16. Hailey

CHAPTER 16

HAILEY

I stare up at the shadowed ceiling of my guest suite, the plush mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets doing nothing to ease the restless ache in my body. That damned photo is seared into my mind — Luca’s face so close to mine, the intensity crackling between us palpable even through the camera lens.

I’m not imagining it, am I? He was feeling something too.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I grab it, excited when I see Millie’s name on the screen. And yet, I debate ignoring her call, because I know she’s seen the photo, and it’s not something I really want to explain right now. But, also, I know my best friend won’t give up until she gets the scoop.

I swipe to answer. “Hey, Mill,” I say, striving for nonchalance. “What’s up?”

“Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me, Hailey Warren!” Her voice is a mix of excitement and accusation. “I saw that photo — the whole world saw that photo. You and Prince Luca looked about two seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off!”

I sit up, switching on the bedside lamp. “It’s not what it looks like,” I insist. “We just… had a moment. But it won’t happen again. Luca and I have agreed to keep things strictly professional.”

Even I can hear the lack of conviction in my voice. I’m a reporter — lying, even to myself, has never been my strong suit.

“Uh-huh,” she says skeptically. “I know you, Hails. I can see right through that ‘professional’ nonsense. You’ve still got it bad for Prince Charming — and don’t try to deny it.”

I flop back against the pillows with a sigh, staring bleakly at the ornate ceiling tiles. Denying my attraction to Luca feels futile, especially to Millie, who knows me better than anyone. But admitting it out loud makes it too real, too dangerous.

I told her — and myself — that I was over Luca, that coming to the palace was nothing but a job. Yet I know, deep down, that’s anything but the truth.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” I say finally. “Luca is going to be king. And I’m just… me. What we had in New York is over. There’s no happily ever after for us.”

But oh, some secret part of me wishes there could be, even as my practical side ruthlessly squashes that flickering hope.

“Okay, I’ll stop pushing. For now,” Millie relents. “But Hailey, just… be careful with your heart, okay? You were pretty torn up when he didn’t show at the fountain, and now the stakes are even higher. Falling for a king-to-be is risky business.”

“I know,” I whisper. “Believe me, I know.”

We say our goodnights — or, for her, good afternoons — and I end the call, but Millie’s warning echoes in my head. Sleep continues to elude me as I toss and turn, my body humming with restless energy.

Unable to stand the confines of my bedroom any longer, I throw off the covers and pad over to the dresser. My fingers find the smooth fabric of my deep blue bikini and I slip it on, the act of changing into a swimsuit as natural as breathing. A late-night swim always helps clear my head.

I don’t bother with shoes, and out in the hallway my bare feet sink into the plush carpet. I keep my steps light, not wanting to draw any attention. The indoor pool is located in a secluded ground-floor wing of the palace, and I’m counting on it being deserted at this hour. It’s not off-limits to me, but right now I don’t feel like interacting with anyone.

I just need to be alone. I need silence — real silence, without the constant drumming of the thoughts in my head — and I’m hoping that being submerged in water will help me get there.

As I push open the heavy glass doors, the smell of chlorine wafts over me, both comforting and invigorating. Moonlight streams in through the domed glass ceiling, casting an ethereal glow over the still surface of the water.

I drop my towel onto a nearby lounge chair and step to the edge of the deep end, my toes curling over the cool tile. For a moment, I simply stand there, breathing in the peaceful solitude.

Diving in, I slice through the water with barely a splash, the silky caress of it against my bare skin both soothing and sensual. I surface on the other side, pushing my slicked-back hair from my face.

Here in the sanctuary of the water, I can almost forget the complicated swirl of my feelings for Luca. Almost.

But forgetting him entirely, I’m starting to realize, may be an impossible feat. No matter how much I try to deny it, he’s crept under my skin and burrowed into my heart.

As I float on my back, staring up at the star-speckled night sky through the glass, my thoughts drift back to the garden, back to the way he held my arms — too long, much longer than he needed to after catching me before I fell.

The sound of the door opening startles me out of my reverie. I jerk upright, treading water as I turn to see who else could possibly be awake at this hour.

My heart stutters in my chest as a familiar figure steps into the room, moonlight gleaming off his smooth skin and chiseled physique. Luca.

He freezes when he sees me, his eyes widening in surprise. “Hailey. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“That makes two of us,” I manage, acutely aware of how little I’m wearing. The cobalt bikini seemed like a good idea in the privacy of my room, but now, with Luca’s heated gaze roaming over me, I feel utterly exposed.

He sets his towel down, his movements precise and controlled. The black swim trunks slung low on his hips leave little to the imagination — not that I have to imagine anyway, since I’ve seen the whole shebang — and I have to force my eyes away from the cut of his abs, the V of his hips disappearing beneath the waistband.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says quietly, stepping to the edge of the pool. “I thought a swim might help clear my head.”

“That makes two of us,” I echo.

He dives in with the sleek grace of an Olympic swimmer, barely making a ripple. When he surfaces a few feet from me, rivulets of water sluice down the planes of his face, dripping off the sharp cut of his jaw.

For a long, charged moment, we simply stare at each other, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool. The air feels heavy, weighted with unspoken words and barely restrained desire.

I’m not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between us vanishes. His hands find my waist beneath the water as mine slide up the slick muscles of his chest to twine around his neck.

Our faces drift closer, lips a scant inch apart, sharing the same shaky breath. Every nerve in my body is alight, yearning to close that last little distance.

But we hover there, suspended in that aching, anticipatory moment, both of us wrestling with the warring tides of longing and restraint.

His nose brushes mine as he angles his head, our mouths now a mere whisper apart. I can almost taste him on my tongue, feel the heat of his lips against my own.

“Hailey,” he breathes, and my name in his accented rasp sends a shiver racing down my spine. “We shouldn’t…”

“I know,” I manage, the words strangled. My fingers tighten reflexively against his nape. “The photo… If anyone saw us like this…”

He exhales a shuddering sigh that fans across my cheek. “It would be a scandal. The press would have a field day.”

I swallow hard, trying to compose myself, to remember all the reasons why this can’t happen. “Your reputation… the throne… We agreed to stay professional.”

“We did,” he acknowledges, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, his hands flex against my hips, tugging me infinitesimally closer. “But God, Hailey… I want…”

The raw need in his voice obliterates the last of my wavering control. Heat sizzles through my veins, molten and demanding.

Before I can move, though, he pulls away, his hands leaving my body. Water splashes between us, and my jaw drops.

“The photo…” He looks away.

My face heats. Of course. What was I thinking?

Say we did give in to our desires — then what? He would keep me secret from everyone? Is that what I want to be, Prince Luca’s dirty little mistress?

Or, just as bad, his distraction?

“You’re right.” I swim to the edge of the pool and pull myself out.

Water drips from my body, pooling around my feet. The air feels colder than before, a stark contrast against my heated skin.

Silently, I usher myself towards my discarded towel. The fabric is rough against my damp skin but the process of drying off gives me something to focus on, a momentary escape from the weight of what almost happened.

Luca climbs out of the pool after me, keeping a healthy distance between us. He scrubs a hand across his face, and I avoid watching the droplets of water skitter down his chest.

He clears his throat, “Hailey?—”

“Don’t.” I cut him off, wrapping the towel securely around my waist.

My voice sounds harsher than I intended and I see him flinch. His gaze drops to the tiles beneath us, and I hate how even now he looks so damn good bathed in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a beat. “I didn’t mean to — it shouldn’t have happened.”

The air between us grows colder, silence stretching out. He doesn’t look at me.

“You’re right,” I say, my voice tight. “It shouldn’t have.”

The suggestion is there; I don’t have to say it. Any of it. Not what just happened in the pool, not our night in New York.

“Good night, Luca,” I say, my voice barely audible over the dull hum of the pool pump.

He doesn’t respond right away. When he does, his voice is hoarse, strained. “Good night, Hailey.”

With that, I turn and leave him there, the glass doors closing behind me with a soft click.