Page 129 of American Royalty

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Thousands in crowds / Yellin’ my name / Give a shit ’bout you joining / After you came...”

—Duchess, “Holla Atcha Girl”

Exhaustion weighing on her limbs like a snow-laden branch, Dani tied the sash on her robe and padded into the living area of her suite. Until twenty minutes ago, the room had been filled with everyone from her beauty team to wardrobe to her tour people, going over last-minute details before the concert tomorrow. Between the tennis match that afternoon, the full-dress rehearsal, and meeting with the recently departed crew, she wanted nothing more than to dive onto the bed and hit up Mr. Sandman for a visit.

That’s a lie. You do want more. You want Jay to be here with you.

She settled for curling up on the white sectional.

Dani sighed. It was true. She couldn’t deny loving his company, even when she had to experience it with other people. At the tennis match they’d found little ways to share private moments, either by catching the other’s eye or sharing a smile at a comment or joke. All while remaining appropriate with their companionsandin the face of relentless media scrutiny, photographers spending more timewith their lenses pointed at the Royal Box than on the exhibition occurring on the court.

Risky behavior for people with so much to lose if they were caught. Yet those flashes of intimacy hadn’t been enough. She’d wanted more. For it to be her and Jameson with no plus-ones to entertain. To revel in his large hand holding hers as they whispered their impressions to one another and openly snuggled when he draped an arm around her shoulders.

But that would never happen.

She and Jameson? Together in public? Officially?

The black Rapper and the white Prince.

Who was she kidding? The press coverage would be constant. Intrusive. Overwhelming. Some of it would be positive, but Dani was savvy enough to know it would also be rife with racist under- and overtones.

Jameson would hate it. It would remind him of the vicious, frenzied scenarios he and his mother had survived after his father’s death.

And what about her? How would the storm of media attention affect Mela-Skin and Dani’s plans for her future? A story about her and Jameson would make the situation with Banks look like high school hijinks. Would the messaging help or hinder her chances to take her company to the next level?

And that was before they considered the practical implications. Busy schedules, wildly different time zones, long flights for short visits. She’d found it challenging to date bicoastally, but bicontinentally?

What if it was nothing more than a vacation fling? Did they want to risk blowing up their lives for something that could be attributed to two attractive people being forced into seclusion together?

In their intimate, cloistered bubble at Primrose Park everythinghad seemed so easy and the opportunities endless. The past week had given her a taste of what a romance between them in real life might entail. And she wasn’t sure either of them was ready for it.

Despite all that had happened, Dani’s coverage had been incredibly positive. Bennie had called to inform her that stories about Duchess conquering the UK (#DuchessWatch) led all the entertainment and satellite radio shows. Producers fromThe Tonight Show,The Real, andThe Kelly Clarkson Showhad reached out to book an appearance.

More important, Barbara from Genesis had been encouraging in her feedback. If Dani killed at the concert and had a great showing at the ball, she could head back to the States having achieved what she set out to do.

Andthatwas the purpose of your visit. Not getting sprung on one very fine royal.

When her doorbell rang, she wanted to ignore it. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone. But Tasha had mentioned having room service send up a protein smoothie before bed. Pushing to her feet, she shuffled over to the door and opened it to find Jameson standing there, still dressed in his clothes from earlier, minus the tie, jacket slung over his arm.

Giddiness tingled through her, only to be snuffed out by apprehension.

“What are you doing?” She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. “Get in here before someone sees you.”

He headed straight to the couch, sitting down and leaning his head back.

She took her time following and settled next to him. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “And you look gorgeous as always.”

Gorgeous? With her hair tied up and no makeup? If she’d had any doubts before... “Are you crazy? What if someone saw you?”

“It’s after one in the morning. Even paparazzi have to sleep, right?”

“Do they? They’re soul-sucking creatures. They may not need as much sleep as us mere mortals.” She smoothed hair off his forehead. “Seriously, Jay. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know. But here I am nonetheless.” He shifted his body to face her. “I’ve missed you.”