He bowed his head, though he was aware of her moving into the kitchenette area, running water, cabinets opening. And then a coffee maker quietly chugged and hissed.
He used one hand to rub his face. He felt weary, even though he'd slept.
"I've spent several weeks finessing the language in the exports bill…" He waved off his own words. She didn't care about the details of some bill parliament was trying to push through. No one else did, either. At least that's what it felt like. "And the media is probably going crazy because my brother showed up with a baby in tow."
Max was surely playing the sympathy card. Eating up the attention.
"Who knows if that was even his child," Valentin burst out. He let his hand fall away from his face, and the remote clattered to the coffee table.
And Crystal was standing right there, a glass of water in hand. She'd abandoned the kitchen and gotten an up-close view of his temper. Again.
"I'm sorry." He stood up, ignoring the stiffness in his muscles. "You always seem to see me at my worst." Humiliation heated his neck, warmth leaching up into his face. "If you'll tell me where my car keys are, I'll get out of your hair."
He made a point of not meeting her gaze. Had it only been a couple of days before when he'd been thinking how much he liked her? And now this.
She set the water glass on a side table, and the next thing he knew, she'd reached out and touched his forearm, her fingers cool and soft.
At the touch, his frantic thoughts stopped whirling. A visceral memory fought through the haze of yesterday's chaos. Him taking her hand on the sidewalk. And knowing that because she was near, everything was going to be all right.
He looked down at the place where she touched him now, her paler skin against his tan.
And he wanted to hold her hand again. He needed it.
So he moved the few inches it took to clasp her hand in his.
For one blissful moment, everything else fell away. There was no Max, no royal duty, no scandal.
Only Crystal, only the solid weight of her hand in his, only her sweet scent in his nose.
He breathed in deeply, not realizing until she spoke that he'd let his eyes fall closed.
"What would happen if you didn't turn on the news? If you turned off your cell phone for a few hours? If you left the prince back at the castle?"
Nothing. Nothing would happen. His mother was the reigning monarch. Taking care of the country was her duty, for now and for decades to come.
Mother and Father might worry if they tried to reach him and couldn't. They'd forgive him once he turned his phone back on.
Conrad would handle anything that came up.
But—
"I'm not sure I can do it." He opened his eyes as he admitted it. He wanted to see her expressive face. "I've buried myself in my duties for so long... Apart from the prince, I'm not even sure I know who the man is."
Her eyes were soft. He wanted... he wanted things he shouldn't be thinking about.
"The man needs a shower." She said the words with an adorable wrinkle of her nose. "And then coffee. And then you can decide what to do."
Crystal was stirringpancake batter in the kitchen when she heard the shower shut off. With company watching curiously from the barstools at her counter.
She needed some way to warn Valentin what was coming.
But fatigue and confusion had her by the throat. She was out of ideas. She was going to have to bluster her way through this. She made her way around the counter but was too slow to catch the prince.
Valentin stopped short out of the hallway when he spotted the two men sitting casually on stools.
She'd raided the recesses of her closet to find the track pants that had once belonged to Michael and an oversize sweatshirt that she'd stolen from Reid last winter. She'd never seen the prince dressed so casually. It was his wary expression that she wanted to ease if she could.
And then Michael spoke. "You spent the night with the crown prince?"
