Page 84 of Tabloid Princess

“Did you not have princey stuff to do today?” Why was I even starting a conversation? I began to realise a little too late I was sick in the head.

“I did. But I wrapped it up quick.”

“To see me?” My voice wobbled and his smirk flashed again.

“You find that hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

The traffic seemed reasonably light, but then I had left the office a little early to get back for Daisy as I always do on Thursdays.

“How did you know I’d leave early?”

“Janine mentioned it in passing the other day when we were talking about staffing.” He turned and blinded me with a wide smile. My heart stuttered in the most ridiculous way. “Obviously, she didn’t realise I was specifically listening for details about you.”

“My god, you’re some kind of royal stalker.”

Another smile. “You’ve got me.”

“I thought last night we said goodbye in a permanent way.”

“You got my note?”

“Yes.” I flushed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

We were at lights and he turned to me, smouldering me with those forest deep eyes. “Tell me.”

“I’ve read it a few times.”

Sweet Jesus. Have I no control?

“I was thinking, I should probably ask for your number.” He cast a side glance over me as the traffic began to move again.

“Oliver, I explained.”

“Well actually.” His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “You didn’t.”

“You’re a prince. I grew up in Hackney.” I shut my mouth quickly.

He lifted a shoulder, but he couldn’t ignore the difference I’d just highlighted.

“Oliver. I’ve got to protect my life. That might be selfish, but Daisy is my everything. Look at what happened just last week when you touched my hair. There were press outside her home. Everyone in the playground talked about us—more than usual.”

Instead of heading up the north circular he pulled into one of London’s busiest roads. The road where the Palace was.

“Oliver. I have to get home. This might be a game to you, but I actually have things I need to do.”

His lips set into a tight line and I knew I’d hit a mark. “Two minutes and I’ll still get you home quicker than the Tube.”

The gates were opening. Any dispute I had on my lips faded as the car rolled inside and the gates closed behind us.

The courtyard—because that’s what it was, in the middle of London—appeared empty, if you could ignore the soldiers positioned along the wall in ceremonial dress.

He got out the car and swiftly walked around it to open mine before I had a chance to do it for myself. My eyes lifted to the palace, looming behind us, it was utterly impossible to ignore.