With a sigh, she brushed past me. She smelled amazing. I’d thought at first it was her perfume, but it wasn’t. It was her hair. It was floral, but not in a heady way. It was fresh and slightly intoxicating. I’d imagined burying my face in her hair more times than I could count.
I watched as she settled on the bed, her back against the wall. My eyes narrowed as she tugged down her sweater to cover her lower abdomen, crossing her arms to hide herself. I didn’t want her to do that. I wanted her to know how gorgeous she was.
Anticipation agitating me, I had to force a look of patience.
“Fine.” Lily finally let out a heavy sigh. “There’s nothing else for us to do in here, is there?”
Relief surged through me. I gestured to the spot beside her on the bed. “May I?”
She considered the spot and then shrugged. “You may.”
Attempting to mask how adorable I found her irritation with me (I was smart enough to recognize that would not go down as anything other than male condescension when, frankly, the truth was I found everything about her adorable), I sat down on the bed. Settling with my back against the wall, I was careful to maintain distance between us. I didn’t want her to think I was pushing my luck.
My attention lingered briefly on her strong thighs. She wore distressed jeans and the tears in the denim revealed tantalizing glimpses of smooth, olive skin.
Ignoring the heat scoring through me, I looked away and tried to get comfortable. Sitting side by side was not the optimum positioning for this conversation. Finally, I gestured to the wall at the head of the bed. “Would you mind sitting there so I can look at you when I tell you this?”
Lily considered it, biting into her lush lower lip. With a small nod, she got up off the bed and then sat back down again with her back against the wall next to the window. I turned to face her.
This time, she met my stare as if to say “Get on with it, then.”
“First, a little backstory,” I began. “Olly isn’t a particularly close friend. He’s a friend of my roommate Harry. He went to boarding school with us but was in the year below. I didn’tknow him because they played rugby together. I played football.” I internally rolled my eyes at that inane detail. “Anyway, Olly started the podcast as a way to get back at Sierra.”
“I know about that,” Lily said dully. “The part I don’t understand is, number one, why you thought that was okay, and two, why you pretended to be a psychology student so I’d tutor you. Was it another way to infiltrate us? Get information you could use against us? Do you even realize how messed up and immature that is?”
I blanched. “Lily, I didn’t know that was the reason Olly started the podcast until I was in it. They asked me to join them. I thought it would be a lark, but because of who my family is, I didn’t just hide my identity like the lads, I decided to mask my accent, my voice.”
She frowned. “Who your family is?”
That surprised me. I was so sure she would know by now. “You … you don’t know who I am? I thought you’d have investigated the hell out of me after you broke into Olly’s flat.”
Her eyes widened and she pointed at the camera. “Not break. I did not break into anyone’s flat.”
Laughter thrummed in my throat. “Of course not. I meant when youvisitedOlly’s flat.”
She nodded with a huff. “Aye,visited. And no. I didn’t. Maddie did, but I told her I didn’t want to know anything about you.”
I winced. “Right.”
“So … why is your family a … thing?”
I didn’t care about admitting this in front of the psych grads. It was public knowledge. “I’m a member of the royal family. Thirtieth in line to the throne, to be exact.”
Her lips parted in comical shock. “Och, you’re joking, right? This another prank?”
“Not at all. Once you get out of here, you can google it.”
“You’re a member of the royal family? You are. You.” She pointed at me.
I nodded again. “My mother is the daughter of Princess Mary.”
Lily sat forward. “Your grandmother is the sister of the current Queen of England?”
My great-grandfather King Henry passed away two years ago, and his eldest daughter Anne was now queen.
“Yes.”
Her beautiful eyes darted over my face as if searching for my sincerity. Then she sat back against the wall. “I can see it. The resemblance. Especially to Alexander.” She referred to my second cousin, Queen Anne’s eldest son and heir to the throne. He was somewhat of a royal heartthrob.
