Page 109 of The Unlikely Heir

Oliver’s smile fades. “What did you say to him?”

I scrub my hands over my face. “That I’d think about it.”

A muscle in Oliver’s jaw works. “It can’t hurt for you to be seen going on a few dates,” he says finally.

I just stare at him through the screen. “Are you seriously okay with me dating?”

“Of course I’m not. But I understand if you have to do it.”

It feels like someone has my chest in a vice and is squeezing.

Suddenly, it’s all too much. The pressure, Nicholas’s jibes, missing Oliver, knowing I’m going to have to go on a date and pretend to enjoy myself while the world’s media watches, knowing I can’t be with the man I love. The frustration, the longing, and the uncertainty of our future threaten to consume me, leaving me unsteady and lost.

My words emerge in a gush. “I need you, Oliver. I don’t care if I have to crawl over broken glass or through blazing fire to get to you. I don’t care. I need to touch you. I need to kiss you.” My chest heaves and tears prickle my eyes.

Oliver stares at me for a few heartbeats, his face flickering with emotion. Then he exhales slowly. “I’ll come to you,” he says. “Clear it with your security team and give me half an hour. But I’ll get there.”

“Thank you.” The words whoosh out of me.

Oliver ends the video call, leaving me staring at the blank screen.

I lurch to my feet, still struggling to calm my racing heart, and head into the hallway to find my security team.

Mateo is on duty. He’s a no-nonsense guy who I’ve always liked. Although he’s potentially not going to like me for what I’m about to unleash on him.

I clear my throat. “Um…Mateo, the prime minister is going be coming to the palace to see me. Can you get it cleared by whoever it needs to be cleared by?”

A frown line forms between Mateo’s eyes. “Oliver Hartwell is coming here? Now?”

“Yeah. In about half an hour.”

“Where are you going to be meeting him?”

“Uh…he’s going to be coming to my apartment. It’s a private visit.”

I try not to blush, but I’m fairly sure the heat my face is generating could be used to power a whole city.

Mateo’s eyes widen for a second, but then his frown line reappears as if he’s still confused, like he’s dismissed the normal conclusions he would draw in these circumstances because it’s too unlikely.

I’m neither going to confirm nor deny the suspicions my security guard has about what I’m planning to do with the prime minister.

I retreat to my apartment, where I stare at the William Turner landscape on the wall, trying to let the cool colors and serenity of the British landscape soothe me as the minutes tick by.

It doesn’t work.

Finally, there’s a knock on my door.

Oliver.

I barely let him get inside the door before I’m on him. I sink into our kiss, and I’m drowning, drowning in all things Oliver.

He pulls back, one hand still on my cheek, studying me with his dark eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“Not really.”

I kiss him again. It starts off ferocious but softens to something languid, Oliver’s tongue caressing mine like we have all the time in the world to be together.