Chapter Fourteen

ONE WEEK I’D been hiding out at Presti’s. As much as I enjoyed my seclusion, my will wasn’t strong enough to stop me looking at what the press had to say about my disappearance. They had daily updates. Speculation ran the gamut from a simple case of me lying low to let things settle down after the infamous photo, to theories I’d been hustled off to some kind of pray-the-gay-away camp.

My family maintained their dignified silence. Though they’d reached out to me, I’d only sent text replies. I wasn’t ready to hear their voices. I couldn’t stand the thought of hearing underlying disappointment in me.

Presti had offered to skip classes and spend the days with me. As much as I’d wanted his company, I’d declined his offer though. I refused to be more of a burden to him than I already was. If the press found out I was here, his life would blow up in ways he could not begin to imagine. Truthfully, only a small miracle had allowed me to remain undiscovered for this long.

While I missed Presti’s calming presence during the days, at least I could comfort myself that the nights were ours. Penelope remained at Howard’s and Astrid, too, appeared to be keeping her distance. Perhaps they’d made an agreement to give us some privacy. While I relished the time alone with him, I did not want Presti’s family to feel as if they had to stay away.

In fact, we’d had something like an argument about it. Each stood our ground until we’d agreed to spend time with Astrid and Larry at her father’s house tonight. I wasn’t afraid to admit I was looking forward to it. I refused to upend Presti’s life more than I had.

Over the last six days, I’d, perhaps foolishly, let Presti chip away at the walls entrenched around my heart. I’d cracked the door, and he’d barged right in. In my guts I knew this could only lead to hurt, but I was helpless to stop him.

I was still searching for the courage to confirm the rumours about me, let alone present a boyfriend to the world. And how would Presti cope with the invasion of his privacy? Would he even want to? What were the chances he’d find me worthy enough to upend his life for?

Yes, we’d spent a wonderful week together. We’d talked, some nights until the early morning hours. We’d even made out several times on the couch before bed, soft lazy kisses, unhurried, easy. Every moment we spent together had been comfortable.

But if we went public, if I asked Presti to be with me, his life would never be the same. The microscope of public opinion and intrusion would consume everything and everyone Presti cared about. How could I possibly be worth that? How could I ask him to even consider that?

“James,” Presti murmured, slipping up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. His breath tickled my nape, his lips barely touching my skin there. “What are you pondering?”

Every cell in my body flared to living colour at his touch, my soul stretching toward his. I wanted to be honest with him, to share my hopes and fears. But how could I be the cause of his ruin? And I knew being in the public eye might well destroy this wonderful, amazing man. I felt on the verge of destruction from it myself, and I’d been born into it, raised to live with the odd curiosity people had with royalty.

“I think…well, it may be time for me to go home,” I answered, the words like ash on my tongue.

“So soon,” Presti murmured.

“I’ve hidden for over a week. I should go.”

“You don’t need to leave on our account, James. We’re all very happy to have you with us.” Presti released me, then circled around to face me. A soft blush shaded his handsome face, illuminating the spattering of freckles across his nose. My god, he took my breath away every single time I laid eyes on him.

“I, especially, like having you here,” he added.

“I like being here, too, but I have a life to get back to, Presti. A duty.”

He stiffened, a bloom of hurt bursting in the blue of his eyes. “Yes, of course.” Presti cleared his throat, straightened his already ramrod straight spine. “When shall you go?”

As much as I knew my words hurt him, I also knew this was a small ache compared to the agony trying to share a life with me would bring to him. I would bear the pain of his loss because I would not survive hurting Presti more. “In the next day or two. I haven’t made arrangements yet, but it’s time.”

Presti nodded, clenching his fists as if pulling himself together. “Well, for now, then, let’s visit Astrid and Paul as promised.” He turned and marched toward the front door. After the Scrabble tournament he’d very clearly expressed his concern about my eventual departure. We’d both known it would happen; we weren’t stupid. But I should not have allowed us to get so close in the meantime.

“As promised,” I muttered.

The walk to Astrid’s small unit over a sex shop was painfully quiet. I didn’t know how to fix things with Presti, and maybe it would be better, easier for him, if I didn’t try. If he hated me, he wouldn’t hurt when I left.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Presti,” I said as we took the stairs up to Astrid’s door. He had to know I’d rather set myself on fire than hurt him.

He jumped as if I’d startled him from his thoughts. “Nonsense. I am not hurt. I wasn’t expecting your departure, which makes me something of a ninnyhammer because, of course, you must go home. Your family must be quite frantic with worry. I was being selfish wanting you to stay, because I will miss you.”

“Please don’t say that,” I whispered, my will to leave his side weakening, though I knew I must.

“Why not? It’s true. Not many people stay in my life, James. Not many want to, so I tend to jealously hoard the ones who do.”

“Anybody…” I said, stepping forward to close the distance between us. “Anybody who does not wish to have you in their life is the ninnyhammer, Presti.” My fingers curled around the back of his neck as I eased him closer. His lips were warm and yielding against mine as he accepted my kiss. Christ, I would miss this.

But I could not see a way to keep Presti and leave his happiness intact.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to happen upon this little spectacle,” Larry said, interrupting us as he came up the stairs. “Astrid will be most vexed she missed it.”

“We are not a public spectacle,” Presti said with a smile in his voice.

“Then you shouldn’t bloody well pash in a public locale.” Larry winked.

“Yes. Right. Quite true.” Presti fumbled and fidgeted, yet at least didn’t seem to regret our kiss.

Larry laughed and edged past us to open the door to Astrid’s home.

“You have a key?” Presti blurted.

“Oh yes. There was a ceremony and everything. She gave it to me in a velvet-lined box. Said it was more important than a wedding ring, given that marriage is a dead institution,” Larry answered as we stepped inside.

“It is?” I asked. Nobody had informed me of the demise of matrimony.

“Mm,” Presti replied, as he often did. To Larry he said, “You know she still wants to marry you.”

“And she shall,” Larry answered just as Astrid rounded the corner and stepped into his waiting arms. “Caught these two pashing at the front door.”

“Ooh, how delightful. I must say this thing between you two has exceeded all my expectations.” Astrid gave a little clap.

“It has?” Presti questioned just as I asked, “What expectations?”

“Well, it must be like a fairy tale, mustn’t it? There is a prince and a commoner facing all sorts of obstacles to be together and find their happy ever after.”

“Oh god,” Presti groaned.

I…well, I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Because this wasn’t a fairy tale and there would be no happy ever after for Presti and me. Not together anyway. I still hoped Presti would find someone one day who could make him happy, keep him happy. That person wasn’t me. Prince James could not make Presti happy.

“Astrid, you’re mortifying His Highness. Tone it down a notch.” An older man with eyes that were identical to his daughter’s came into the room.

Paul Bomalier, silver-haired, tall and striking, was the silveriest fox I’d ever met. I mean, this man should be on the cover of GQ . He’d give George Clooney a run for his money. And I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘ wow’ ,” Presti said, smirking and raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. I mean…” I trailed off, unwilling to add anything further to this already awkward conversation.

“Right? I’ve said it many times, but you are a fox, Mr Bomalier.” Presti laughed and hugged Astrid’s father.

“And if I was twenty years younger…and gay?” Paul responded.

Astrid rolled her eyes fondly. “You two are ridiculous.”

“It’s good to meet you, Your Highness,” Paul said, offering his hand to me.

I shook it and replied, “Please, just call me James. It’s good to meet you too.”

“Come on in.”

We followed behind Paul, Astrid and Larry arm in arm, Presti silent at my side.

Though smaller than Presti’s home, the unit had as much warmth and homeyness. Books were everywhere: in cases, stacked on the floor, covering tables. There must have been thousands of them.

“You have an amazing collection of books,” I said.

“They’re mine and Astrid’s really. We are both bibliophiles. Do you read much, James?” Paul asked as he gestured to a seat for me.

“Not as much as I’d like. My time isn’t really my own.”

Paul took the seat opposite me, Presti at my side, Astrid almost in Larry’s lap in the armchair. “No, I suppose it’s not,” Paul replied. “Must be difficult.”

“There are definitely some things I want but can’t have because of who I am.” My gaze flicked to Presti despite my order for it not to. “I shouldn’t complain though. There are worse lives I could lead.”

“But there could be better,” Paul said wistfully. “I know quite well about having your choices taken away from you. If it weren’t for my agoraphobia, I’d be living a different life, even though, like you, I know mine could be worse.”

I offered Paul a smile. He was an incredibly attractive man and seemed lovely. I could only imagine what his life might be if not for his agoraphobia.

“Enough of that though,” Paul said. “Dinner is almost ready, and then we’ll play charade karaoke.”

“I don’t know that game.”

“It’s easy. We’ll explain.” Presti turned to Paul. “Dare I hope you’ve cooked your amazing carbonara?”

“Of course.” Paul smiled. “Would I serve you anything else?”

“No. But I do worry Astrid may hijack the kitchen.”

Talk descended into a mock argument about Astrid’s skill in the kitchen and somehow morphed into something of a competition over who amongst them was best at a variety of skills. Easy, kind-hearted conversation and fun. These types of interactions I rarely had with anyone but most especially not my family.

Growing up in the palace, I knew, of course, my family was different in many ways from most others, but I’d never felt that difference more acutely than over this past week. I wanted what Presti and his family had. Desperately.

However, what I wanted and what I got were often two different things.

“So, we’re really going to sing?” I asked, desperate for a distraction from yearning for all things Presti. Where he was concerned, I’d leapt head first into dangerous territory. The time for being careful with my feelings had passed before I’d even realised there was danger in being around Presti.

“Oh yes,” Presti answered. “Don’t worry if you don’t sing well. It could not be worse than Paul’s!”

“Hey! My singing isn’t that bad,” Paul groused.

“It isn’t that good either,” Astrid replied.

“I think he has quite a lovely, melodic voice,” Larry added.

Paul barked a laugh. “There is no need to truckle, Larry. I already approve of you dating my daughter.” Paul leaned over to ruffle Larry’s hair, his eyes glowing as he looked at his daughter.

“Yes. You approve…now, but we all recall the fiasco of introductory dinner 2022.” Astrid smiled.

“Hey. It was not my fault. I was choking on spinach.”

“Poor Larry regurgitated much of his meal on Paul’s lap,” Presti whispered to me.

“Oh.”

“Mm. Quite a…sticky situation.”

Listening to Presti, to Larry, Astrid, and Paul, and listening to every interaction during the last week, I couldn’t decide if it was wrong of me to be jealous or not. All I knew for certain was that my heart had this tear, a little ache which seemed to be growing. I yearned for something, maybe Presti—I knew I wanted him—maybe the close connection he shared with his family and friends. All I knew was I yearned for something urgently. I needed to satiate this need, or it might just kill me.

A little dramatic perhaps, but I wanted to mend the rip in my heart. I wanted to be filled with warmth and friendship and love. And I had a healthy suspicion that Presti was the key. But in reaching for my happiness, would I destroy Presti’s? That was the question I didn’t know—didn’t want to know—the answer to.

Dinner was amazing. Not just the food, the company also. Though it was still early, this felt like the best night of my life. I never wanted it to end, yet I knew it was coming. Home and duty called to me, a soft whisper that was getting louder every day.

“Are you ready for charade karaoke?” Presti asked as we cleared the table.

“Explain it to me?”

“Quite simple. Choose a song and a book. Sing the song but exchange the words for the first page or so of the book. Winner is first to pick either the song or book title. Double points if you pick both.” Presti leaned over to pack the dishwasher, but he looked back up at me, and his smile was…blinding.

“I don’t know the words of any book like that.” My god, I predicted making a colossal fool of myself in my near future.

“Oh no, well, of course not. Who does? Except Paul, but we can use an iPad. Paul has thousands of books on it.”

I watched Presti as he worked. Light and shadows flickering on the supple muscles of his arms, his thighs. He was beautiful. So damn beautiful. Inside and out. I craved his beauty, wanted to hoard it for myself, stay in the orbit of his loveliness for as long as I could.

“Okay. I’ll play…if, if you swear to me, you will not laugh at me.”

Presti froze, his body rigid with tension. “Is that what you think of me?” He would not turn around, would not look at me.

“No. No, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, Presti. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’ve been laughed at my entire life, James. I always knew they were laughing at me, even when people tried to hide it. I don’t care, not anymore, but I’d never laugh at others. Not when I know how much it can hurt.”

Jesus .

“Presti, look at me. Please.”

Slowly, he turned around, his eyes shining, the moonlight catching the glow. So damn beautiful. I took a gentle step toward him. Slow. Hesitant. My finger stroked the soft skin of his cheek; my palm cupped the warm flesh.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, then leaned in closer. “You take my breath away, Presti. I’ve never met anybody like you.” A soft sigh escaped from Presti’s lips, a gentle want. I kissed him then. With all the need I felt for him.

Our bodies pressed together, his fingers in my hair, mine in his. Christ, I wanted him. “Presti,” I gasped.

“Mm.” His murmur vibrated through me; his scent surrounded me. His presence in my arms consumed me, and I never wanted to part from him again.

But how could I drag him into my world? How could I let the press and the public rip him apart, sour his sweetness? They would pick him to pieces and devour whatever remained.

There’d be tomorrow to think about leaving him, to worry how I’d ever survive the separation. Tonight, I wanted to enjoy myself, enjoy him. I pressed my lips to his again, kissed him with everything I had in me. Revelled in the feeling of him melting under my touch. His heated skin against mine felt like a match to tinder. A few more minutes of this and I’d combust.

“I am sorry to interrupt,” Astrid said after clearing her throat, “but we must begin. Poor Larry has work early in the morning, and if he doesn’t get his eight hours…”

Presti groaned, matching my own frustrated sigh. “Very well. Shall we draw straws?”

“We already have. You’re up first, Presti.”

“Wonderful. Let’s begin. Come on, James.”

I followed Presti back into the warmly furnished living room and took my seat. For a moment, Presti stood before us, silent and contemplative, his eyes closed. Then he opened them, looked directly at me and began to sing.

His voice was beautiful, mesmerizing, but, then, to me, everything about him was. He’d never make a career singing, but he could hold a tune. I closed my eyes and listened. The strength of his voice filled me, wrapping me up in a world made up of nothing but Presti. He cocooned me, sheltered me from the crazy that had been all I’d known before I met this strange boy with the unusual name and the brilliant way of living his life.

Oh god.

I was falling for him.

“‘Resolution’ is the song!” Astrid shouted.

“ The Great Gatsby is the book,” Larry yelled barely a second later.

Presti smiled his blinding smile and laughed his intoxicating laugh. And I fell thoroughly under his spell.

Paul went next and then Larry. Though they both sang tolerably well, they were nothing to Presti. Jesus, I couldn’t take my mind off him. Astrid stood to take her turn, and I pried my gaze from Presti. Just as she began to sing, a phone rang. Paul jumped up to answer it.

Whoever called, they brought a smile to Paul’s lips. At first. Then he frowned, his gaze darting to mine, holding there. Something was wrong.

“He is,” Paul said. “Silkie…okay.”

“Dad? “Astrid asked when Paul ended the call and came to stand before us.

“That was Silkie,” he muttered, his gaze now unable to land on me.

“And?” Astrid pressed.

“She says the media is here. Downstairs. Outside her store. They’ve been asking her where Prince James is.”

Oh god.

“They know he’s here?” Presti asked, his tone panicked.

“Apparently.”

“What do we do?” Larry asked. Nobody would look my way.

“I’m not sure.” Finally, Paul glanced at me. “He’s welcome to stay here, of course. But I don’t think he wants to hide out in Kincumber forever.”

Yes. I do.

“We could call in a bomb threat,” Astrid said. “Draw their attention elsewhere.”

“I’m quite sure they’re not those kinds of journalists, my dear,” Larry answered. “I’d wager nothing, regardless how big of a drama it was, could divert their attention.”

“We could call the police to have them removed,” offered Presti. “Constable Dickens has quite forgiven me for that unfortunate incident. He’d come to our aid.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. How could such a wonderful time turn into a nightmare in the space of a second.

Presti stood, walked to me, and kneeled at my feet, his warm hands gripped mine where they rested in my lap. He’d be able to feel me trembling, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. “This is not your fault, James.” He lifted my hands, kissed my knuckles. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I brought my crazy to your doorstep. They won’t leave any of you alone now.”

“Unless we can convince them you were never here,” Paul said.

“How? They must have been tipped off. Perhaps they already have a photo of me coming and going. They might have been stalking me this whole time.”

“Silkie seemed to think they didn’t know much at all. She’s coming up to see what she can do.”

“Oh god,” Presti groaned. “She’s going to kill me for not telling her about you.”

“You’d best brace yourself, James,” Larry added. “Silkie can be…a lot.”

As if conjured by our discussion of her, there was a knock at the door. Paul stalked out of the room to answer it but was back in seconds with an aging drag queen in tow.

“Oh my,” she gasped breathily, fanning herself dramatically. “It’s true then.”

Silke strode further into the room, her large eyes locked on mine. She curtsied so low I wondered if she’d get back up again. When she did, she pointed to where Presti kneeled on the floor but did not look at him. “You, I will deal with later,” she snapped. “But for now, let’s get the prince out of here.”

“How?” Presti asked.

“Has anybody ever seen The Birdcage ?