Page 46 of The Unlikely Heir

I take a deep breath. “That’s easier said than done. Especially knowing the journalists are all salivating for me to mess up so I’ll write their headlines tomorrow.”

His dark eyes fix on mine. “Just be yourself, Callum.” His deep voice is soft, and there’s something about the way he says my name gently, stretching out the syllables. Cal-lum. Like it’s a word to be savored, treasured.

A weird bolt of electricity shoots through me as we gaze at each other. Does Oliver’s gaze contain some special energy that scientists haven’t yet discovered?

“Your Royal Highness.” The president of the Emphysema Foundation, Nastia, is suddenly at my side, looking flustered. “I’m so sorry about having to leave you before.” She glances at Oliver, and her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, hello, Prime Minister.”

“Hi, Nastia. I trust things are going well,” Oliver says.

“There have been a few last-minute hiccups, but nothing we can’t handle.” She gives him a bright smile. “Thank you so much for turning up. Your ongoing support means so much to the foundation.”

“I’m always happy to be here,” Oliver says smoothly. “The work you do is very important.”

It almost gives me whiplash seeing Oliver switch into smooth politician mode. It’s like seeing Clark Kent morph into Superman. Or maybe, it’s actually more like seeing Superman turn back into Clark Kent.

I don’t have time to process this before Nastia turns to me. “People are about to be encouraged to take their seats, Your Royal Highness. And then it’ll be time for the speeches. You are up first.”

Oliver leans forward. “Good luck,” he murmurs to me. The feel of his breath against the shell of my ear has the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up.

The spotlight they’ve set up on the stage is hot, and sweat immediately beads on my forehead. I put Maudie’s carefully written speech on the lectern, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

I glance up and scan the room, finally locating Oliver at one of the back tables.

His dark eyes lock on me, and he gives an encouraging nod.

Oliver believes in me.

The thought gives me a warm feeling as I take a deep breath, then begin my speech.

“Good evening. I’m so happy you could join us today for this important fundraiser for the Emphysema Foundation.”

I read the rest of the speech about the toll emphysema can take on a person’s life and the importance of the work of the Emphysema Foundation before finishing with a flourish.

“Thank you for your support, and let’s all work toward a brighter future for those affected by emphysema.”

Applause breaks out when I finish, and when I seek out Oliver in the crowd, he’s smiling at me.

I smile back.

It won’t feature in any highlight reels for amazing speeches, but at least I didn’t mess it up. I’m not sure it says great things when you’re pleasantly surprised by your own mediocrity.

I stumble off the stage, my legs weak with relief. Luckily my table is at the front of the room, so I don’t have to stumble too far.

I’m sitting at a table with a host of interesting people, but as fascinating as I find the conversation swirling around me, it seems my eyes have a will of their own. And there seems to be one destination they continually want to return to.

Oliver.

Oliver, with his chin resting on his hand as he listens attentively to the other speakers. Oliver, his forehead slightly scrunched as he talks to the guy next to him. Oliver, glancing up to catch me staring at him.

Yeah, that happens a few times because I’m not naturally gifted in subterfuge. The first time his eyebrows shoot up. The second time, he offers me a quick smile before his neighbor demands his attention.

But the third time, we catch each other’s eyes across the room, and our gazes intertwine like they are tied together by some hypnotic force.

A small line develops on Oliver’s forehead as if he’s confused that neither of us appears capable of ripping our eyes away from the other.

Maybe it’s because Oliver and I are usually deep into our message chat by this time of night, so our brains are now instinctively drawn to each other.

I’m not sure if sharing this theory with Oliver would be a good thing though. I still don’t know if Oliver messages me out of pity and what he believes is his duty to the crown.