The door clicks shut behind Louis, and then I’m left standing there with my entire body buzzing. I’m full of want, need, andfrustration. Had we not been interrupted …
When we’re together, nothing else in the world matters, especially not consequences.
I should leave, but after five minutes pass, my feet don’t want to cooperate. Instead, I stand in the middle of his living room with the key to this place in my pocket, like he wants me here, with all the things he treasures the most. His loft is nothing like the rest of the palace.
Beside the stove, there are worn cookbooks with cracked spines and wooden spoons that I can tell have been used. A record player sits in the corner with vinyl stacked beside it. When I flip through, I find old French crooners, oldies, a surprising amount of ’90s alternative rock, and hip-hop that makes me smile. Boyz II Men, Tupac, Jay-Z, Biggie, Dre, 50 Cent, and Bone Thugs-n-Harmony. I keep going and find Spice Girls, Beastie Boys, The Verve, Pearl Jam, Radiohead, OutKast, and Alanis Morissette.
“Impressive,” I say, seeing he has a wide collection with a variety of classics.
Sometimes, I forget he’s eight years older than me, but that’s not a surprise, considering I’ve always dated older. Twenty-eight-year-oldmen are too immature. Most men my age don’t know what they want in life.
When I look up, I notice a Basquiat sketch near the kitchen that I almost missed. I gasp, knowing how rare these are. On the wall in the short hallway is a Cy Twombly, all scribbled loops and colorful energy. Near a window is a Paul Cézanne landscape that I don’t believe I’ve ever seen before. A Helen Frankenthaler print in soft pinks and oranges catches the light from the lamp that’s on in the corner. His taste and style areimpeccable. He’s collected a mix of masters and modern artists. That tells me he actually understands art and doesn’t purchase it for status like many. None of these pieces were chosen by a decorator. No, Louis picked these himself.
I’ve found my match.
I wander toward the fireplace, and for the first time, I notice the photos on the mantel in silver frames.
They’re candid shots of him with people he cares about. None of them are formal or staged. There’s one of Louis and Delphine when she was young, and he was in his mid-teens. Both are covered from head to toe in mud and grinning while a filthy golden retriever sits between them, looking happy. In the second photo, Louis is on a sailboat with a group of friends, his head thrown back mid-laugh while the sun catches his face. He’s younger here and lighter than I’ve ever seen him in a long time. As I scan for familiar faces in the photo, I see Patterson. I swallow hard and shake my head, knowing how much he won’t like this. The two of them arerealfriends.
The third photo makes me freeze. Louis and an older woman sit across from each other at a chessboard. It’s his grandmother, Queen Isabella II, in regular clothes. She’s elegant with silver hair and baby blues that match his exactly. She’s leaning in toward him with unmistakable pride. I can almost hear her coaching him, challenging him, refusing to let him win.
I set the frame down carefully and look around the room again.
Thisis who Louis really is, not the tabloid disaster they make him out to be.
And I’m falling for him.
The realization that I’m falling for the crown prince of Montclaire and that he’s falling for me, too, settles deep into my soul. Even if Iwanted to, there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it. Right now, together, we’re a runaway train.
I write Louis a quick little note and leave it for him on the counter.
I can never get enough …
A soft knock at the door makes me freeze. Louis wouldn’t knock at his own place, and no one else should know I’m here.
As I move quietly toward the entrance, my pulse races. Through the peephole, I see Delphine in that ridiculous hooded cloak she seems to love.
I crack the door open. “How did you know I was still here?”
“Because I know my brother, and there’s no way he’d let you walk back alone in the dark.” She slips inside and pushes the hood back. “We need to talk.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is.” She glances around the loft, taking in the evidence that I’ve made myself comfortable. “The council met today. Behind closed doors, no family present.”
“And?”
“I have a contact on staff. She told me they mentioned ‘the American situation’ and someone said you’d be ‘dealt with after the competition.’”
My mouth falls open. “Dealt with how?”
“I don’t know. But they’re watching, Addison. Someone has noticed, and they’re planning to remove you before you become a bigger problem.” She meets my eyes. “Be careful.”
“Does Louis know?”
“Not yet. He’s with our father right now, dealing with that blind-item mess.” She moves toward the door. “These people don’t play fair, and my mother can be ruthless.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
