Page 6

CHAPTER 6

V ictoria leaned against the upper level’s Perspex balcony, surveying the sprawling club below. Sparkly booths encircled a sunken dance floor, while VIP corners buzzed with A-listers from music, film, and sport. She’d already exchanged pleasantries with Hollywood stars whose names escaped her, though they seemed to know her well enough. A lifetime in the public eye meant constant double-takes, especially in unexpected places like this. Sometimes she played along when asked if she was the real princess; other times, she claimed to be a lookalike just to escape the conversation.

The music thundered through her chest. It wasn’t really her scene, but she’d made promises to herself and to Dexter. Her eyes swept the crowd until she spotted him, deep in conversation with Sid, his boyfriend. So much for having some time alone first.

Victoria’s attention snapped to whooping from the dancefloor, where a group of women with athletic builds danced to a familiar football anthem. Her eyes fixed on one face: long hair, gangly, but her name hovered just out of reach. She was one of England’s veterans, irreplaceable in midfield.

Sally? Sophie? No. Then it clicked: Sasha Goodall, Royal Ravens’ and Lionesses’ dynamo. Of course. They’d met at a children’s home where Sasha had made her laugh, a rare gift Victoria never forgot.

Her heart quickened. If Sasha was here, was Ash, too? Victoria gripped the balcony tighter. Had she imagined their moment the other day? Probably. Ash didn’t know about Victoria’s arrangement with Dexter. Plus, she was likely attached, and certainly didn’t see Victoria as girlfriend material.

Girlfriend material? Victoria shook her head. She needed a real life beyond her title and duties. Though that was easier said than done.

A hand on her shoulder broke her thoughts. She turned to find Princess Astrid beside her. Sweden’s party princess, also an out and proud lesbian. Victoria had always got on with Astrid, always admired her stance on living as her authentic self. It was easier in Sweden, but it still took courage. Her signature platinum-white hair caught the strobing lights, creating a halo effect that matched her reputation for lighting up every room she entered. She carried herself with an effortless swagger, her tailored blazer draped over a jaunty shirt showing her rebellious spirit.

“How’s my favourite princess doing?” Astrid leaned over the balcony and scanned the dancefloor. “Have you identified someone down there you’d like to get up close and personal with?”

Victoria blushed at Astrid reading her mind. “Of course not. That’s not how royal minds work.” But she grinned at Astrid as she spoke.

“I’m on my way to the terrace. Come with me? There’s a bottle of Krug on ice with our names on it.”

Astrid’s fingers were warm around Victoria’s as she allowed herself to be led through a sliding door, and outside onto a balcony not dissimilar in size to the famous one at Buckingham Palace. The one she’d stood and waved on countless times. When Victoria walked onto any balcony, she sometimes had to stop her hand from moving. Muscle memory was a thing.

Astrid’s wife Sofia was already in one corner, chatting to a group of three other women. Astrid led Victoria over, then introduced her around the group. There were a couple of wide eyes when the group clocked who she was. Victoria was used to that.

“And this,” Astrid said, giving Victoria a pointed smile, “is Lucienne. She’s a friend who’s big in the music industry. What she doesn’t know about pop stars isn’t worth knowing, frankly.” Astrid leaned in. “Victoria’s a huge Swiftie.”

Lucienne shook Victoria’s hand while fixing her with a strong gaze. “Lovely to meet you. Astrid’s told me a lot about you.” Her voice was low, silky, her eyes the colour of burnished bronze.

They were not as arresting as Ashleigh Woods’ eyes .

“I never think about British royals listening to pop music,” Lucienne continued. “In my head, you’re more about the proms and classical.”

Victoria tried not to wince as she let go of Lucienne’s hand. People who didn’t think she did normal things pissed her off.

“We like pop music. We also eat food, go to the bathroom and sleep every day, too.”

Lucienne’s eyes widened at that answer.

Okay, perhaps that was a little much. It was just, Lucienne had touched a nerve.

“Okaaay,” Astrid said, steering the conversation back to the group. “Does anyone need champagne?”

Victoria did, but she also didn’t want to be here right now. Her mind wandered to the group downstairs. She bet they were having more fun than she was. She put up a finger. “You know what, I do, but just excuse me a minute. Nature calls.”

Without letting Astrid respond, Victoria slipped away and down the steps of the club. However, when she got downstairs and spotted the group of footballers, she was overcome with shyness. What was she going to say if she went up to them? She’d been in dressing rooms before and always found them intimidating places. She’d also been on teams when she was in school, and she knew if you weren’t a part of those teams, you were an outsider.

Victoria stopped. This was ridiculous. She’d just run off from Astrid who wouldn’t set her up with just a random. Lucienne had been stunning, and clearly available if her solid eye contact was anything to go by. What was Victoria doing, chasing a footballer around a club on her first night away, just because they may or may not have had a connection? More to the point, she hadn’t even seen her yet.

She closed her eyes, then had a need to get out of there before things got any worse. Before she started to question her own existence, and why she was living a total lie.

She turned, saw a door, slid it across. Another balcony. She’d take a moment to regroup, then go back to Astrid. To Lucienne. Maybe she needed to give her a chance. Victoria closed the door and breathed in the fresh air. It was only when she looked right, she realised there was another person on the balcony.

Ashleigh Woods.

A bottle of beer in each hand.

Dressed in a white outfit that showed off her taut arms and shoulders.

Far more skin on show than five days ago.

Up this close, Ashleigh only confirmed Victoria’s initial impression. That she was stupid-gorgeous.

Victoria instructed herself not to stare too hard.

When Ash saw Victoria, her mouth dropped open ever-so-slightly.

“It’s you,” Ash blurted, then looked like she wanted the world to swallow her up. “I mean, Victoria.” Another wince. “I mean, Your Royal Highness.”

All of which caused Victoria to choke out a laugh. A genuine laugh. The first she’d managed tonight. One she desperately needed.

“Victoria is just fine.”

But Ash shook her head. “I don’t think it is. At least, that’s what my agent told me. And my mum. I have a terrible habit of being too familiar with people.” She paused, fixing Victoria with her warm gaze, just as she had the first time.

Victoria had been right about her eyes: they sparkled like emeralds.

“Should I already have curtsied or something?”

Victoria walked towards her, then stopped, leaving a gap of a few inches. Stay calm. Play this cool. She could totally do that. She breathed in the Mediterranean air, thick with jasmine. The music from inside thumped against the glass doors: some remix of an old dance track she'd heard a thousand times when she was at college in Oxford.

She stared at Ash, feeling that same pull towards her she had the first time. Which was totally stupid. She didn’t even know her.

“I seem to recall you didn’t curtsy when we met the other day, either.”

Ash grimaced. “Not really my jam.”

“Nor mine.”

“Thank god.” Ash slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, cool.” She nodded. “Cool, cool.” Then she held out a bottle of beer. “Would you like this? I assume it’s not all caviar and champagne where you live?” She frowned. “Or it might be. If all those movies I’ve watched about royals prove to be right, then I’m an idiot.” She paused. “I haven’t drunk any of it. I got it for my friend Cam, but she’s on the dance floor getting lost in the music, and I’m out here escaping it.”

Victoria accepted the beer. “Thank you. I was offered champagne upstairs, but I fled.” Why had she just said that?

“Beer will help. Probably. Or it’ll make it worse.” Ash paused. “Anyway, the one thing I haven’t even thought about until now is: what the hell are you doing in this club? You’re not stalking me, are you?”