Page 41 of Prince of the Palisades

Heat spreads into my cheeks. “I’m sorry. For what I said at the party.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” I smirk. “Just that.”

“Fine.Here.” He shoves whatever he’s gripping into my chest. “I didn’t know if you’d have anything warm to change into. Gets a little cool this time of day.”

I hold it up. A cotton hoodie. Soft, thin, and bright yellow like the golden-weaver birds around Réverie.

“Thank you,” I whisper, still a little awed at the thoughtful gesture.

He shrugs. “Can’t have Willow Wood’s second-biggest star catching pneumonia before rehearsals start.”

Oh, right. The casting announcements. Even though I spent most of my time reading Wadsworth’s lines, I saw a lot of Mr. Green’s name throughout the script. I’m nowhere near as anxious as he is, but he’s funny. Plus, he plays a major part in the ending.

I slide the hoodie over my head. It’s a tight fit. It smells of earth and smoke, scents I now recognize from The Hopper. As I struggle, my T-shirt rides up my abdomen. Even with the hoodie’s collar caught around my nose, I can still see Reiss.

His eyes have zeroed in on my flash of brown skin. The definition in my stomach.Thank you for the years of swimming lessons, Atlantic.

I slow my motions. Give him an extra five seconds to look. When he twists his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes darker, I clear my throat, lowering my arms.

He startles back into the lockers.

“I should go,” I say, almost failing to conceal my pleased smile. “See you around?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he stammers.

“Oh.” I pause by the entranceway. “Don’t forget to highlight my dimples when you edit that video. Hate to disappoint my fans.”

“You’re way too cocky.”

“It’s not cockiness,” I tell him. “Simply facts.”

His lopsided grin returns. “Goodbye, Jadon.”

I mock-bow, then leave with my chin high, shoulders elegantly drawn back. It’s not until I’m halfway to the waiting car that it hits me. He didn’t sayYour Royal Arrogance.

Reiss called me Jadon.

8

ROYAL COMBAT?

Millions of hearts are aching over shocking images of Prince Abraham—Bram to the legions of Bramiacs—getting into a bar scuffle over the weekend. While sources reveal the Duke of Kinross threw the first (and last) punch, we can hardly believe our favorite ginger-haired sweetheart would instigate such an incident. Let’s ignore those pesky rumors of previous physical altercations between schoolmates and the Scottish prince.

In other news…read what celebrities think about roguish Prince Jadon’s escape to LA!

The oven timer dings as Samuel spreads a pile of magazines across the kitchen island.

“We have a problem.”

“Obviously.” I pull a tray from the double oven. “How many trees were murdered for those? You know you can read that stuffonlinenow, right?”

I inspect my pâte sucrée. Centauri’s pastry chefs taught me the art of creating the perfect thin, golden crust. A buttery sweet scent wafts in the air as I sweep aside the magazines for a place to rest the tray.

Samuel’s dramatic sigh begs for attention.

“Quoi?” I say.

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