steps.
At the edge of the pond, Kelsey turned left. Away from the palace. Away from her new/original/infuriating family. Away from Elias. And promptly body slammed right into said bodyguard. Guess he knew a shortcut.
So much for running off her problems.
Elias curled his big, warm hands around her bare shoulders. “Your Highness, what are you doing?”
“Does this outfit not translate?” Kelsey looked down at the black spandex layered over her whole body. “It sure says running to me.”
His eyes flicked down and then up her body. “It says…something. Where’d you get the clothes? They don’t look like an outfit that Duchess Mathilde would pick out.”
Funny how Elias had asked exactly the wrong, most awkward question. Still, she didn’t want to lie to him. Kelsey also didn’t want another argument before she was done sweating out the last one. “Are you going to yell at me if I tell you?”
He let go. Stepped back and crossed his arms with patronizing amusement blaring from the smirk that lifted his lips. “Should I?”
“No. No, you most certainly should not get that stern tone in your voice and aim it in my direction ever again.”