Page 2 of Tabloid Princess

With a face the temperature of the sun I frantically unravelled fistfuls of kitchen towel and tried to fashion a very swift and crude skirt out of recycled paper.

Janine, whose expression told me without her uttering a single sound that this was possibly the last thing I’d ever do for Bright Futures, took control.

“Your Royal Highness, this is Leia Lawrence, our marketing manager.”

She didn’t need to make it sound quite like that.

What the shit is actually happening here?

I stared between the king to be and my office manager. And then I stared again.

“Leia? As in Princess Leia?” he asked, and fuck me, it should be illegal for someone to have a voice like that. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Molly slumping in her chair. Whether she was mid-orgasm or working out a plan to launch herself into his path was unclear.

“Yes. And my brother’s called Luke.”

A muted pause filled the air, while inside I withered away and died a slow and painful death. I just tried to joke with the heir to the throne… and it was a lame joke at that.

He turned for Janine, while I fidgeted, wishing that magic was real so I could vanish away my coffee stain, the outfit it was on, and perhaps my personality.

“I’m sorry for calling in unannounced.” His voice lifted with an almost melodic lilt. On a whim I glanced at the heavens because surely only angels weeping would make a noise like that. “It’s hard to give my charities my full attention when every visit turns into a media circus.” His smile was all encompassing. The same smile frequently splashed on the front pages of newspapers. More than frequently, daily at the moment.

Who was he dating?

Was the wedding off forever?

Why had another royal romance failed?

I stared at him, utterly mesmerised by the beauty of his face. I could see no logical reason why anyone would fail at a relationship with him. I hated myself for even thinking it; he was beautiful though, too beautiful.

“Oh, I assure you, we would welcome a media circus, actually any media.” Janine’s barb in my direction was barely concealed and it took all I had not to roll my eyes in front of the future king. To be fair, she had a point.

“Well, if I knew we had a famous patron and that he’d be stopping by, maybe my job would be easier.” My retort was far sharper than I intended.

“Oh, that’s my fault.” Somehow the prince managed to wedge his shoulder between Janine and I, diffusing the simmering tension. It also put the full wattage of his smile and insanely green eyes down onto me as though we were the only two people in the room. “I just like to keep things private if I can.”

I snorted. I actually snorted. My hand clapped over my mouth. “Sorry, that was rude.” Holy crap. Could it get any hotter in here? “I just meant that you and privacy don’t seem to go hand in hand.”

He inclined his head just a fraction, his lips curving ever so at the corner, as though I was slightly above amusing. “But I’m here and the press aren’t,” he countered, one eyebrow lifting a millimetre.

“Yay for us.”

Right then would have been a perfect time to step back, take a break, go to the ladies, dry my skirt, get a fucking brain; that kind of thing.

“Maybe I could help you with media attention?” he suggested to Janine, but his hand gestured towards me. I could only assume he meant to discuss how to get media attention with me; the marketing manager. That would make total sense, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything because his voice pitched lower, smoother, a hot wire straight to my insides. I needed to calm down before I degenerated to Molly’s current state. I was going to remind her of this until the day I died. Which might well be in five minutes time if he flashed that smile on me again.

“Well,” Janine giggled, a sound I’d never heard her make, “That would be most welcome. Leia, I’m assuming you’re otherwise unengaged.” The prince couldn’t see the face she pulled in my direction.

She wanted me to have a meeting with him? Like now? Right now? I’d just called him a prick. Oh my God; I’d called him a prick.

“Uh, Janine. I’m wearing a coffee. Is there any chance I can go and locate some jeans and maybe some knickers that don’t smell of latte?”

A wild chuckle lifted from Molly’s direction. Poor old Paula, still carrying the weight of her fourth child fanned herself down with the back of a yellow legal pad.

“And I think I’m going to stop talking right now.” I backed up, heading to my desk where I grabbed my purse.

Those lips stretched into a smile, his expression flitting between utter confusion and mild amusement.

“There’s a Primark just down the road. I’ll be back in five…” I waved at the door leading to the street outside. “Assuming it’s okay? You know, to go now, your uh Highnessy person.”