The reporters surge. The security line stumbles. Thehalf-open doors give way to a wall of shouted questions and the metallicclack-clack-clackof high-speed shutters.
Theo’s composure snaps. He lunges toward his father, shouting something lost in the din, but Harris’ security team is already moving, shoving Theo back with brutal force.
“Kaori, move!” Leon’s voice cracks like a whip. He grabs my arm and throws me behind him as a sea of bodies presses in.
“Princess Kaori, why were you working here?”
“Is there a scandal within Excelsior Parks?”
“How long have you and Theodore Riverton been in a relationship?”
“Back up,” Leon shouts, shielding me with his body as best he can. “You have no right to be here.”
No one listens. The crowd tightens. Someone yanks at my bag. A microphone skims my shoulder.
“Minami-sama!” Yamada-san and Sato-san cut through the crowd, shoving bodies aside and reaching for me.
“They’re with you?” Leon yells over the roar.
“Yes. My protection team.”
“Talk about good timing.”
They close in instantly, forming a solid wall around me. Like an American football formation, the three men move as one—absorbing the impact, forcing a path forward. They hustle me outside and into a dark sedan double-parked at the curb, the rear door already open.
Leon squeezes my hand. “See you soon.”
“Take care of Theo,” I say as the door slams shut.
He doesn’t answer. The car peels into traffic before my seat belt is even clicked. My pulse is racing a million miles a minute. “Please, can you take me to the hotel?”
Yamada-san shakes his head. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry, but we have orders to take you somewhere more secure.”
“From who?”
Sato-san looks at me in the rearview mirror. “The emperor.”
I glance back at the Excelsior Parks HQ just as we turn the corner. The glass facade shrinks behind us. My heart aches with a single, sharp truth—Theo needed me and I couldn’t stay.
Twenty-One
The car speeds down Whitehall, weaving in and out of traffic. The cameras and shouting are far behind us. Inside the car, it’s just silence.
My fingers tremble as I pull my phone from my bag. I tap Theo’s name. I need to know he’s okay. I wasn’t there when the world collapsed on him. You don’t leave the person you love like that. Not when they’re hurting, and certainly not when they’re angry enough to never want to see you again.
The call rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth, it cuts straight to the clinical tone of his voicemail.
“Come on, Theo,” I mutter, pressing the phone to my ear as if I could force him to hear me. “Please. Just pick up. You can shout at me, you can tell me to go to hell. Any answer is better than this.”
I hang up and immediately redial. Same result.
Fine. Time for plan B. I open our text chain. My fingers hover for a moment before typing.
Kaori
Please let me know you’re okay.
I send it, then immediately start typing again.
