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I wanted a girlfriend.
I wanted the easiness Valentine and Mia had in how they reached for each other, almost without looking. How my sister and Jackson seemed to be each other’s missing puzzle piece. How Daisy would go take comfort in a hug from Ben.
In comparison, I felt that gaping hole where my other half should be.
I wanted Alex. The strange and insistent notion took me by surprise. But I was a bad bet with a dodgy past no high-profile person could overlook. My father was a mobster. We’d run from him, but that life tainted my past, present, and future. Even if my brother and sister had no issues with connecting with another person, I still felt unsafe. Alex could never date me. It would be out of the question. She was already in enough danger.
My phone rang, distracting me from my gloomy thoughts, and with Ben’s name onscreen.
I answered without a greeting. “What did he say?”
“That Riss took the promotion and you’re exactly what he hoped for.”
I draped against the doorframe. “I’m going back?”
“You’re going back, just to work with Princess Alexandra and just for a week. Pack your bag. You’ve got your orders.”
Chapter 11
Alexandra
In the pretty receiving room I remembered my father loving, with floral wallpaper and a tea service set out, I regarded the man in front of me. Sir Reginald was private secretary to King Philip, and one of the creepiest men alive.
I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was so off-putting about him; perhaps his soft hands with long fingers, hooked through the teapot’s handle, or his pin-neat grey hair, swept to the left at an exacting degree that never changed.
Maybe it was the way he’d treated me since I was a teenager—like I was a piece to be moved around a chessboard and not a human being. Not that my opinion mattered. Sir Reginald was as much part of the fixtures and fittings of Ossington Palace as any other historical item. If ever I needed to talk to the king, I had to go through him first. Even if I texted my cousin directly, Sir Reginald typically answered. Today, though, in between meetings, I’d gone directly to him.
The secretary set down the pot, poured milk into his cup, swirled his tea, then finally raised his emotionless gaze to mine. “What can I assist you with this morning, Your Royal Highness?”
“The list of events you sent me, is there any way we can adapt it?”
Sir Reginald sipped his drink and watched me, as if waiting for me to elaborate.
I rolled my hands. “There are some I’m not entirely comfortable with. I wondered if we could change them.”
I was due my period, and a headache panged behind my eyes. I’d sat through two meetings already with charities and organisations, and coupled with the art gallery disaster, all I wanted was to crawl back into bed. On top of that, I’d overheard palace gossip that had sent me fully into misery mode.
Raphael had been fired.
No doubt because of me.
I didn’t have his phone number or any way to contact him. Going through his team was a no-no as personal details were never shared. I’d had a quick hunt for him online but found nothing, and desperately, I wanted to hide away with my phone and track him down.
Looming over it was my panic over a specific activity on my calendar which involved public speaking. I just…couldn’t.
“Was there one in particular that concerned you?”
I shrank in my seat, feeling like nothing more than a whiny child. I couldn’t tell Sir Reginald the truth. He’d laugh me out of town. “It’s just a couple of tasks within the overall workload. Perhaps we could take one out, such as the banquet?”
He placed his delicate teacup in its matching saucer and reclined in his seat, taking his time over answering. “When considering activities and events for the royal family, His Majesty is very careful in selecting a balanced calendar that ensures representation across industries and all levels of society.”
“I know that?—”
Sir Reginald spoke over me. “Of which those allocated to Your Royal Highness are but a small number of the total. I understand that there are other things you might prefer to dowith your time. The concept of work is not always pleasant for everyone.”
Oh, fuck him. I hid a glower.
“However, the summer break is the only time off of significance His Majesty takes throughout the year and is essential to his well-being and to that of the queen consort and their young family.”