Page 19 of Royal Secret

Itap the pen against my desk, the rhythmic click a poor distraction from the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The office is unusually quiet today, the silence punctuated only by the occasional murmur of conversation from the hallway and the soft clack of my keyboard. My mind should be on the reports I need to finalize before the end of the day, but instead, it’s swirling with thoughts of Courtney.

My father wants me to keep an eye on her, and I already know I will be best able to do that by getting close to her again, rather than spying on her from a distance. But how can I possibly bridge the gulf I’ve created between us?

And can I handle it? It will be a test of my strength, of my devotion to the crown and my country. No woman has ever tempted me like Courtney, and I already fear that, once I show up at her hotel after work, I will lose all strength and beg her to kiss me.

Then again, she might punch me the moment she sees me. In that case, I will be doing very little talking with a swollen lip.

The clock on the wall ticks away the minutes as I shuffle papers, sign documents, and halfheartedly sort through emails. It’s busywork, really; anything to keep my hands occupied while my mind races for a solution.

I will need to explain away the necklace. She will likely think I stole it —knowI stole it, that is. So, should I deny it? Or tell her the truth? That it belongs to my family and that I needed to return to it my father? In that case, should I tell her who I really am? Or does she already know by now?

Even if I am fully honest, it still won’t look good. How do you apologize for a betrayal that cuts so deep? How do you seek forgiveness when you’re not sure you even deserve it?

A sudden commotion in the hallway snaps me out of my reverie, and I stand abruptly, the chair rolling back with a thud. The voices outside are growing louder, tinged with urgency and confusion. I stride to the door, flinging it open just in time to see two burly security guards blocking Courtney’s path.

“You Highness, I’m sorry, but she insists—” one of the guards begins, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“Let her go,” I command, fixing my gaze on Courtney’s face. She’s a storm of emotions — anger, determination, vulnerability — and it stirs something protective within me. “It’s okay. Ms. Fuller is here to see me.”

The guards glance at each other, silently questioning, but they know better than to disobey. They step aside, and Courtney brushes past them like a force of nature, her eyes locked onto mine. There’s an electricity in the air, a current that pulses with unspoken words and pent-up frustrations.

“Come into my office,” I say softly, stepping aside to let her pass.

As she moves by me, a hint of her perfume lingers, a sweet floral scent that reminds me of the gardens in spring, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and pull her into an embrace. But I hold back, because right now, what Courtney needs is space and respect.

“Thank you,” she says, though the gratitude doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They’re still clouded with emotions I can’t quite read, and I wonder if there’s any way to clear the storm brewing behind them.

As we enter the sanctuary of my office, I close the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. It’s just the two of us now, and whatever comes next, I know I must face it head-on.

Her presence fills the room, her anger palpable. Before I can even attempt to mollify her with an explanation or a plea for understanding, she rounds on me.

“Jakob, where is it? The necklace!” Her hands are balled into fists at her sides, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “It was the last thing I had of my grandmother’s!”

I swallow hard, the words I need to say lodged in my throat like shards of broken glass. “Courtney, I’m so sorry. The necklace… it’s been reclaimed by the royal family.”

“Reclaimed?” She blinks rapidly, confusion etching her features. “But… but how could it belong to them? To…you?”

The last word is a hiss. So, she knows who I am. Of course, it couldn’t stay hidden forever. Bergovia is a small country, after all. I’m surprised she didn’t find out who I was while we were spending our magical day together.

“Your grandmother…” I start, then hesitate.

Should I unravel the threads of her family history? The silence stretches out, fraught and heavy.

“Jakob?” she prompts, her voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability. “Why would my grandmother have something that belonged to royalty?”

The question hangs in the air, an invitation for me to step into the breach. But I hold back, uncertain if it’s my place to reveal what little I know. Instead, I opt for caution, for kindness.

“Your family history is yours to discover. If you want to know more, I will tell you everything I can.” I pause, giving her space to process. “But only if you ask.”

She looks away, wrestling with the shock that has settled over her like a cold fog. In the stillness of the office, I see her grappling with the unknown, a puzzle she hadn’t anticipated needing to solve. Her eyes meet mine again, searching for something — perhaps comfort, perhaps clarity. All I can offer is my presence and the hope that when she’s ready, she’ll let me help her piece together the missing parts of her story.

“You know I want it back,” she says softly.

I draw a sharp breath, hating this part. “I do. But I hope you understand that I cannot give it back.”

Her head drops, hair shielding her face like a curtain. I wish so much to push it aside and be invited into her private world, but I stay where I am, anchored to the carpet.

“Then that’s that, I guess.” Her shoulders slump as she turns away from me, her hand reaching for the doorknob.

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