Page 109 of Tabloid Princess

“You promised to tell me what happened.” I murmured against his mouth.

“I was hoping to distract you.” His lips curved against mine, beautiful and intoxicating.

“Close, but not quite.”

His hand dropped, his fingertips trailing across my throat. “Sure?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Dropping his touch, he caught my hand again, our joined grasp swinging between us as we walked back to the glass wall and stepped through into a modern and bright kitchen.

“This house is amazing.” I stared about me.

“Thanks.” He shrugged.

I took a deep breath. I might as well rip the plaster off and deal. “Would you and Charlotte Macclesfield have lived here if you’d married?”

He snorted a rueful laugh. “Greystone wasn’t big enough for her.”

I glanced at the echoing depths of the open plan house. Yikes.

“You told me before you don’t get to give away kisses. How did you get to be nearly married before you realised it wasn’t right?”

He flinched but didn’t say anything. Instead he went to a cupboard and pulled out some glasses before going to the fridge and getting out a carton of juice.

The silence was deafening.

“The press are desperate to know what happened. How have they not found out, when they knew my name within twelve hours of you touching my hair?”

“She was bought off. Her family were also suitably reimbursed for their inconvenience.”

The poison in his tone caused me to wince. “Why?”

“Charlotte was always destined to marry a prince. Her family set her on the route while she was still in nappies. It wasn’t hard to make sure she socialised in the same circles as me. Hell, back then everyone knew where I socialised, what I did. I hardly kept my life secret.”

I thought of the headlines I remembered. They were hazy and distorted by my youth. While I’d been struggling to stay in school and feed myself, Prince Oliver had been falling out of clubs and brawling with journalists.

“It was easy for her to end up at the same university as me, on similar courses.”

“That’s a bit cynical; couldn’t it have been a coincidence?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He pushed a glass of juice towards me and I slipped my hands around it. “By the time university started she was on her end game. And, from my side, the match was actively encouraged. She was media friendly. It was considered that with time and some coaching she’d engage with the people.”

“The people?”

His gaze met mine, deadly serious. “Leia. The future king can’t marry someone whom the people won’t love.”

“Oh.”

Those twelve words crushed into my chest.

His gaze didn’t waver, but whatever thoughts whirled in the depth of his stare he didn’t verbalise.

“So what happened? It sounds perfect.”

“She slept with John.”

I nearly dropped my glass. Quickly regaining my control, I placed it carefully on the marble worktop. “What?”