Page 3 of Prince She Shouldn’t Crave (Royal House of Halrovia #2)

Then he’d died just three months earlier.

Suddenly. Shockingly. Soon after, their life had imploded.

The half-brother she’d never met had arrived on their doorstep stating that ‘the gravy train’, as he so crudely had put it, was over.

Her mother could keep her jewels and whatever gifts she’d been given during her father’s life and that was all.

Her father hadn’t recognised her family in his will.

As far as the legitimate family was concerned, Lena, her mother and her brother didn’t exist. The sour taste of bile rose to Lena’s throat.

He’d said they were a dirty stain on a great man’s legacy.

Which was why she needed this role. Lena’s whole future relied on it.

To keep her younger brother in education so he could make something of himself.

To support her mother so she wouldn’t end up destitute, on the street.

And if she didn’t pull herself together, it seemed as if it might slip through her fingers.

‘I’d hoped my references spoke for themselves. Each employer I’ve worked for showed an increase in business due to my efforts.’

Prince Gabriel narrowed his eyes. ‘That may be so, yet your career didn’t start in managing people’s images and PR. You seem to have fallen into the role by chance rather than design.’

‘There is a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.’

A quote from Shakespeare, often used by one of her favourite teachers, a woman whose wisdom she missed.

Especially when her mother’s idea for solving their current crisis was for Lena to find a wealthy man and either advantageously marry or become a well-cared-for mistress, just as she’d been, and provide for the family.

Her mother had even named possible males who might be in the market.

The prospect of this job had fallen into her lap at exactly the right time. The universe was telling her the role was hers, she just needed to secure it.

‘You’re correct. In my first job I was employed to wait café tables, but my employer asked me to post some pictures on social media. Their page became hugely popular and people started flooding to the café because of the vibe we showed them on the social channels.’

She was only nineteen when she started that job.

One her mother said she didn’t need, but Lena had wanted anyhow.

To have money and something of her own, not handed to her by an absent father.

Lena got a buzz from how big the café’s page had become, how customers came in because they’d seen her posts.

But what she’d said didn’t seem to impress Prince Gabriel.

He raised one strong, dark eyebrow. A contrast to his hair, which was a magnificent, tamed mane of burnished gold.

‘And yet should you succeed in this interview you’d be managing more than my…vibe.’

His image and his ‘vibe’ were kind of the same thing, in her opinion anyhow, but she wasn’t about to disagree with him.

‘My next job was more intentional.’ A florist and gift shop supporting local artisans from Isolobello.

Whilst working in the gift shop there, Lena had suggested a bigger social media presence.

Posting pictures of the glorious blooms. Featuring the work of various creators.

‘Through my efforts, their business became extremely popular and drew the attention of your sister, who’d come into the store because she’d seen my posts on social media showcasing my employer’s values in supporting lesser-known artists. ’

‘I believe the person you’re meaning to refer to, Ms Rosetti, is Princess Priscilla .’

‘Of course, Your Highness.’

Heat crept up her neck, prickling where the tag of her loathsome black jacket scratched her skin.

She tugged at the collar, but that didn’t seem to help much.

Lena found it hard to think of Prince Gabriel’s sister as a princess.

Cilla , as she’d demanded to be called within five minutes of meeting Lena, didn’t care one bit about royal titles.

They’d quickly struck up an easy kind of friendship.

When Lena decided it was time to move on from her job in the florist’s, Cilla had suggested a role in Isolobello’s palace as a junior in their social media and PR department.

‘Would you care to remove your jacket, Ms Rosetti?’ Prince Gabriel asked. His voice deep and rich like the hot chocolate she loved to drink as a treat when something had gone well. ‘Whilst this is a professional workplace, they’re not always required.’

She didn’t believe him. This man looked so tightly buttoned up she’d almost bet that he’d have to be cut out of his suit each evening. Then, each morning, a new one would be stitched right back onto his fine, fine body.

Fine body? Where had that thought come from?

‘Thank you, n-no. I—I’m quite comfortable.’

She was anything but. And although she wanted to accept his invitation and tear off her jacket with every fibre of her existence, she couldn’t.

On the way to the palace, she’d had a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would give her a bit of a boost. She should have known that wearing a white shirt was an invitation to spill something on it.

If she took off her jacket now, His Royal Highness would see a good portion of her shirt indelibly stained, because of her clumsiness.

Something her mother always complained about.

‘You’re as elegant as a newborn donkey. Glide, Lena. Glide like a swan.’

Lena bet her mother had never seen a newborn donkey. Yet she shouldn’t be thinking about spilled coffee or stuttering or blushing. She should be answering his questions. This job was a stepping stone to securing her family’s future. To even bigger, better things.

Lena took a steadying breath. She knew how to do this. She’d prepared for it, the possible questions. The answers she needed to give.

‘Earlier, sir, you pointed out my lack of university qualifications. I respect a formal education.’ More than respected it, she’d craved it, had seen it as a way to avoid what had befallen her beautiful, unqualified mother.

Her parents hadn’t seen the point of a degree in PR and marketing, suggesting something like art history which Lena had no interest in.

But they’d finally capitulated after she simply applied to her university of choice and been accepted, even if she had started her degree far later than her peers.

When Lena had been forced to give up her own studies after her father had died, it had been a crushing sacrifice.

‘However, the job you’re asking me to do requires creativity, and a deep understanding of the audience you’re trying to connect with.

As I assess the role, I am the audience.

You’re trying to connect with someone like me . ’

Prince Gabriel cocked his head. Narrowed his gaze. She felt skewered to the spot. Rather like a butterfly pinned to a board by an icicle.

‘Am I, Ms Rosetti?’

Lena froze. Did she really say that? Him, connecting with her?

What was she thinking? The truth was, not much at all.

Everything about him seemed so intentional and planned that he discombobulated her.

His frigid blue tie matching icy blue eyes that the Montroy family were famed for.

His shirt, white like hers, but unmarred by coffee.

Impeccably pressed. Not a wrinkle to be seen.

In fact, no wrinkle would dare . He was so perfect she was terrified that if she got too close her clumsiness would overwhelm her and she’d somehow manage to spill something on him, like the untouched mug that was sitting on his desk.

Yet if she allowed herself to be distracted by all of this—all of him—she’d fail, then where would she be left? She didn’t want a relationship like her mother had had, or a marriage to some rich man who sought her out because of her age, her looks and—if they found out—her cursed virginity.

Lena shuddered and pulled herself together.

‘That’s what your brief said. That you’re looking at connecting with younger people and I’m young—’

‘ How young?’

‘The demographic your job description said you wanted to target is eighteen to twenty-five and I’m twenty-three. I’m at the upper end.’

‘And how do you suppose I’m to…connect? You’ve given me no answers, only more questions as to why you’re better than any other potential candidate for the role.’

Lena sat up a bit straighter. Whatever this man thought or said, she was good at what she did.

And she’d been working informally and then formally in this type of role since her first job.

In her favour, Lena also knew what it was like working for royalty.

Sure, getting the job with Isolobello’s royal family had been more luck rather than planning.

As for this job, Cilla had said her brother needed someone like Lena.

And she’d happily move to Halrovia permanently if it meant a step up in responsibility and income.

‘You might recall the announcement of Prince Caspar’s engagement. The celebration weekend. Isolobello’s Crown Prince finally set to marry.’

Prince Gabriel sat back in his seat, a little more relaxed.

The corner of his perfect mouth curling in what threatened to be a smile but never quite made it.

She wanted to see him smile and dreaded it all the same, because if he smiled, every available and inclined woman on the planet would become utterly infatuated with him.

Give him one shred of warmth and people wouldn’t be able to help themselves.

She didn’t know why that thought made acid churn in her gut.

‘I do recall, given, as you so eloquently put it before, Prince Caspar’s fiancée is my sister .’

She knew then that he was trying to be…princely. Lena’s job was to stop him hiding behind his title and start showing the world Gabriel Montroy, even though it was clear that he wasn’t at all keen on the idea.