13. Luca

CHAPTER 13

LUCA

I wake with a start, my heart racing and my sheets drenched in sweat. The crown already feels heavy on my head, even though my coronation is still weeks away. I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion that seems to cling to my every muscle.

Dragging myself out of bed, I practically crawl into the shower, where the scalding water cascades over my skin. As the steam rises around me, my thoughts drift to Hailey, to the night we spent together in New York. The way her body felt pressed against mine, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps as I explored every inch of her.

I lean my head against the cool tile, trying to push the memories away. I can’t afford to be distracted, not now. My country needs me, needs a king who is focused and strong. But even as I try to clear my mind, I can’t shake the image of her face, the way she looked at me with such trust and desire.

I step out of the shower and towel off, my movements mechanical as I go through the motions of getting dressed. I choose a dark suit, the fabric crisp against my skin. I know I’ll be in meetings all day, discussing trade agreements and diplomatic relations. There’s no room for error, no room for weakness.

As I knot my tie, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My face is drawn, my eyes shadowed. I look like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And in a way, I suppose I am.

Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders. I may be exhausted, but I won’t let it show. I have a duty to my people, to my country. And I won’t let them down, no matter the cost.

It’s quiet as I make my way down to the palace dining room, my footsteps echoing on the marble floors. The scent of coffee and pastries fills the air, but my stomach churns at the thought of food. I’m running on fumes, but I can’t afford to slow down.

As I enter the room, I freeze. Hailey is already there, seated at the long table. She looks up as I enter, her brown eyes widening slightly. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the tension thick between us.

That’s right. I forgot — she’ll be joining me at mealtimes, her attendance part of her constant shadowing.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” she says finally, her voice cool and professional.

I nod, taking my seat at the head of the table. “Good morning, Ms. Warren. I trust you slept well?”

She gives a tight smile. “Yes, thank you. The accommodations are lovely.”

We lapse into silence as the servants bring out breakfast. I pick at my food, my appetite gone. I can feel Hailey’s eyes on me, studying me, and I fight the urge to squirm.

“I’m looking forward to shadowing you today,” she says, breaking the silence. “I’m sure it will be very enlightening.”

I glance up at her, trying to read her expression. But she’s giving nothing away, her face a mask of polite interest.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid it won’t be very exciting,” I say, pushing my eggs around my plate. “Just a lot of meetings and paperwork.”

She shrugs. “That’s the job, isn’t it? I’m here to document it all, exciting or not.”

I frown, something about her tone rubbing me the wrong way. “And what exactly do you hope to document, Ms. Warren? The tedium of royal life?”

Her eyes flash, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the passion I remember from our night together. But then it’s gone, replaced by cool professionalism.

“I hope to document the truth, sir. Whatever that may be.”

It’s like a strange game we’re playing, an effort to see who can be more formal, more cool and collected.

I lean back in my chair, studying her. She meets my gaze unflinchingly, and I feel a grudging respect for her. She’s not going to make this easy on me.

But then again, nothing about this is going to be easy. I have a country to run, a crown to wear. And Hailey Warren is just one more complication I don’t need.

The first meeting of the day is with my advisors to discuss the upcoming coronation. I try to focus on their words, but my mind keeps drifting to the woman sitting beside me, her pen scratching quietly against her notepad.

I can feel the heat of her body, so close to mine. I remember the feel of her skin against my own, the taste of her lips. Clenching my jaw, I do my best to banish the memories.

“Sir?” Stefan’s voice snaps me back to the present. “Do you have any thoughts on the guest list?”

I blink, scrambling to recall what he just said. “Ah, yes. Let’s keep it small. Close family and friends only.”

He nods, making a note. “Very good, sir,” he says, although what I’ve just proposed is highly unconventional. Typically, hundreds if not thousands are invited to coronations.

The meeting continues, but I find it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Hailey’s presence is like a physical weight pressing down on me. I’m hyperaware of her every movement, every breath.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the meeting ends. I stand, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. Hailey rises as well, her movements graceful and fluid.

“Shall we?” I gesture towards the door, trying to keep my voice steady.

She nods, falling into step beside me as we exit the room. Our hands brush accidentally, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. I jerk away, but not before I see the flash of something in her eyes. Longing, perhaps. Or regret.

I quicken my pace, putting some distance between us. What was I thinking, walking so close to her? Of course we would end up touching. Then again, maybe that’s what I wanted…

As I stride down the hall, I can feel her eyes on me, burning into my back. And I know that no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to escape the memories of our night together. They’ll haunt me, just as she does.

We reach my office, and I hold the door open for Hailey. She brushes past me, her scent enveloping me for a brief moment. Vanilla and jasmine, just like I remember.

I follow her inside, closing the door behind us. The room suddenly feels too small, too intimate. I move to my desk, putting it between us like a barrier.

“So,” I say, shuffling some papers, “next is a meeting with the finance minister at eleven, followed by a luncheon with the ambassador from France. Then in the afternoon, there’s a session with the parliament to discuss the budget.”

“The finance minister?” She tilts her head. She asks something else — I’m sure she does — but I’m too distracted by the wave of hair falling across her cheek.

I nod, pretending to listen. My mind is still on the feel of her hand against mine, the way her eyes met mine in that brief, charged moment.

“Luca?” Her voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” I say, perhaps a bit too brusquely. “Just a lot on my mind, what with the coronation coming up.”

She stares at me, her gaze penetrating. For a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to push, to ask what’s really bothering me. But she just nods, closing her notebook.

“Of course. I understand.”

But does she? Can she possibly understand the weight that rests on my shoulders, the duty that I am bound to? I don’t know. I’m sure she’s been through her own challenges, as different from my own as they might be.

“Is there any time in the day for fun?” She asks. “Relaxation.”

That makes me laugh. “No.”

“That’s a shame.” Her sly smile tugs at something forbidden within me.

Clearing my throat, I nod at the door. “Shall we?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” It’s not meant to be seductive, I know that, but the way her voice drops has me thinking anything but noble thoughts.

She goes through the door first, leaving me to bite my lip in frustration. It’s our first day with her shadowing me, and I already know I’ll be counting down the days until she leaves, while at the same time wishing she could stay by my side forever.