12. Hailey

CHAPTER 12

HAILEY

T he room buzzes around us, the palace a veritable beehive of important activity. I stay planted to the expensive carpet, sweat collecting under my suit.

I knew that seeing Luca again would be hard, but I didn’t think it would be this hard.

My eyes swim with unshed tears as I recall our last night together. His soft smile. The warmth of his hand in mine. All feelings amplified now under the golden chandelier, amongst a sea of unfamiliar faces.

I take a deep breath, ready to introduce myself, to start this arduous journey. But before I can say anything, he speaks my name.

“Hailey.” My name on his lips sounds like a prayer. An apology. A plea.

My heart clenches in my chest, and I freeze, my professional demeanor slipping.

“Your Majesty,” I finally manage to choke out. “I am so sorry to hear about the king. It’s a terrible loss.”

My words are so formal that I want to cringe. It feels wrong to speak to Luca this way, and yet it’s what I must do. We’re standing in the middle of a palace, for God’s sake, surrounded by all sorts of important people.

“Thank you.” Luca’s face is coolly polite now, but his eyes tell a different story. A story of longing and regret. The man who introduced us has moved on, and I almost wish someone would take his place. As much as I want to be alone with Luca, it’s probably the worst thing for me right now.

“You’ve surprised me,” Luca admits after a drawn-out silence, his gaze never leaving mine.

“The feeling is mutual.” My voice shakes slightly around the edges. I will myself to steady my voice, to keep my emotions in check.

A low murmur ripples through the room as other conversations cease, all attention focused on us. Another heavy silence hangs in the air, like a thick fog settling between us. Luca glances at the others in the room, and they quickly divert their attention, suddenly acting as if we are the least interesting thing they’ve seen all day.

“I’m here to do my job,” I tell Luca, injecting more confidence into my tone than I feel. “I hope I won’t cause any inconvenience.”

His eyes flash at that, a moment of raw emotion before he sweeps it away, replacing it with the perfect facade of regal politeness.

“Of course not.” He smiles, but there’s no warmth behind it. “I’m looking forward to working closely with you, Ms. Warren.”

His words hang in the air, throwing my mind back to the last time we were this close. To stolen kisses and whispered confessions hidden under soft sheets.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I manage to reply, tearing my gaze away from his hypnotic eyes to look towards the crowd of officials.

Luca clears his throat. “Might I… speak to you in private for a minute?”

I blink. What for? Haven’t we already said all there is to say? Unless…

“Of course.” My heart rate picks up.

“There is a drawing room right this way.” He smiles.

My hands clench at my sides as he leads me away from the crowd, his shoulder blades pulled back tightly, revealing his stress. How is he doing after his father’s passing? Is it that that has him undone, or does he not want me here?

We walk across the hallway filled with portraits and sculptures. He opens a door and ushers me inside, the scent of old books and polished wood enveloping us. The drawing room is intimate, cozy even, with plush armchairs and shelves lined with leather-bound tomes.

Luca closes the door with a soft click, and suddenly we’re alone. Really, truly alone for the first time since that magical day, night, and brief morning. My heart hammers against my ribs, a hummingbird desperate to break free.

“Hailey, I…” he begins, then stops, running a hand through his golden hair. “I’m sorry for not meeting you at the fountain. I had every intention of being there, but then my father…”

His voice cracks, and instinctively, I reach out to lay a hand on his arm. “Luca, you don’t have to apologize. I understand. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He covers my hand with his, his touch tantalizing and forbidden. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He clears his throat, stepping back, as if he just realized he crossed a line, and my heart drops. He doesn’t even want to touch me.

Which means…

“I did send a messenger to let you know I had to leave suddenly,” he says. “I hope you received the message?”

“I… no.” I stare at him. “I didn’t.”

He frowns. “What? I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. When I found out your father had died, I didn’t expect you to send me any message.”

Of course, before I found out, I considered him to be the biggest asshole in the world. That part doesn’t need to be brought up, though…

Luca’s shoulders relax a fraction, and he offers me a small smile. “I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you.”

As if he ever could. As if I could ever forget him , this man who’s haunted my dreams and waking thoughts since the moment we met.

The care that he’s showing me now, the regret for not meeting me… it gives me hope. I was wrong to write him off. He does want me here.

In fact, it seems that the stiffness in the other room was merely a facade. Now that we are alone, he can let his mask down. We can go back to as we were before.

But I can’t say that, not now, not when he’s grieving and the responsibility for a kingdom rests on his shoulders. So, instead, I return his smile and say, “I knew you wouldn’t. And I’m here now, ready to do whatever I can to help tell your story.”

His gaze locks with mine, a wealth of unspoken emotions swirling in those blue depths. “I’m grateful for that, Hailey. More than you know.”

We stand there, lost in the moment, in the sheer magnetic pull that always seems to draw us together. But reality intrudes, the sound of footsteps and voices in the hallway reminding us that we’re not alone, that duty and propriety await.

Luca clears his throat, putting a respectable distance between us. The electric charge in the air dissipates, replaced by a stiff formality that feels alien after the intimacy we shared.

“While you’re here, I’ll have the staff prepare a room for you in the palace,” he says, his tone businesslike. “It will make shadowing me and conducting your interviews more convenient.”

My heart leaps at the prospect of staying in such close proximity to him, even as my journalist’s instinct warns me of the potential complications. “That’s very generous of you. I don’t want to impose…”

He waves off my concern. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do. Besides, it will be easier for both of us this way.”

I search his face, trying to glean some hint of his true feelings, wondering if this means there’s a chance for us to pick up where we left off. But his expression remains inscrutable, a polite mask that betrays nothing.

Gathering my courage, I venture, “Luca, about that night, about us… I know this might not be the right time, but I can’t help but wonder…”

His shoulders tense, and he looks away, his jaw clenching. “Hailey, I… I value the time we spent together, truly. But with everything that’s happened, with the responsibilities I now face… I’m afraid I have no place in my life for a relationship right now.”

His words knock the wind out of me. I blink back the sudden sting of tears, refusing to let him see how much his rejection hurts.

“I understand,” I manage, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears.

I get it, of course. How can I expect anything from him when his father has died and he’s to be coronated in a matter of weeks? I feel ashamed to have even brought up the matter of us in the first place.

An awkward silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things left unsaid. Desperate to break the tension, I ask softly, “How are you holding up, Luca? With your father’s passing, I mean. I can’t even imagine…”

He stiffens, his gaze turning distant. “I’m fine,” he says, the words ringing hollow. “It’s a difficult time, but I have a duty to my people, to my country. I can’t afford to let personal feelings get in the way.”

I nod, my heart aching for him, for the weight he carries on his shoulders. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all…”

“Thank you.” His smile is genuine, but tinged with sadness. “Having you here, telling my story… that’s more than enough.”

More than enough.

I try not to read into those words.

With that, he turns and opens the door for me, and I step through it, my heart a lump in my throat.

We rejoin the others in the grand hall, and I’m struck by the sudden change in Luca’s demeanor. He had a stiff upper lip when we were alone, but when he is with others, he takes composure to a whole new level, his face a perfect facade of royal decorum.

He greets the gathered officials and dignitaries with a charming smile, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as if he hasn’t a care in the world. I watch, equal parts amazed and unsettled by his ability to compartmentalize, to push aside his grief and be the leader his people need.

As he agrees to an impromptu interview with a local news crew, I feel a pang of guilt. Here I am, intruding on his life during what must be an incredibly difficult time, all for the sake of a story.

He’s doing this because he has to, because the alliance between our countries is more important than his personal feelings. And in that moment, I vow to make this article the best damn piece I’ve ever written, to do justice to the man behind the crown.

Lost in thought, I barely register when a member of the palace staff appears at my elbow, offering to show me to my room. I follow in a daze, my mind still reeling from the events of the day.

The room is breathtaking, all high ceilings and ornate furnishings, with a balcony that overlooks the sprawling palace gardens. But even as I drink in the opulence, I can’t shake the hollow feeling in my chest, the ache of longing for something I can’t have.

I sink onto the plush bed, hugging a pillow to my chest as I finally let the tears fall. I cry for Luca, for the pain he must be going through, for the way he’s forced to put on a brave face for the sake of his country. And selfishly, I cry for myself, for the foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, we could have had something real.

But I know that’s impossible now. Luca has made it clear that he has no room in his life for a relationship, and I have to respect that, no matter how much it hurts. I have a job to do, a story to write, and I can’t let my personal feelings get in the way.

With a shaky breath, I wipe away my tears and steel my resolve. I’ll be the best damn shadow Luca’s ever had, and I’ll write an article that will make The Morning Star proud. And maybe, just maybe, by the time this is all over, I’ll have found a way to mend my broken heart.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up, smoothing out my clothes and fixing my hair. I can’t let anyone see how much this is affecting me, especially not Luca. I have to be professional, focused, and above all, strong.

I make my way back out of my room and down the hallway, following the sound of voices until I find myself in a grand ballroom. Luca is there, surrounded by a gaggle of reporters and photographers, his smile practiced and perfect. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes.

I slip into the crowd, my notebook and pen at the ready. I listen carefully as Luca answers question after question, his responses polished and diplomatic. But every now and then, I catch a glimpse of the real Luca, the one I got to know that magical night in New York. A flash of humor, a hint of vulnerability.

It’s those moments that give me hope, even as my heart aches with every word he speaks. Maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance for us, if only I can find a way to break through his walls.

But for now, I have a job to do. I scribble furiously in my notebook, capturing every detail, every nuance. I’ll worry about my own feelings later. Right now, I have a story to write, and I’m determined to make it the best one yet.

As the press conference winds down and the reporters start to disperse, I linger at the edge of the room, watching as Luca shakes hands and exchanges pleasantries. And then, just for a moment, his eyes meet mine across the crowded room.

My breath catches in my throat, and I feel a rush of heat sweep through me. But just as quickly, the moment is gone, and Luca turns away, his attention drawn by another reporter.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. I can do this. I have to do this. For the sake of my career, for the sake of the story.

Even if it means breaking my own heart in the process.