Page 21 of How to Date a Prince (Being Royal #1)

Chapter Sixteen

S leep comes for me well after sunrise, when my heart finally calms from the pure adrenaline careening through my body after being caught with Thomas again.

I wake in the afternoon, confused and disoriented.

It’s not so much the afternoon waking, which I’ve done before, but not here.

I’m shocked no one woke me, but then again, I don’t think last night’s activities were exactly a secret to my bodyguards, who are never too far away.

My face heats immediately at the memory of Thomas, and more so at the horrifying thought that someone overheard us.

Or worse—recorded us. At least it’s not, say, the tabloids. I force down a deep breath.

Did Thomas sleep in too? Does he regret doing what we did? Or—even worse—want to do it again? I shiver with desire, thoroughly unnerved. I can’t give in like that again, no matter how hot he is. It’s impossible. I’ve been far too reckless. Twice.

A cold shower, a white shirt, and pair of sage-green chinos later, I slip downstairs to find something to eat.

First stop is the tea station, which is mercifully quiet.

I complete a raid on the kitchen for a pair of sandwiches, apparently kept aside for me.

At least the chef is keeping score of my eating habits, even if I’m not.

I’m about to head out again when Colin catches me. He beams like he’s spotted a rare bird. “Ah, there you are, Your Royal Highness. Excellent timing.”

“Is it?” I ask uncertainly, looking down at my sandwiches.

“I’ll let you eat, of course, but we would love to film a package with you once you’re finished. Or at least, do a couple of takes for our segment, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Even with my agreement, my stomach knots, and my appetite wanes. I work on the tea instead. I try to read his expression, to interpret somehow if the segment is about Thomas and about us being outed. It’s definitely not about his package, thank God. I flush.

“I promise it won’t be dreadful, old thing. I’ll be there, at least,” Colin says cheerfully. “And I’m calling the shots. Well, sort of.”

“Mm,” I acknowledge with a surreptitious glance about, but there’s no sign of Gisele, the true puppet master of Renaissance Man . Everyone knows who actually calls the shots. “Do I want to know exactly what this… package… is about?”

“Let’s sit.” Colin gestures at the dining area, empty except for a couple of crew members working engrossed at their dedicated table at the back of the room.

We sit, and I eat while Colin explains. “We didn’t have a chance to follow up with you both on your reactions to last week’s filming, and we need some footage of you talking about home.”

“Home?” My eyebrows lift as I pause mid-sandwich. What a fucking relief. Unless it’s a trick. At least when it comes to sandwiches, someone has paid attention that I prefer the vegetarian options, and this cheddar and tomato sandwich is pleasingly fresh. “What about home?”

“Well, more specifically, we want to ask you—as we do all contestants—about their family and daily life. And for you, in full disclosure, we’ve also asked your family questions about you.”

“You’ve talked to my family?” My voice rises in alarm. I set the sandwich down. I pick up the napkin and clean off my fingers, frowning.

“It’s in the papers you signed,” Colin reminds me easily, unruffled by my reaction.

“Right. The papers.” One day, I’ll get revenge on my father, I swear. Provided he lives long enough, which is the sobering wake-up call I need about real reality.

I finish eating, and we break long enough so I can go brush my teeth. I stare hard at my reflection, shadows under my eyes from the late night. I suppose that’s what makeup is for.

And when I go to the designated room to meet the crew and Colin, the makeup artist pounces to transform me into a more alert-looking version of myself.

I haven’t seen Thomas anywhere on my travels so far today. Good. I don’t know if he’s still sleeping, or maybe if he’s regretting last night, or off writing songs about old lovers?—

“Auggie?” Colin tries again.

“Sorry. I’m paying attention, I promise.”

“As I was saying, we want you to tell us about your family.” He gives me an encouraging smile. “Seeing as yours is so unique.”

I groan.

“Hopefully with more enthusiasm?”

“Sorry… I—sorry. Right. Enthusiasm, yes.”

Someone gives me a cup of tea, and I exchange a grateful look with them.

The videographers are already in position, the boom mic at the ready and lights shining on Colin and me.

Are they the ones who caught Thomas and me out on our walk?

I both do and don’t want to know how much they’ve overheard.

I don’t even know where to begin with damage control when this is over or if it’s possible.

“My family… well, we may be the Royal Family, but at the core, we’re a small family like anyone else might have.” I gaze at Colin. “It’s my father, me, and my sister. My mum passed away two years ago, as I’m sure you remember.”

“How does that feel?” Colin asks, gazing levelly at me.

“Feel?” I blink at him. “What do you mean? Aside from me wishing she was still here?”

“Of course you wish she was still here.” Colin’s nod is sympathetic, his voice warm. “It’s a big loss.”

“There’s no filling that gap,” I confess. “My life has been very different after she passed. But I don’t know any other way.”

“So, you must’ve been sad.”

I’m quiet, searching Colin’s gaze. “Yes. I was sad,” I confirm, “when my mother died. And sometimes, I still am, especially at holidays. Or… other times. Even like with this challenge.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges. “Memory is a funny thing. And so often it’s tied into food, activities, even smells like baking.”

I know he wants more, but this feels too private, too close to share. I have so few things that are private and truly mine, and my grief over my mother’s passing is one of those things I want to keep that way.

“And how is it with your father, the King?” Colin asks, sensing he wasn’t getting any more out of me about my mother.

“Fine?”

“Just fine?” Colin asks.

I shrug. “Well, he’s busy with his responsibilities. My upbringing wasn’t a typical one. We both had—and continue to have—our duties.”

“Are you close?”

I squirm. “I know he cares for me.”

“Interesting.” Colin considers me. “And your sister?”

“She’s at uni now, so we don’t spend much time together.”

“It must be lonely, being a prince.”

“I didn’t say that.” It comes out a little sharper than intended. The whole line of questions is making me increasingly uncomfortable. There’s something in his gaze I don’t quite trust. I look at the door, half tempted to bolt like I did the other day after the baking competition. Or—after Thomas.

“Why did you choose to come on Renaissance Man ? It’s an interesting choice for a royal, wouldn’t you say? Especially for someone as private as yourself?” Colin gazes at me.

My face burns then. I open my mouth. Shut it. So he must know then I didn’t apply to enter myself.

“I’m full of contradictions,” I say, flat. I glance away before the sting of vulnerability comes. I shake my head slowly. “I want people to see what being a royal in the modern age is like, I guess. In the hopes of being… more relatable.”

My father would like that.

“I see.” Colin tilts his head. “Is a relatable monarchy important to you?”

“It is, yes. I think my father’s right that if the monarchy is to survive, we need to be more accessible, generally. More transparent. More modern.” I speak with confidence.

“You mean, specifically more transparent about you as the future King.”

“I didn’t say that.” My eyes widen. I’ve walked into a setup.

“You can hardly separate the monarchy from you, its future, Auggie,” Colin says mildly. “Of course, our viewers have a keen interest in you and your role on the show. And to take it back to last week’s competition?—”

“Yes. Please do?—”

“How did it feel to come in last place? Did it feel… relatable?”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out but a hiss of hot air.

Hurt, I search Colin’s eyes. I thought he had been on my side. “I… I don’t know. It… wasn’t undeserved. I fucked up.”

“Language.” A crew member frowns at me.

I can imagine Gisele twitching somewhere on the vast estate.

I sag ever so slightly before straightening again.

“It must have been very emotional, making those biscuits and them not working out, for your mother.”

“I… I failed her last week,” I say softly. “And her memory.” My hands tighten into fists at my sides. I slide my hands into my pockets to hide them. “I’ll have to do better on the next challenge, that’s all.”