Page 36 of How to Date a Prince (Being Royal #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

On Friday morning, I’m drowsy in bed when I hear voices.

At first, I’m not sure if they are part of a lucid dream, or another one of the many nightmares I’ve had since my accident, or simply odd dreams altogether.

I lie in bed with my eyes half-open, considering the ceiling as I drift towards wakefulness.

I do my best to focus on the recessed lighting, which is mercifully off.

“—you should’ve told me you were coming. I mean, seriously—” Thomas says, his voice rising.

“—like I need an invitation to see you after what happened—” demands an unfamiliar male voice.

“I’ve been worried sick—I’ve barely heard from you since your accident.

This isn’t like you to act like this. I’m worried.

So is your mother. And I needed to come to London again, so I moved my trip up.

” The unfamiliar voice shifts from exasperated to cajoling. “Please, Thomas.”

“The actual truth, then,” Thomas scoffs. “Business.”

Real voices, then. And real Thomas talking to a real person.

I carefully ease out of bed and slide Thomas’ charcoal dressing gown over the navy pajamas he’s loaned me. I run a hand through my hair.

“Speaking of, how is work on your social media project going?” Asks the older man pointedly. His voice is lower, deeper than Thomas’.

Thomas groans. “Been kind of busy? You know, with the show? And getting thrown off a horse. And yes, I’ve been looking after my friend, like I said?—”

“Thomas, you’re hardly staff to some undeserving, useless princeling who’s never worked a day in his life, him or the leeches that are his family, for the love of?—”

“He’s not a leech.” Thomas raises his voice.

“My God, the royals have gotten to you?—”

“You make it sound like a plague?—”

“At least some kind of scourge,” responds the older man. “I can’t condone this.”

“The good news is I’m an adult, and I can condone my own business.”

The older man speaks again, more gently now.

“Thom. I came to see you because I’ve been worried sick, your mother and me.

We decided it was best if she went on to Dubai for the opening of the new hotel and I came to London to see you.

And believe me, I hardly expected you to be looking after a prince like a lodger—in your own bed!

Just wait till the press gets wind of that too.

It’ll be terrible for my campaign. Did you think of that? He can’t stay.”

I open the door and step out into the living area in front of the expansive windows. My footsteps are silent.

Their argument stops at the sight of me.

My lips press together. Thomas stands with an older man, who wears a suit, beside the broad kitchen island.

I look from Thomas to the other man—who has a strong resemblance to Thomas—and back again, disoriented.

“Auggie. Shit. I’m so sorry,” begins Thomas, who goes red. “Auggie, this is my father, Daniel Golden. Who has come to London for a surprise—err—business trip?”

“To see you, son.” Daniel doesn’t look at him, though. His intense gaze is on me like a raptor who’s spotted prey after not having eaten in days.

I lick my lips. “Hello. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I realized I forgot my water glass somewhere out here.”

“We woke you.” Thomas frets. “I’m so sorry.”

Daniel’s gaze is piercing, with his steel eyes, a man who commands authority. But his gaze softens when he looks at Thomas.

As for Thomas, he keeps looking between us like it’s a tennis match, caught out in a collision of his worlds.

“It’s fine,” I say, spotting my glass on the low coffee table.

But my face is also flushed. And I feel about as useless as Daniel has said I am. It’s like I’m back on Renaissance Man again, facing Wilson and Travis and their barbs. Except this truly cuts under the skin.

And I have a flashback then of the race, the sound of everyone yelling, including Wilson beside me?—

I sway. Thomas rushes over and catches my arm.

Daniel gives a heavy sigh, turning to walk into the open-plan kitchen.

“Excuse me, Mr. Golden. For the record, you’re entitled to think whatever you like of me. I don’t mind. But don’t take it out on Thomas. He’s a kind person who only wanted to help me.”

Daniel snorts, giving me the once-over. “I imagine you have plenty of other people who could help you other than my son.”

My smile is thin. “We helped each other.”

“Is that right?” Daniel Golden’s decidedly unimpressed. My gaze doesn’t waver till he looks away, and blood rushes in my ears.

“I’ll help you back to bed and get you some water,” says Thomas quickly.

I let Thomas put his steady arm around me and guide me back to the bedroom. I don’t have the energy to protest. He brings the promised water and a painkiller. I groan as I sit down with stiff muscles protesting, pain in my ribs, and my headache.

“Here.” He lowers his voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect my dad to turn up out of the blue. He’s here for the weekend, staying in the adjacent suite. He’s only protective of me. And anxious.”

And Thomas returns to the show on Monday.

I gaze at him, shoulders slumped. “What did your father mean about the press?”

There’s a struggle across his face. “I don’t know if this is a good time to tell you…”

“Thom.” I give him a level look. “Please tell me.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips. His gaze fixes on mine.

“Thom.”

“Your accident got leaked late last night, and the story’s taken off like wildfire—not only around the country that you were nearly killed in an equestrian accident but around the world.”

My mouth opens. And then I blink as I struggle to digest this news.

“What? How did that get out?” I swallow, searching his eyes. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Thomas gazes at me, looking rough.

“Yeah. It’s bad, Auggie,” Thomas confirms softly. “Your phone’s been buzzing all morning. I was about to wake you when my father turned up.”

I carefully rub my eyes. “That’s why your father’s here, isn’t it?”

His mouth twitches. I reach out to touch his lips. He kisses my fingertips. “Yes. He’s claiming business, though.”

“And you? Are you in the paper? And—the show?” My eyes widen.

“I hate to tell you that I’m just in the fine print, like say a subtitle: Heir to Golden Hotel Fortune Nearly Dies with Prince Auggie in Reality TV Accident .”

“Wordy,” I remark. “ Abolitionist and Crown Prince in Shock Accident is better.”

Thomas gives a ghost of a smile. “It’s news, but the Golden Empire doesn’t quite have the branding of the British Empire despite our best efforts.”

“Well,” I begin, considering him. “We have had a millennium of marketing on our side.”

He laughs, then sobers. “Yeah.”

“Gisele will be happy, at least.” I start to shake my head, then stop at the pain that causes. “Can you please bring me my phone? My father will be, as they say, losing his shit right about now.”

“Mm.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whisper. I catch his face between my hands. “I would have died to keep you safe.”

“I know. Don’t I know.” He kisses the inside of my good wrist, sending a shiver down my spine. Then he rises and goes to find my phone, handing it over wordlessly.

There’s a shocking number of missed calls and alerts and texts from nearly everyone I know.

I reel. Thomas puts a steadying hand on my shoulder.

I skim the last few notifications. “They’re sending a car to take me home. It’s probably here already. If I don’t leave now, I’m sure MI5 will turn up. If they aren’t here already.”

A weight like an iceberg settles on my chest. Listless, I put my phone down.

“Fuck. Right, okay.”

“There’s something about security plans, but I can’t read it. Too many words.” I hand the phone to Thomas. “I don’t want to leave. But I can’t stay… and you must return to the show anyway.”

Thomas says nothing for a long moment. His knuckles are white as he grips the phone.

“You can barely walk,” he protests softly.

I search his eyes. My voice is unsteady. “This is the real reality I’ve been talking about, Thom. Except I’m sure now with more paparazzi involved. And… you know what that means for us since I’m off the show.”

His eyes are bright with the shine of tears.

“All I wanted was a chance to talk to you again, before the accident. I wanted to tell you to fuck off, that you were making another terrible mistake. After that last night together when you panicked again and cut me off. This isn’t fair.

I can’t play make-believe anymore, Auggie.

I can’t. Our worlds are too different. Like you said.

And now everything’s coming down on us with a microscope.

Plus, my father will murder me if he finds out about what’s been going on. ”

“I’m sorry…” I swallow hard. “Nobody can know about us, I agree. I just wish…”

“Fuck. I hate all this. I wish… I wish things were different too.”

I hug Thomas close with my free arm, and he buries his face in my chest, gripping me tight.

Everything aches deep within me. We should have had more time together—at least the rest of the summer, a handful of weeks—if only I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself before the accident. I rest my jaw on Thomas’ head, his hair soft against my skin, trembling like he’s already left.

And together, we cry.