Page 14 of The Thing About My Prince
“I can’t put you through it.”
She has no idea how bad it would be, and I have to protect her from it. But since she doesn’t strike me as the type who would ever want to be protected, I need to use the thing that’s clearly most important to her. “They could wreck your career. Who would touch you for a job after the tabloids have mauled you for sleeping with The Loser Prince?”
She’s quiet for a second. “I saw that headline. It was reallyshitty. And I get that how they constantly sniped at your old girlfriend for being a bartender must make you reluctant to bring anyone in again.”
“That was my final straw. How they treated her tipped me over the edge to leave.” Maybe that will make Lexi understand.
“But I don’t care what they say about me,” she says. “This is just work for me. And I already have my dream job lined up for after this. I’ve signed the paperwork and everything. Nothing can affect it, or me, at all.”
“What’s the dream job?”
“War correspondent.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the irony.
“What?” she asks. “You think a not-tall thirty-three-year-old woman can’t cover international conflicts?”
“Not at all.” I take in her proud and—shit, it has to be said—stunning face. “I’m thinking how appropriate a skill that is for coming to stay with my family.”
Ah, she smiles. “So we have a deal?”
I put down my mug, pull my phone from my pocket, and tap around on it.
“Are you calling the big dudes at the front door to throw me out?” she asks.
“No. I’m ordering you some coffee. Because clearly you fucking hate my tea.”
CHAPTER FIVE
LEXI
“And after I’d finished my coffee, he had to leave for a meeting with one of the big streaming platforms about a documentary to tie in with the book release.”
“Whoa.” Becca leans back, and the Dead Skunk’s old wooden chair creaks. “You have had quite the day.”
“Yup.” I drain my fall special pumpkin ale. “I cannot believe I’ve got to go to a Scottish castle with a fucking prince and pretend to be his girlfriend and come up with enough sensible things to say about him to write a goddamn book.”
“It is quite the fairy tale situation.” Becca runs her pristinely polished pastel pink nails around the rim of her almost-empty glass of rosé.
“If you mean a hideous gothic fairy tale where two people who clearly have no respect for each other’s professions—if you can call being born to do nothing a profession—have to spend untold amounts of time together to both get what they want. Then yeah, it’s real Brothers Grimm stuff.”
“Another round?” asks Sasha, our favorite server and afashion student by day. “You certainly look like you could do with one tonight, Lexi.”
“She’s had a…let’s call it anunexpectedday,” Becca says. “So, yes, please.”
Sasha heads off toward the bar.
“I shouldn’t really,” I say. “I have a shit-ton of stuff to do tomorrow now. Laundry and packing for starters. What the hell do I wear to a fucking castle?”
“You haven’t even told me what he’s like yet,” Becca says. “And that’s the most important part.”
“No, it isn’t. The most important part is where I get this whole hideous experience over with as quickly as possible so I can get on with the rest of my actual career.”
She leans across the table. “But whatishe like?” she whispers.
I shrug.
“Okay.” She taps her fingertips together. “Imagine he’s not a prince born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Now tell me what he’s like.”
