Rocco’s features lift. “He’s a good guy. The best. Sure, he has fun at parties. What young, single guy doesn’t? But he’s got a deeper side, too.”
Max calls out to the girl as she tries to heave herself up the rope. “You can do it, Adella! You’ve got this!”
She tries and tries, sliding down the wall each time, until she lands in a defeated heap. Immediately, Max crouches down beside her, his hand on her shoulder. A few moments later, Max himself begins to climb the wall, his strong, muscular arms pulling him up and over as he calls out instructions to Adella. She follows behind, and when she’s almost at the top, he reaches down and hauls her up and over with one strong arm.
“Look, I get it. You love to write about all the stupid things he does, and I’ll admit, he’s made some pretty dumb mistakes. But you? You’ve reported each and every one of them. Why is that?”
“As a journalist, it’s my duty to?—”
“Don’t give me that crap,” he says, interrupting me. “You know stories about him playing the fool will get people’s attention.”
It’s as though I’m being told off for something I already know I’ve done wrong. Max is more than the person I’ve represented him as, and I need to right that wrong, starting from now.
I’m about to respond when Pippa arrives, her phone in hand.
"Fab, have you seen this?" she asks, and Rocco gives me a curt not of his head before he moves away to talk with one of the teens.
“Seen what?” I ask.
She hands me her phone. It's an article from The Post with the headlineRoyal Correspondent or Royal Mystery?
What the…?
I scan the text, my heart beating fast.
Why was it Fabiana Fontaine who won the contract to document HRH Prince Max? How did she manage to work her way into theinner sanctum of the royal family when she herself has been such a vocal commentator on Max’s behavior over the years? Did the palace choose her because she's the superior journalist? Or did they choose her because she has the inside track on all things royal? Some may call it uncanny. Me? I call it suspicious…
“I’m sure it's just jealousy, but I thought you should see it," Pippa says. "Other journalists want to get to do what you’re doing here.”
I pull my lips into a smile, feigning nonchalance as I hand her back her phone. “Or just Miranda Thorne.”
But the article has got me on edge. Miranda Thorne isn't just watching anymore, throwing snide remarks my way at a party. She's gone public.
What exactly is she getting at by calling me out on having some kind of inside track with royalty?
A prickle runs along my spine, tiny needles under my skin. I blow out a breath. She knows nothing, I tell myself. My cover is rock solid.
But as the afternoon’s activities wrap up and the kids head to the showers, I can’t help but worry that Miranda Thorne is on a mission, and all I can hope is that she meets a dead end sooner rather than later.
Chapter 15
Valentina
I find Max on the patio in the late afternoon sun, leaning back on one of the comfortable sofas, reading his phone. I fold my legs under myself and sink down into the cushion next to him.
“I brought you a drink of lemonade,” I say, holding up two glasses.
“How do I know you haven’t poisoned mine?” he asks, his lips lifting into a smile that tickles my belly.
I let out a surprised laugh. “Poison you?Max, if I were going to do that, I’d wait until the end of our month together, not do it less than one week in.” I hold one of the glasses out for him, and he takes it.
“It’s so reassuring to know you’ve thought about this, Fabiana.”
“Murder is probably only my third preferred option right now,” I reply
“Dare I ask what your first is?”
Immediately, my head is filled with the idea of gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him to me, and pressing my lips against his.
