Page 93 of The Prince Who Loved Me

What could he say that she didn’t already know? Every day something new stacked against them. He had no intention of letting her get away. He couldn’t lose her. She loved him. Even if she hadn’t said it, he was sure of that.

The two women in the library edged toward the door. He stepped out of their way, leaving a clear path for their exit.

The woman in red grabbed the other woman’s hand and they bolted from the room. Sebastien didn’t blame them.

“Come back home, Sebastien.” His father’s tone softened. “You’ve been away for far too long. We can even set up the drawing room for you to have your hobby.”

His father’s idea of concession. “My home is here now.”

His father stared down his nose at Sebastien, no small feat considering they were the same height. “Your home is in Casagnes.”

“What are you going to do?” Sebastien asked. “Kick me out of the line of succession?”

“I am your King.”

“Can’t you be my father for once instead?” Sebastien gazed into the lobby, wondering where Brandi had gone. The orchard seemed the most likely place, but he’d check the house first. “Don’t you remember your first love?”

“Mio figlio.” His dad shook his head. “She is not for you.”

“I suppose you want to turn to archaic traditions and find someone for me?”

“Your sisters and brothers managed to find acceptablespouses that way.”

“I am not my siblings.” Sebastien grit his teeth in frustration. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find the woman I love.”

He followed protocol and bowed deep to his King, waiting a few seconds before rising and taking ceremonious steps backward before calming his rushing blood and walking sedately up the grand staircase.

A guest with a camera was leaning over the railing that opened up to the stairs. She snapped a picture when Sebastien looked at her. “Oops, sorry about that. My sister’s an architecture buff. She’d love to see this place and the original materials.”

Sebastien grunted something non-committal and crossed to the servants staircase to get to the third floor. But Brandi wasn’t in her room.

Or in the kitchen, the stables, the orchard. At Belle’s. Or in the office. Brandi was nowhere to be found.

Her car was still in the lot, but that didn’t mean she was still at Fountenoy Hall. Maybe she had gotten a ride with one of her friends.

The house phone rang, breaking quiet of the lobby that had returned to normal after his father left. He sat on the chaise lounge at the bottom of the grand staircase, elbows on his knees and fingers linked, while he pondered his next move. A flash of light caught the corner of his eye and he looked toward the window opposite him. He saw nothing there.

Still. He took out his phone and texted his bodyman to canvass the grounds. Having grown up in the spotlight, he was used to unscrupulous paparazzi trying to get pictures.

Fountenoy Hall had always felt like home, from the first time visiting at university when he drove down the three-quarter mile drive and walked up the bifurcated staircase and into theyellow painted lobby as Wendy’s guest, right down to being served breakfast that morning. It was more like home than his family residence in Casagnes, where he was expected to act and behave a certain way.

Here he could be whoever he chose to be.

Massimo entered through the front door and approached Sebastien with a short bow. “Your High—” He cleared his throat at Sebastien’s glare at the honorific. “There was an unknown car in the lot, but it was driving away when I got there.”

It might have been someone sneaking around and taking pictures. Perhaps sitting in the lobby wasn’t the best of ideas.

Perhaps being in this house wasn’t the best of ideas. Trying to find a safe space was an exercise in futility. He should leave until everything calmed down. After he found Brandi.

The phone rang again as a couple entered the lobby. With a camera.

Dread filled his belly and he took the stairs two at a time, then opened the door to his room. The curtains were drawn, even though he remembered leaving them open. Loïc or Massimo could have closed them to prevent drones or high-range cameras from spying. He flicked on the light.

And saw bare shoulders. That weren’t Brandi’s.

“What the hell?”

The dark-haired woman under his covers sat up, letting the blankets slide to her waist. She opened her mouth, but Sebastien stepped into the hallway and slammed the door before she could say anything. “Loïc!”