Chapter 8

8

ADRIAN

Reginald threatened to quit.

Not in so many words, but the implication was there. Reginald's position has changed over the years from the steward of the royal household to the steward of…me. I'm not exactly sure how that happened. My mother says I latch on to people, which I suppose is true enough, considering Mrs. Glenn. And the single father and his son I'm having dinner with tonight. But not many people. Just certain people.

Reginald insisted we needed my protection detail on our impromptu trip across the Atlantic, especially after everything with the wedding. I was strongly against that. It would garner more attention, especially in a small town, and be a logistics nightmare.

But most of my resistance had to do with Isaac. I'm not ashamed of my family. Or my position. I just want Isaac to see past all of that. To see me as a person. The way he had at our first meeting. He thought you were a vagrant. And he'd still liked me.

Reginald finally agreed to my plan. Probably because I'd proven that I could and would implement it with or without him.

Which is how we found ourselves in Mule Creek, Missouri, a quaint town with less than five thousand people, small shops, a fountain in the middle of the town square, and a restaurant owned by a grumpy Irishman.

"You can sit wherever you want," he says in a growly voice as he gestures toward the main seating area.

Christy's Café is small, with well-worn tables and pictures of tractors lining the walls. Mixed in with the farm equipment are signs for Murphy's Irish Pub and Guinness. Do they serve alcohol, or is it for decoration?

The owner is a big man with red hair, a short beard, and a crooked nose that makes his face a bit more interesting. Or it would if he wasn't currently glowering at us. Mostly me.

Isaac chooses a table in the middle of the diner. I move to sit next to Isaac, but Simon points to the chair next to him with a hopeful look that I can't resist.

Once we are settled, Mr. Christy hands us menus. When he gets to Simon, the boy holds out his fist. The man grins, completely changing his face. He bumps Simon's fist with his own and they spread their fingers out with a pow sound.

I'm not fond of this man, but the way he treats Simon helps a bit. Is he a softie under that gruff exterior? He hands Simon crayons and paper.

Isaac stares around the empty space with wide eyes. Simon asks the question.

"Where is everyone?"

"Mr. Christy was good enough to let us have the place to ourselves."

"It's just Christy," Simon informs me as the man grunts and folds his arms.

"Lanie, stop gawking and get their drink orders."

I follow his gaze to a teenage girl with the same red hair. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me. "Hello, Lanie," I say with a smile. She squeaks and runs off.

"Oh, hell." Christy scratches his beard. "Sorry about my daughter. We weren't prepared for all this and, well, she's been obsessed with you—I mean your wedding—" He breaks off. Is he remembering the wedding was called off and is now coming to his own conclusions as to why?

"It's fine. I apologize for the inconvenience." The man is being well-compensated, but that doesn't mean anything. "We just have things to discuss and?—"

Reginald clears his throat. Right. Stop giving so much away.

Christy takes our drink orders. "I'm not sure she's coming back."

"I'm sorry…"

"Dontcha worry about it. This made her year. Except for the fact that she can't tell her friends."

An NDA to go out to dinner. Story of my life. After he leaves, giving us time to peruse the menu, I catch Isaac staring at me. "Is everything all right?"

He shakes his head with a laugh. "This is unreal." His eyes dart to mine. "But in a good way."

"Why's Reggie eating by himself?" Simon waves at my steward seated at a table close to ours and says in a louder voice, "There's a chair over here." Reginald shakes his head, but he has a small smile.

"You are so sweet, Simon. Reggie—" How do I explain I don't want my parental figure watching my every move? And it was Reginald's idea.

"Reggie needs some time to himself," Isaac says, squeezing his arm.

"To feel his feelings? Did you bring Stella?"

As Isaac reassures Simon that Reginald is fine, I can't help staring. The love between father and son has my chest aching. Anything that happens with the reporter and Isaac's ex-wife will be my fault. Isaac gives me a questioning look, and I push all that away. I only get a short amount of time with Isaac and Simon. I don't want to waste it.

I ask Simon if I can draw with him, and he hands me a crayon and shares his paper. Isaac watches us with a smile and a warm look.

We order our food, and Lanie helps carry it out when it's ready. She gives me a shy smile, but when I thank her, her face turns red and she darts for the door.

"Lanie has horses. She's going to teach me to ride." Simon twirls spaghetti on his fork and then sticks the entire thing in his mouth.

"Is she? That's very nice of her."

Simon opens his mouth to respond, and I get to see his food again.

"Close your mouth while you chew." Isaac tucks a napkin into Simon's collar just as a glob of sauce falls from his fork and lands in his lap. Isaac hands him another napkin, and Simon attempts to clean up his mess. "Lanie is Simon's cousin. Christy is his uncle." There's something in his words that's left unsaid, but I don't press. Is that why Isaac wanted to eat here?

"And," Isaac continues, "Lanie only has one horse she keeps at a friend's farm." At my curious look, Isaac points up. "Christy and Lanie live above the diner. No room for a horse here."

Simon giggles.

While we eat, Simon tells me about his friends at daycare, the wedding shop Isaac also works at, and Justine, the emu. He pauses long enough to ask if he can have ice cream for dessert. Isaac stops him several times to remind him to eat. I can't help grinning. Watching them together warms my heart.

We're almost done with the meal when the interrogation begins.

"Do you have a middle name?" Simon asks between spoonfuls of ice cream.

"I have several actually. My full name is Adrian Nicholas Edward Cordolini, the Third. Prince of Lutiana."

He stares at me. "That's a long name. I bet you get tired of writing it."

I laugh. "It is." I have a stamp, but I keep that to myself.

"What's your mom's name?"

"Catherine."

"Your dad's name?"

"Um…" I glance at Isaac. His eyes sparkle with amusement. "Adrian."

"Just like you?"

"Just like me."

"Wow." He's impressed for a few seconds but then moves on. "Do you have a brother or sister?"

"A brother named Phillipe. And before you ask. That's it. No other siblings."

"What's your dog's name?"

"You think I have a dog?"

Simon tilts his head as if he hasn't considered the possibility of me not having a dog. This lasts a millisecond. "Yes."

"Well, you're wrong. I don't have a dog. I have ten dogs." I hold up my fingers for emphasis.

Isaac is watching me but glances over at his son and laughs. Simon is so stunned his ice cream is melting off his spoon. "Ten dogs?"

"Yes."

"Daddy, can we?—"

"No," Isaac says before he can even finish that thought.

Simon takes it in stride. "What did you name them?" he asks, finally finishing the spoonful of ice cream.

"Sadly, I did not get to name any of them."

Simon stares at me as if that's the worst thing ever. As he opens his mouth to interrogate me more, possibly asking for my place of birth or bank account numbers, Isaac shakes his head. "Let him eat, Simon. Finish your ice cream."

As he returns to his dessert, I lean over. "I'm not used to being questioned so thoroughly, Simon. How did you know what to ask?"

He shrugs. "I'm five."

I laugh, and it feels so good to be free to…feel my feelings, as Simon says. I catch Isaac's fond gaze and warmth wraps around my heart. "Fair point."

I want to ask questions of my own. About Isaac's job and that wanker Paul. About his life and how he does so much on his own when I can't do anything. People are paid to take care of me. Cook for me, clean for me, hell, even dress me. I'm amazed by this man, but none of those questions are appropriate in front of Simon. Or possibly at all.

Isaac tells me about Zye, the boss he likes. Which implies that he doesn't like his other boss. Simon tells me about the parade and Justine's obsession with sparkly things.

"I can tell you love animals."

Simon nods his head. "Guess my favorite." He raises his chin as if he expects me to fail. And honestly, that is likely. But I give it my best shot.

I tap my finger as I think, although I already have my answer. "Giraffes."

Simon's mouth drops open, and I glance at Isaac. He has the same look on his face. "How did you guess that?"

"You bought Simon that giraffe smooshy thing."

"Squishmallow," Simon says with a look that tells me I should have known that.

"Right. And you said it was your favorite. And, unless I'm mistaken, this is a giraffe." I tap the picture he drew. The giraffe has an enormous belly. I'm not sure if that's intentional or just the way he draws animals.

He beams at me. "This is Noelle. She's my favorite."

I nod, but I'm not sure what to say. Isaac grins as he takes another bite of his ice cream. Strawberry. Simon loves chocolate and vanilla swirled together. "Noelle?"

"You know…Noelle."

"I'm sorry. I should know?—"

"Prince Adrian lives in another country, Simon. He doesn't know Noelle or that she's about to have a baby. She's at the Kansas City Zoo. The baby is expected any time now. Simon is so excited."

"I can see that."

"We're going to see her on my birthday." His eyes get wide, and I groan to myself. I already know what's coming. "Can you come with us?"

Isaac shakes his head, and my stomach sinks. "You can't just invite people to your birthday."

"Why not?" Simon asks with a shrug of his little shoulders. "It's my birthday. And you said it was family only."

"Right," Isaac says as if this settles it.

"Adrian is family." He says it as if it's an indisputable fact, and I forget how to breathe.

It's not even a little true, but my heart swells, wanting to believe it. I give Isaac a weak smile. "I have to check if I can make it," I tell Simon. "I don't want to get your hopes up."

He tilts his head. "Do you have to check with Reggie? We can ask him now."

I laugh because I'm sure it seems like Reginald is my keeper, and okay, maybe he is. A little.

Isaac gives me an apologetic smile. "Slow down, bud. Okay?"

"I'll try," I say, knowing it's the wrong thing when Isaac groans.

"My birthday is August 31 st . You might want to put it in your phone. That's what Daddy does so he doesn't forget things."

"Yes, of course." I dutifully pull out my mobile phone and add Simon's birthday. "Maybe I should get your daddy's number so I can let you know if I can make it."

"Smooth." But Isaac is grinning as he gives me his number and I add it. I don't look at Reginald. I already know the disapproval will be there.

We finish dessert and Reginald stands, signaling the evening is over. Good God. I do have a keeper. I thank Christy and his daughter for the wonderful meal, and he gives me a half-grunt that sounds like thank you. She blushes and smiles, her eyes darting from Isaac to me.

"Can I have this picture?" Simon asks, holding up the paper. I'd sketched my favorite painting in the palace. A flock of birds in flight.

Isaac stares at the picture and then at me. "You drew this? Just now?"

"Yes." I glance away, my stomach churning uneasily. His eyes seem to be full of appreciation, but doodling is frivolous. I'm not sure I can bear to hear those words from Isaac.

"It's beautiful."

Warmth is in his voice and his eyes—when I'm brave enough to look—allows me to soak up his praise like the ground soaks up the rain after a dry summer. "Thank you. Of course, you can have it, Simon. I drew it for you."

I don't realize the issue until we're on our way to Isaac's home. How are we going to do this? Should I follow him into the house? I can't just invite myself in. The ride isn't long, but Simon falls asleep.

"It's been a big day for him. First a parade and then dinner with a prince." Isaac runs his fingers through Simon's hair affectionately, and I long for that. A bond with someone? Isaac's attention on me? His hands in my hair, comforting me? But my imagination doesn't want to stop there.

Isaac's hands are now what I need to think about. I turn away to hide my reaction. Although it's dark in the back of the car. "Big day for me too." Isaac's voice is soft but filled with something.

Emotion chokes me, and I clear my throat. "Same."

"You said we need to talk." He stares at Simon's sweet face. His long lashes against his cheeks.

I'm not sure how Isaac will react, but it probably won't be good. I catch Reginald's eyes in the mirror and silently ask my question. He nods. I suggest we talk outside, and Isaac agrees. Moving Simon so he's lying on the seat, he follows me out of the car.

I'm unsure how to start, but I know I'm not ready. However, Simon could wake up at any moment. Someone could see us. Thankfully, it's dark, but I don't want to mess things up more than I already have.

I kick my foot against the curb of his driveway. We didn't pull in. Although now that seems like too small of a concession. "Thank you for an amazing evening."

Isaac grins. "I think that's my line."

"Go ahead, then."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Too late."

I bite my lip. It's now or never. I cup his face with my hands. His skin is soft with a hint of stubble. Nervous bubbles pop in my stomach. "May I kiss you, Isaac?"

He stares at me as if he can sense every worry I have. Every vulnerable spot left open by people caring about my title more than me. "Yes, please."

I almost laugh in relief. A cool breeze sweeps across my heated cheeks as I brush my lips against his. He leans into the kiss, and I pull him close. He tastes like strawberries and coffee. I deepen the kiss, worried this will be the only chance I get. His tongue slides against mine and his soft groan has our sweet kisses exploding into more. Isaac clutches my jacket as we explore each other's mouths. I could kiss this man forever.

A knocking sound has us pulling apart, and I struggle to catch my breath, grateful it's only Reginald.

Kissing Isaac has me forgetting everything. And that's both amazing and terrifying.

"Sorry," I say softly, giving him a crooked grin. "I got carried away."

His eyes are slightly dazed. "It happens."

"We still need to talk."

Reginald lowers the window and pop music flows out of the SUV. "Simon woke up, so we're listening to Taylor Swift. It might be better to talk in the car."

Once we're settled inside, Reginald shuts the glass partition so they can't hear us and we can't hear the music. There's also a privacy screen he can put up so we can't see them, but he leaves that down for now.

"Is this okay?"

He watches Simon dance in his seat, singing along with the song. "Yes, but um…probably no kissing." His cheeks turn pink, and I want to pull him back into my arms. After our talk, he probably won't want to kiss me again.

I nod and take a deep breath. "Why don't you like your boss? Not Zye. The other one."

He shifts in the seat, his hands brushing the leather as if wanting to memorize the feel. "Is this what you needed to talk about?"

"No. But you mentioned it at dinner, and—that guy at your office was a bit of a jerk."

"Paul is my ex," he says with a sigh, "and only part of the problem."

"What's the other part?"

He studies me, and I'm not sure what he sees. "I like you, Adrian. A lot. But you're a prince. I'm an accountant and a single parent and—" He stops and shakes his head. "Tell me what you need to tell me."

This is it. I can't keep putting it off. He deserves to know. "A reporter stopped by the palace a few days ago."

He mouths the word palace, and I want to touch him. Regain that connection between us. But I resist. "There's a picture of you and me. Together," I add so he understands my meaning.

"What? Where? How?"

"We think the reporter took it. He's been a problem for our family for years." I pull out my mobile and show him the picture. His first reaction is to melt and touch the screen. Then his eyes dart to mine. "Is this going to be trouble for you? I'm so sorry, Adrian."

I give in and take his hand, squeezing it. " I kissed your hand, remember? Stop being so sweet." I hesitate, unable to meet his eyes. "He plans to go public with it unless we give him an exclusive. He has a source."

"I don't understand. It was nothing… Well, not nothing, clearly," he says with a crooked grin. "But nothing happened. I'm nobody." He laughs helplessly and shrugs. "What am I missing, Adrian?"

"The reason it's problematic is the source and what she wants."

"Okay." He twists his hands together and frowns. "Please just tell me."

I swallow my nervousness. I can do this. Shatter this man's world. My eyes catch on Simon and Reginald singing a song together, and I want to scream in frustration. I take a deep breath. "His source is Jane Brandt, Simon's mother."

He jerks away from me like he's been shot. "Jane? But how? Why?" He laughs bitterly. "God, I shouldn't be surprised. Don't give in to her, Adrian. She just wants money to buy drugs."

The silence in the car is unnerving, and I want to put the partition down and let the happiness back in. "According to Weiss—he's the reporter—she's not asking for money, Isaac."

"Really?" His face scrunches, and I get distracted. His nose is the cutest thing. "But that's always her goal." He tilts his head. "What does she want?"

I hesitate, wanting to hold on to this—Isaac here with me. Simon and Reginald dancing in the front seat—for just one moment longer. I squeeze his hands, needing to touch him, and then I let go. "She wants to see Simon."