Page 20 of Royal Secret

“Where are you going?” My voice catches on the question.

“I need to leave — catch the next flight out.”

“Wait, Courtney.” The words escape me before I can think them through. She stops, poised on the threshold, the line of her back rigid with defeat yet brimming with an urge to flee.

“Please, just hear me out,” I say, my voice low, hoping to convey a sincerity that might bridge the distance between us.

Guilt gnaws at my conscience — the role I’ve played in her current distress, and the duty I owe my father, which has ensnared her in its web.

She turns slowly, her gaze wary, an ocean of emotions I fear I’m drowning in. “What? I really don’t have time for?—”

“Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to leave like this,” I say, stepping closer but careful not to crowd her. “Bergovia… it’s part of you, Courtney. And there’s so much more you haven’t seen; places steeped in history, landscapes that would take your breath away.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, suspicion threading through the hurt. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because…” I start, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat, “you have a heritage here — a lost heritage — that’s worth knowing. I could show it to you. Teach you it.”

My offering hangs in the air, fragile as a soap bubble, reflecting the myriad possibilities of what could be if she chooses to stay.

“Teach me?” Her voice is a mere murmur, laced with a hesitancy that matches the tremor in my hands. “About my family?”

“About Bergovia. I can take some time off work and show you around. If you’ll let me.” The words are a promise, one I intendto keep, even if it means I won’t get to do it in exactly the way I want to.

She chews on her bottom lip, contemplating the offer, her decision suspended like the last golden leaf on a tree, ready to fall but still holding on.

“Maybe,” she breathes out at last, leaving the word to float between us, unanchored and undefined.

“Maybe” isn’t a no, but neither is it a yes. It’s a sliver of hope, though, and for now, that’s enough for me to hold on to.

CHAPTER 12

COURTNEY

The immensity of what I’ve just found out presses heavily on my shoulders as I stand in Jakob’s office, surrounded by his expensive furniture and framed photos of men and women in suits. This still doesn’t make sense.

How could my grandmother have taken something that wasn’t hers? The idea seems alien, impossible even, yet here I am, face-to-face with a prince who claims the necklace belongs to his family.

“Listen,” I say, voice barely more than a breath. “The necklace — my grandmother cherished it. It was the one thing she left me when she died.” My eyes lift to meet his, searching for some understanding. “I can’t reconcile the woman I knew with theft. It doesn’t make sense.”

He watches me with a look that’s part pity, part regret. “Courtney, I understand this is difficult. But sometimes, history has a way of hiding its less favorable chapters.”

I nod slowly. Despite the turmoil inside me, if the necklace is rightfully theirs, then I won’t keep it. That’s not who I am orwho my grandmother and mom raised me to be. But the sting of betrayal still lingers, turning the air between us thick with unsaid words. Did he get close to me just for this piece of jewelry?

I glance around his office, at the espresso machine that looks like it cost tens of thousands of dollars, and the amazing view of the city. A world so removed from mine, a world where Jakob isn’t just a man — he’s a prince and a bigwig in this security department, with all the responsibilities and expectations those titles carry. And yet, he’s offered to show me around Bergovia, his home, his realm.

“Is this your way of apologizing?” I ask, the question hanging like a fragile ornament in the space between us.

“Partly,” he admits. He steps closer, and I’m acutely aware of the warmth radiating from him. “But also, I want you to see the beauty of Bergovia. Through your lens, perhaps even through your heart.”

My breath hitches. His words weave a spellbinding image, tempting and sweet, but I can’t forget how we got here — that he played me.

Then again… could it be that he wants to spend more time with me? Does he feel something beyond duty and obligation? Or is it just the guilt of using me to retrieve a lost heirloom?

“Jakob, I…” The words tangle in my throat, uncertainty clouding the desire I still shamelessly have to spend more time with him.

Despite what he did, last night’s touches and kisses still linger, and I can’t just shed them. They cling to my skin, to my heart, impacting my every thought and breath.

“Please,” he says, and there’s an earnestness in his voice that makes it hard to stay guarded. “Let me show you my country. Let me make this right.”

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