A Royal Disaster Page 11

  “I made a promise,” Liam said through gritted teeth.

  “And that promise is second to your duty as crown prince,” Fin responded, not pulling any punches. “You do realize Their Majesties are actively working on matches for you, right? They can’t start marrying your siblings off until you’ve tied the knot, and you know how anxious they are to bring Xander to heel.”

  Like that will ever happen.

  “Relax, Fin. Like the good little prince I am, I’ll do my royal duty when the time comes and marry nobility approved by my family. Until then, I am free to make my own choices, and right now, I choose to help Elena rebuild her life. The life I ruined by trespassing on her property.” Bloody hell. Now he was playing the trespassing card. “And if helping Elena buys me a little extra time on the marriage front, so much the better.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea? Some might consider it dereliction of duty.” Fin grinned. “Not me of course, but perhaps those of more esteemed lineage.”

  Liam groaned. He knew Fin had only his best interests at heart, and Elena’s, too, but enough was enough. “We’ve already discussed this and I seem to remember saying I didn’t want to discuss it again.”

  Fin snorted. “Yes, well, fortunately I am not a well-mannered prince, merely a servant of the crown. One who takes his duty as your personal assistant and advisor seriously, so consider this my official position on the matter. You need a queen. A partner. Someone who can help you shoulder the burden of the crown. And every day you squander with this farce is a day you leave yourself—and Elena,” he added with a pointed look, “vulnerable.”

  Liam stared at his friend in disbelief. The office was quiet save the melodic hum of white noise emanating from his computer. “You know, if I’d known you were going to turn into such a rebellious pain in the arse, I’d have promoted you to the queen’s service years ago.”

  “Bite your tongue,” Fin said with a shudder. “The ladies of the court would devour me whole.”

  Liam smirked. “Who knows? You might just like it. I hear Lady Delacourt can do this trick with her tongue—”

  “Will you be serious for just five minutes?” Fin barked, his ears turning scarlet. “What if Elena gets attached?”

  “That won’t happen,” Liam said, shaking his head. “It’s more like a business transaction. Or a philanthropic endeavor. She knows the deal.”

  Fin pulled a tabloid from his bag and tossed it on the desk. “Does she? Because the way she’s looking at you in that picture has me wondering.”

  Liam picked up the paper and studied the image. He wasn’t certain if the photo was taken before or after their kiss outside the theater, but he couldn’t deny it was convincing as hell. Elena gazed up at him with a look that could only be described as adoration. Pure, sweet, totally innocent.

  But that wasn’t what made Liam’s gut turn to stone.

  For all his concern, Fin had missed something the camera hadn’t. It wasn’t the way Elena was looking at Liam that should’ve concerned his friend. It was the way he was looking at her.

  Like she was the moon and the stars and the whole bloody universe.

  Chapter Nine

  Lena studied the image on her sketchpad and frowned. Something was…off. She closed her eyes and brought Liam’s face to the forefront of her mind. He really did have great bone structure. And his inky black hair was such a great contrast to his fair skin and pale eyes. Then there were his lips. The upper one curved like a perfect bow, the lower one full and perfect for biting.

  If one were so inclined.

  Focus.

  Right. The sketch.

  Lena concentrated on the moment right before Liam had kissed her. It had been cool, and the slight breeze had ruffled his hair. His gaze had been fixed on her, his eyes burning with such intensity it had turned her knees to putty. He’d brushed his fingertips along her jawline, sending a thrill of anticipation straight down her spine even as she melted into his embrace, molding her body to his in all the best places. She’d been desperate to feel the press of his lips on hers and he hadn’t disappointed, his velvety lips caressing hers with such deference it was like he’d been waiting his whole life for just one taste.

  It hadn’t been enough.

  The moment his lips brushed hers, she’d wanted—needed—more. More pressure, more heat, more tongue. The kiss had exploded like wildfire and—

  Her phone buzzed and she sat up straight, the jerky reaction nearly toppling her wobbly stool and face-planting her on the floor of the studio. She flailed her arms like a windmill and managed to right herself, ignoring the hot flush that raced across her skin.

  Note to self: R-rated fantasies and three-legged stools do not mix.

  Lena looked around, confirming the studio was empty, and grabbed the phone off the counter.

  Nia: You need to see this!!!

  There was a link at the bottom of the text and Lena tapped it even as a sense of dread swept over her.

  She watched as the Channel Three live broadcast popped up. The instant Chad’s face appeared on the screen, her good mood was erased faster than a charcoal sketch.

  “That’s right,” Chad said, nodding vigorously. “I used to date Elena Murphy. We practically lived together, so if there’s anyone who can confirm the Mad Eyes label is accurate, it’s this guy.”

  The stupid ass actually pointed to himself as he said it. Nia was right, she never should have dated him. What kind of douche exploited his ex-girlfriend on TV?

  The kind who had the gall to slap her with a frivolous lawsuit—obviously.

  Lena’s temper flared as the camera panned back to the bubbly blonde reporter.

  What the hell was Chad up to?

  The reporter smiled, flashing a dazzling set of pearly white veneers. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Prince William is rumored to be dating Elena. Any advice for the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor?”

  “Run,” Chad said, cracking a toothy grin. “Seriously, Lena seems like a cool chick at first, but when she lets her freak flag fly, she’s wild and unpredictable. Maybe even a little crazy. I barely got out alive.”

  What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  Lena’s hands began to shake, her fury beating a punishing rhythm as it coursed through her veins.

  “Really?” the reporter asked, gobbling up all the shit he was shoveling like it was going to earn her an Emmy. “Is it true you’re currently suing Elena for physical and emotional damages?”

  “Unfortunately,” Chad said, adjusting his glasses and feigning contrition. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but like I said, Elena’s completely unhinged. Totally beyond reason.”

  Lena blanched at the insidious implication. This could not be happening. Not when things at the studio were finally starting to look up. But of course it was happening. She was cursed, and she’d been a fool to believe things would play out any other way. The media thrived on pain and suffering, consequences be damned. Of course they dredged up the bullshit lawsuit.

  Sensationalism sold, and Chad’s story had it in spades.

  “Can you tell our viewers the exact nature of the litigation?” The reporter was practically salivating. Did this woman have no conscience?

  “I wish I could,” Chad said, flashing the once charming smile that now made her want to punch him in his tiny little cock, “but my lawyers have advised me not to discuss the case. Suffice it to say, the truth will come out in time. It always does.”

  The truth? The lying hijo de la gran puta wouldn’t know the truth if it jumped up and bit him on his flat hairy ass. Lena’s pulse pounded against her right temple. Her head was going to explode like greenware in a kiln. What the hell had she ever seen in him anyway? All Fin’s work would be for nothing once this interview went viral. Her studio couldn’t withstand another character assassination.

  She was going to lose everyth
ing.

  Her home. Her business. Herself.

  When Chad whipped out a picture of Lena dressed like a zombie bride from last Halloween, she saw red. Now she really did look like a complete psycho. An ugly one. Ay Dios mío. Surely people would realize it was a costume, right? No one could seriously believe she was that wretched in real life. Not that it would matter. The trolls would have a field day.

  With a sigh, Lena closed the web browser and tapped out a quick message thanking Nia for the heads-up.

  Nia’s reply came almost immediately and Lena couldn’t help but smile at the Real Housewives I will cut a bitch GIF, even if it was totally inappropriate and would probably land them in jail. Where there was no wine or donuts. A second message popped up, and Nia promised to swing by the studio after class so they could plot Chad’s demise and drown their sorrows in a bottle of cheap rosé.

  Puñeta. It was definitely time to lawyer up. It was bad enough strangers were dragging her online, but it had never occurred to her that people who actually knew her would do the same. Then again, she’d never imagined Chad would file a lawsuit against her, either, so clearly she wasn’t exactly the best judge of character.

  Lena reopened her browser and typed in NYC Legal Aid, doing her best to ignore the sour taste in her mouth. It was a bitter reminder of just how deeply Murphy’s Law impacted her life. It was also depressing as hell and—if she was being honest—all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide under the comforter, but ignoring Chad’s asinine lawsuit was no longer an option.

  It was time to deal with the problem head on.

  She was still scrolling through legalese, trying to make sense of her options, when the bells over the front door jingled. Lena glanced up and immediately wished she’d closed the studio early, because she was in no way prepared to explain this latest disaster to Liam, and judging by the hard set of his mouth, he didn’t find it the least bit amusing. Not that she expected him to. God knew she was mortified, the shame staining her face like spilled paint.

  Once again, she’d made a fool of him in the press and it appeared he was here to call her on the carpet.

  …

  Liam locked the studio door and flipped the Open sign to Closed. The last thing they needed was a goddamn audience. Jack and Ethan could keep the vultures at bay, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Not after the shitstorm on the twelve o’clock news.

  If he ever got his hands on that bloody cocksucker Chad… His hands shook at the memory of the live broadcast, and he flexed his fingers, trying to calm his body. It was a pointless exercise. Anger-fueled adrenaline coursed through his veins like liquid fire, seeking a physical outlet for the pent-up enmity.

  What kind of arseholes had Elena dated? With an ex like that, it was no wonder she thought she was cursed. A guy like Chad could never properly appreciate a woman like Elena, and it pissed him off to no end that she had to deal with a wanker like that.

  At least now he knew why she’d sworn off men.

  Liam scrubbed a hand over his face. The morning had started off well enough, but the moment he’d seen Elena’s ex on television, he’d cleared his calendar. Fin hadn’t been pleased with him blowing off the trade meetings, but it was his own damn fault for showing Liam the footage in the first place. And truth be told, he wasn’t certain whether his friend was irritated by having a week and a half of his PR work undone, or by Liam’s lack of focus on his diplomatic responsibilities.

  Not that it mattered.

  One look at Elena’s pale face and drawn lips and he knew he was exactly where he needed to be. She shouldn’t be alone, not when she’d been betrayed so viciously by someone once close to her. After all, he knew firsthand how crushing such a blow could be. The knowledge burned in his gut like molten lava and he wanted nothing more than to repay the favor on her behalf. Elena wasn’t accustomed to this sort of backstabbing and posturing, but he’d grown up in a bloody palace and there was no one more suited to playing the game than he.

  But first, he needed to make sure Elena was okay.

  There would be plenty of time later to discredit the prick who’d trashed her reputation, and he had every intention of repaying the debt—tenfold. Hell, if his security team had known about the lawsuit they could’ve intervened sooner, but her name had been misspelled in the court filing and they’d missed it.

  “I came as soon as I saw the news,” he said quietly, doing his damndest to keep his anger under wraps as he approached the counter. Elena studied him warily, her dark eyes devoid of their usual fire. For that alone, he’d make the arsehole pay. “How are you?”

  “I’m…” Lena trailed off, her gaze flitting around the studio as she rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. Angry. Embarrassed. Frustrated. It’s one step forward, two steps back lately. All I want to do is save EVA. Is that too much to ask?”

  Her naked vulnerability hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. “No, it’s not. We are going to save your studio. I promised I’d fix this, and I will.” The desire to touch her struck hard and fast, so he gave in to the impulse, reaching across the counter and lifting her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes. Her skin was as soft and smooth as he remembered, and it was all he could manage not to drag his thumb across her full bottom lip. “This isn’t the end of the road for EVA or you.”

  Lena looked up at him, her dark eyes swimming with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. “I never wanted for any of this to happen,” she said, slipping out of his grasp and crossing her arms over her chest, “but I probably should’ve expected it, right?”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” Liam bit out, temper barely leashed. He hated that she’d been hurt again…because of him. If it weren’t for their farce of a relationship, her ex never would’ve had a platform from which to spew his venom. This was his fault, and he would make it right. “No one should have to live in fear that the people closest to them will betray them, certainly not so publicly.”

  Elena started, pinning him with a curious look. “You do.”

  Liam silently cursed her perceptive nature as he struggled to find the right words. How could he explain it to her without sounding like a condescending prick? “It’s not the same,” he said. “My name alone makes me a target, but it’s a small price to pay for the privilege of serving my country. I can only hope that one day, when my duty is done, my country and my people will be stronger for my leadership.”

  “You mean your sacrifice,” Elena said, arching a brow in challenge and proving this latest setback hadn’t doused all her fire. “You’re the heir, the good son, the one who quietly makes every sacrifice the crown demands. That’s what the papers say, anyway.”

  The truth of her words was an uncomfortable reminder of his obligations. Time to steer the conversation back to the midday broadcast. Ugly as it was, they needed to talk about it. “Let’s go for a walk. Have you had lunch yet?”

  Elena shook her head, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “What about them?” she asked, jerking her chin toward the street.

  Liam grinned. “We’ll go out the back. As long as Ethan and Jack are here, the paparazzi won’t even know we’ve slipped away.”

  “Because that worked out so well for you the last time.” Elena laughed and shook her head as she reached around to untie her apron.

  “Ah, but this time, I have a plan,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt like Clark Kent to reveal a tacky I Love New York T-shirt. “I’m going incognito.”

  The corners of Elena’s lips twitched. “You could almost pass for a tourist.”

  “That’s the idea,” he said, pulling a Yankees ball cap from his back pocket as she skirted the counter to join him. “Let’s just hope I’m not recognized, because the queen would have an absolute conniption if I’m photographed in this ensemble.”

  “Who knows? Maybe you’ll start a new fashion trend,” Elena teased, leading the way
to the back door, where she grabbed a wide brim hat that covered her hair and cast her face in shadow. He followed, marveling at her resiliency. The woman had a steel spine. When life knocked her down, she kept getting back up. With a smile on her face, nonetheless. She was bloody indomitable, and he respected the hell out of her for it. “I can see the headlines already. Prince William Debuts Souvenir Shop Chic.”

  “Perish the thought,” he deadpanned, clutching a hand to his chest in mock horror.

  A quick reconnaissance of the back alley confirmed the coast was clear and they raced down the narrow corridor, hand in hand, eager to leave the paps—and all the problems they caused—behind.

  They walked in companionable silence for a couple of blocks, losing themselves in the hustle and bustle of the city, and eventually Elena came to a stop in front of a shiny metal cart with a bright red and gold sign advertising cuchifritos. Liam didn’t know what the hell a cuchifrito was, but the photos plastered on the side of the cart showed a wide variety of what appeared to be Latin American dishes that made his mouth water.

  “They usually sell out early, but it looks like we’re in luck,” Elena said, an impish grin playing across her lips. “Andres makes some of the best cuchifritos in the city.”

  “What exactly are cuchifritos?” Liam asked, stealing a glance at the colorful bowl of rice and beans the woman ahead of them was holding.

  Elena laughed, the sound floating on the air as light and free as a breeze. “It just means fried food, which is pretty much a staple in Puerto Rican cuisine. I can’t believe you’ve never had cuchifritos before. Prepare to have your taste buds ruined for all other fare.”

  “Big words for a small restaurant.”

  Elena smirked up at him, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. “This is one time size doesn’t matter.”