“Home?” Nolan asks.
“Please.”
Louis pulls me against his side as we merge into traffic, and I tuck my head against his shoulder while watching the streets move past with their neon lights and late-night crowds.
“Did you have a good time?” he asks.
“Incredible.”
He tilts my chin up and kisses me, soft at first and then deeper. His fingers thread into my hair, and I grip his jacket as the city blurs outside the windows.
“I love you,” he says against my mouth.
“I love you too.”
Nolan eventually turns onto my street, and I let my eyes close, feeling happier than I’ve been in a long time. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.
When the car slows and comes to a stop, I notice a black SUV parked at the curb. Two men in dark suits stand beside it, both of them built like linebackers with broad shoulders and thick necks. They have the same haircut, posture, and blank expression. Earpieces curl behind their ears, and their eyes scan the street.
I sit up, suddenly alert even though I’ve had too much to drink. “Louis, look at those men. They look like Secret Service.”
His whole body goes rigid beside me. His hand finds mine and squeezes.
“Fuck,” he says. “You stay close to me.”
We don’t get out of the car because one of the men approaches the door. The guy stands close to the window, and Nolan lowers the window a crack.
“Can I help you?”
“Miss Cross. Your Highness. You both need to come with us,” the man says.
Louis shakes his head. “Explain immediately.”
“There’s a plane waiting at the airport. You’re required to return to Montclaire.”
Louis’s voice drops low. “By whose authority?”
“The king. His Majesty wants to see you.” The man steps back. “This isn’t a request, Your Highness. You need to come with us.”
Louis glances at me, and for the first time since being in New York, I see fear in his eyes.
Hisfathersent for us.
This feels very wrong.
37
LOUIS
This means one of two things. Either he’s been made aware of the entire situation my mother created, or he’s not doing well. But he has been passive all summer and hasn’t intervened in palace affairs since his diagnosis. Why now? Maybe because everything is a total shit show. It’s impossible to ignore if the palace is giving statements about what happened.
“Louis”—Addison’s voice cuts through the fog—“what do we do?”
The paparazzi are still across the street, cameras ready, waiting for us to step out of the car. They’ve been here all night, and they’re not leaving without their shot. Whatever we do next, they’re going to capture it.
“We go with them.” I squeeze her hand and keep my voice steady, even though my pulse is racing. “But we do it calmly. The cameras are still watching.”
“Are you sure about this?” Nolan asks, rolling up the window on the royal guards.
