Page 23 of How to Date a Prince (Being Royal #1)

Chapter Eighteen

I walk for a long time, till my shoulders ease. Till I can draw a breath deep in my diaphragm. Till dusk comes. Even though I’m hungry, I can’t face going back to the house right now. Besides, an occasional skipped meal never hurt anyone.

When I finally calm down enough to face the house and Renaissance Man again, I beeline for my rooms and get ready for bed.

I fling myself face down on the colorful handmade quilt.

Eventually, despite my worries—does Gisele have footage of us, is outing me part of the Renaissance Man storyline, do I risk talking to her and outing myself for real if she doesn’t actually know I’m gay and then runs wild with it—I pass out into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

In the middle of the night, there’s a heavy knocking at my door.

My heart leaps into my mouth. It takes a moment to remember where I am, that Alyse is here overnight, standing guard.

Unless she’s been taken out by a threat.

Before I reach full-blown panic, despite my training in high-risk situations, including fears of kidnapping or worse, there’s Alyse’s calm voice.

“Auggie. I’m terribly sorry to disturb, but your friend insists on seeing you,” Alyse calls.

“Auggie?” Thomas’ voice.

Shit.

Well, Thomas wouldn’t have made it so close if Alyse thought he was a true threat. And unfortunately, that means she must have heard everything the other night with us in the bothy to know that we’re close. My face heats up.

“It’s okay, I’ll let him in,” I call back, throwing the covers back, and I climb down from the bed with its high mattress. I shiver in the cool air and hurry to the door. When I open it, both Alyse and Thomas stand there. I rub my eyes against the brightness of the corridor.

“Alright?” Alyse meets my gaze. I give a curt nod, and she steps back. Then, I look at Thomas, who’s obviously agitated.

“I know you don’t want to see me, but?—”

“What’s going on?” I fold my arms tight across my chest, suddenly aware I’m in a fuchsia T-shirt and gold-and-white tiger PJ bottoms.

But Thomas just stares without comment on my wardrobe. “You have to come right now. It’s important?—”

“You’re starting to really scare me—” I glance over at Alyse again. She’s frowning.

“It’s your pottery,” Thomas blurts. “Someone’s ruined it.”

“What?”

Thomas isn’t making any sense. He stares at me, wide-eyed.

“I tried to see if I could catch whoever did this, but they’re long gone.” Thomas’ words fall over each other in a rush. He’s breathless, presumably from running, flushed. “I know you don’t want to see me, and you’re upset about being caught together. But you have to come.”

“Stop talking. Wait.” God knows if anyone’s awake at this hour to hear this conversation, though I’m supposed to have my own wing. At last, I turn to find my Adidas shoes and a light jacket against the night’s chill. “What time is it?”

“After 1:00 a.m.”

“And what exactly are you doing up? How do I know you didn’t do this?” I gesture at him.

Thomas instantly frowns. “I would never! And I resent being accused.” His tone is cool. “Let’s go, and you’ll see for yourself.”

“Fine.” We leave with Alyse in tow as we hurry out onto the estate’s grounds by flashlight, heading down the winding path that eventually leads to the pottery bothy. We run most of the way.

This could be a total setup.

Alyse makes us stop up the trail, going first to check for risks. She wouldn’t be setting me up, though, I reason. Finally, she gives the all clear as Thomas and I stand awkwardly near each other, not speaking. He leads the way to the entry. I’m right on his heels.

I push the door open, and my eyes widen as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing in the low light. I go to flip the switch, which clicks uselessly. The dead silence tells me the generator that ordinarily powers the light has been cut.

“Careful.” Thomas’ hand rests on my shoulder, warm and comforting.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and turns on the light, casting a small glow over the unexpected chaos of overturned furniture.

But more than anything else—the tableware I set aside to dry has been knocked to the ground, shattered.

“Oh my God.” I stare.

The damage is done, irreversible.

“Turn your light over here so I can find the plug to the generator?” I demand. He obliges, which gives me a chance to fumble through the cords and connections. We’re soon rewarded by both the hum of the generator and the warm glow of the rigged-up overhead lighting.

The unfortunate part is… well, there’re a few unfortunate parts, but the light cast over the ruins of my impromptu studio show in unflinching light what’s been done: the wooden trays with pots thrown to the floor with clay pieces everywhere, the potter’s wheel knocked over, tools tossed as well.

I reach to flip a chair back up with shaking hands, but Thomas catches my arm. He shakes his head. “Leave it,” he says, frown lines tight around his mouth. “Those fuckers should have given you a lock on the door. And they need to see what’s happened in the morning.”

“Do you think this is part of the show?”

Thomas scowls. “This isn’t meant to be a sabotage challenge, Auggie.”

“I can’t say. I don’t know much about reality TV. Except people seem to like drama. Drives ratings, I hear.” I’m numb at first, and then my shoulders slump. “What’s the point of this all, anyway?”

“Aren’t you angry?” Thomas considers me. He practically vibrates with fury, a crease between his eyebrows. “I’m fucking livid. Who would dare ruin beautiful things? Or come into your space?”

“I—I should go home, Thomas,” I say unsteadily. My eyes well up with tears. Roughly, I brush them away before he can see. Thank God for the low light. “Clearly, I don’t belong here.”

“This is such a violation of your space.” Thomas is indignant. “Who would have the balls to do this? You can’t quit. They have to get fired.”

“Does it matter? The damage is done. Someone has to go home this week anyway, may as well be me. It makes it easier for everyone else. Probably it’s someone upset over me staying last week instead of Mark.”

“Fuck, Auggie—no way.” Thomas shakes his head, standing in the midst of everything. “That’s bullshit, sorry.”

I lift my jaw in challenge. “It’s not your work in pieces, is it?”

“It’s not, but?—”

“Why do you think you always know better than I do about what I need?” I challenge heatedly. “This is my life. I didn’t want to come on this stupid show anyway. And you?—”

“Someone has to be held accountable for this.” Thomas’ jaw is set, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Like right the fuck now.”

“It’s incredibly late. Or early?—”

“Who cares? I’ll wake the crew up,” Thomas says, folding his arms over his chest.

“No. Don’t.” I glance around. Someone’s probably recording this right now. “I need to get out of here.”

“Whoever did this can go fuck themselves.”

“I need to go back to the house. I need to pack and call a car to come.”

“No way.” Thomas glares. “You can’t just leave like this. In the middle of the night.” His voice catches.

We glare at each other.

“And what about me?” he whispers.

I don’t breathe, just hold his gaze for a long moment, then nod curtly at the door.

We retrace our steps back to the house in stony silence.

It’s 4:00 a.m. now; a faint brightening to the east promises pre-dawn light, a soft orange on the horizon.

We head upstairs together in the house, up the grand staircase in the entry, to the level with the bedrooms.

On the landing, we hesitate.

“I guess this is…?” Thomas says softly.

I search his eyes. My guts twist. If I’m honest with myself, which apparently seems to be a problem I’m grappling with, and mostly failing, I don’t want to be alone right now.

And I can’t really call the palace in the middle of the night for a ride without it causing an incident.

And then there’s my father to deal with.

Worst of all, it means leaving Thomas behind.

Which would be very sensible. And what my father would want.

I nod in the direction of my wing, brushing my fingertips with his. He lifts his eyebrows in question. I briefly tug his hand, and he follows me to my room, Alyse well behind us. We go to my suite, the only place on the estate where I’ve been assured there are no cameras or mics.

We step inside my room, lit only by the soft glow of a small table lamp by the entry. Thomas searches my eyes, calmer now. I’m still trembling with adrenaline.

“I won’t go tonight,” I murmur.

Thomas sags with relief. “That’s?—”

“Would you come to bed with me?” What little security I felt here has been shaken.

“Are you sure?”

I push the door shut behind him after Alyse takes up her usual position in the corridor.

Thomas leans on the door, watching me. Which is good he’s not noticing anything else because the room is…

not messy, exactly, but looking a little lived-in.

The bedding has been turned down in my earlier restless sleep.

Yesterday’s clothes are draped over a chair.

A table by the window has my laptop and books I’m reading, along with my phone.

I gaze at him. We’re about the same height. His expression softens at the sight of me. And the way he looks at me makes me warm from the core of my body. I step forward, brush my mouth against his lips, yielding to mine, and I continue.

He puts his hands on my hips, then hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pajamas to pull me closer, hungrily returning my kiss. “We don’t need to—after what—if you—do you?”

“I just—I very much want you here, Thomas.”

“Interesting. My head’s spinning right about now with you.” He reaches out to trace my jaw. I lean into his fingers, shutting my eyes, savoring his touch.

“That… well, I’m glad you were with me tonight. When I saw the studio upended like that. It would’ve been harder alone.” I kiss him again, and he returns the kiss just as thoroughly.

I groan, pulling him into me, then towards the bed. Then I stop abruptly. “Wait.”

He lifts his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t have a condom. Do you?” I ask.

“I wasn’t planning on any action tonight, I’ve got to say. We can do some other things, though. I have a few ideas.”

“I know. But, how about…” I consider him, chewing my lip, feeling raw. “We wait. I mean, more sex won’t make things easier, will it? Maybe we should try to sleep instead. And if you want, you can stay. Or you can go.”

His fingers run lightly down my arms, and I shiver as he pushes my jacket off my shoulders. I let it fall to the floor. Neither of us looks away.

“I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

I lead Thomas to bed, and we climb in. The mattress is plush and the bed more than big enough for the two of us. Thomas rests on the pillows against the headboard, watching me appreciatively. I slide into his open arm, which curls around me a moment later. His fingers rest on my forearm.

With my head pillowed against him, I listen to his heartbeat.

I can’t remember the last time I was with a man, so close like this.

It’s been a very long time. And now, despite my earlier bravado, I feel a lot more exposed.

Even without sex, I feel like I’ve revealed a lot of who I am tonight to Thomas.

And the added emotion of the studio sabotage has heightened everything, especially after the earlier shock evisceration by Colin.

I should have known better than to trust him.

Who knows—as far as I know, even Thomas could be a setup from the show to lower my guard.

And yet here I am, guard evidently lowered.

“If something matters to you, you have to fight for what you want,” Thomas breathes against my skin as I drowse in the safety of his arms. “Prove to everyone what you’re made of.”

“Mm.” I nestle closer, mulling over his advice. “I’m glad you’re here,” I murmur back.

His slight squeeze comforts me, the reassuring warmth of his body against mine, the rhythm of his breath. And although it takes a few minutes, I fall asleep in Thomas’ arms.