Page 27 of The Princess Trap

“—But Cherry doesnotwant to marry me. At all. Not even close.”

“Actually, I did notice that.” Hans said this a little too smugly for Ruben’s liking. “But I am not talking about arealengagement.”

Ruben eyed his friend warily. “Continue.”

“I mean, you ask her to play the role of fiancée. For a period of time, I don’t know; a long engagement. Long enough for the press to become bored of her, and for your brother to forget you exist.”

“I wish,” Ruben muttered.

“Then she leaves you, yes? And you are a tragic figure. Everyone feels sorry for you. It blows over. Understand?”

Ruben tapped his fingers against his thighs as he mulled that plan over. “I don’t know. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

“You have a better idea?”

“It’sextremelyridiculous.”

“Okay. Give me an alternative. Another way to extricate yourself from this situation without a repeat of the last eight months.”

Ruben clamped his teeth together. “I don’t know. She’d never agree to that.”

“She might. If you offer the appropriate motivation.” Then, at Ruben’s baffled look, he added, “Money. People need money,Your Highness.” He was still angry, then, despite all his advice.

“Oh. Right. Of course. Do you think she’d do that? For money? Put herself in that position?”

“You’ve already put her in that position. She might as well get something out of it. And I think you’ll find that most people, these days, are in desperate need of money. Offer her enough, and see what happens.”

The silence stretched out between them as seconds crept into minutes.

Then, finally, Ruben spoke. “You might be onto something.”

Chapter Ten

Cherry spent the next day on edge. She was waiting for someone with a camera to leap out from the bushes and call her a slut in Danish. Or for Chris to sack her for inappropriate fraternisation with the Academy’s personal prince. Or something.

None of that happened. In fact, nothing unusual happened at all. Until she left work that afternoon.

She chugged down the long, gentle hill towards the outskirts of town, turning the corner before her flat—only to brake sharply when she came car-to-face with a horde of shouting people.

She blinked, confused. What the fuck were they doing, crawling across the street like a nest of ants? That was a sharp bend; she could’ve hit someone. Did they have no sense of self-preservation?

Then the first camera flash popped into view, sending stars across her vision.

No way. No fucking way.

“It’s her! That’s the car!”

Oh, fuck.

A fist banged against her window, and then one guy sprawled his whole damn body across the hood of her poor little Corsa, camera flashing right in her face.

Looked like Maggie’s confidence had been misplaced. Apparently, some peopledidcare about foreign royals.

Cherry smiled. It was her prettiest smile, not seductive or charming but delightful and demure. She turned her head slightly to display the left side of her face. If she was about to play a starring role in some gossip rag, they should at least get her good side.

She gave them a solid three seconds of beauty. Then she slammed the accelerator.

They scrambled. She had to hand it to them; they were quick. Although, the guy who’d been lying across her hood rolled off the car and right onto the road. Oh, dear. Thathadto hurt. Maybe his fancy fucking camera had broken the fall.