“Don’t let me stop you,” an unfamiliar voice replies out of nowhere, startling me.
I scream, sit up, and nearly choke on my own breath.
Standing in front of me, in basketball shorts and no shirt, is Prince Henry.
CHAPTER7
Thanks to a healthy dose of internet stalking, I know that the sweaty, half-naked boy in front of me is Theo’s younger brother, Henry. If I hadn’t seen pictures of him with Theo, I wouldn’t have guessed that they’re related, thanks to Henry’s dark curly hair, dark eyes, and the dimple on his right cheek. I can’t see the dimple now, though, because he’s frowning at me, his bare skin glistening as he uses a balled-up shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.
“This is the moment where you tell me who you are and beg me not to call security,” he says.
I’m surprised by his threat, because Theo wouldnever.“I’m Wren.”
He stares at me blankly, which is the soul-crushing moment I realize Theo hasn’t told his brother anything about me.
“Go ahead and call Winston if you have to,” I say defensively.
Henry’s dark eyes flash at my casual mention of Theo’s bodyguard. “Does my brother know that you’re here?”
I bristle at the question. “He’s the one who brought me here.”
Henry blinks at me wordlessly before checking his phone. He turns his back to make a call and lets out a frustrated grunt when no one picks up. “I’m not trying to be rude, but Theo couldn’t be arsed to tell me that he’d be having visitors.”
I hold my hands up. “I’m kind of a surprise.”
Henry snorts with laughter. Theo didn’t talk much about his brother, except to say that Henry would make a better monarch, but I know the basics from the internet. Henry Alexander Philip James is eighteen years old. His birthday is in January, he goes to school in Scotland, and he’s allergic to shellfish. He’s not depressed. (As far as I know.) He’s cute. (It runs in the family.) And he’s just some guy. (As in, nothing about him screamsshould-have-been-king.)
Henry pushes his curls out of his eyes. “So,whyare you here?”
I’m tempted to explain the situation with the paparazzi before I remember that Theo said we needed to get our story straight. I shrug. “You’ll have to ask the King.”
“Are you the girl from the train-station video?” He narrows his eyes at my orange hair with suspicion, and it seems like a good time to change the subject.
“I didn’t see you at the park this morning.”
He rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t have, as I was uninvited.”
“Why?”
“You’ll have to ask the King,” he says with a wink, clearly pleased with himself. I’m struggling with how to respond when the door bangs open.
Comet barges in first, turns three circles on the rug in front of the fireplace, and then flops down on his belly. Victoria is next, and she stops short when she sees me. She has a small frame and hair that looks dark blond or light brown, depending on the light.
Her eyes narrow at the sight of me. “You’re the girl in the pictures.”
“Guilty,” I say.
“What pictures?” Henry asks.
Theo enters the suite behind her, his expression stormy. “I tried to kill the story, but they didn’t even give us a chance.”
“Are we surprised?” Victoria’s low voice drips with sarcasm.
Theo surveys his sister with a furrowed brow. “Did you get out of the park okay? Did the paps follow you? Do you need to eat?”
“What pictures?” Henry asks again as he crosses the room to join his siblings.
Victoria waves away Theo’s concern and addresses Henry instead. “I’ll show you.” She stretches out on the rug, her head resting on Comet’s belly; Henry and Theo crowd around her phone.
