Kudos, Eva.
A hush falls across the square. Heads tilt up and phones rise.
The balcony doors swing open.
Reigning Prince Richard steps out with others behind him. There’s no microphone or loudspeaker, just raw joy lighting his face.
“She’s awake!” he cries out.
The square erupts. Everyone’s cheering, whistling, clapping, and hugging. Many tear up and some sob, while others praise God.
“Princess Felicia has regained consciousness!” Prince Richard calls out again. “She recognized her family members! Her doctors say she is stable and out of danger!”
The roar that follows could flatten mountains. I feel happy, too. Still, the voice of reason that never quite shuts up in my head wonders why they didn’t hold the announcement until after the sniper was caught.
Could it be to bait him?
Nah, they wouldn’t take such reckless risks. The most logical explanation is that they either have him or are so close to catching him that it doesn’t matter anymore.
Eva looks at me, her eyes glassy with emotion. “She’s alive!”
“She is.”
She stares up at the balcony again, her body relaxing. If I were a less rational man, I might think she was leaning into my embrace. But I know that’s not true. She just let her guard down, overwhelmed by joy at Prince Richard’s announcement.
The pressure of the crowd eases. I release Eva slowly, careful not to draw attention to the fact that my lower body still hasn’t gotten the memo that we’re in public.
The square continues to cheer.
Eva pulls out her phone, eyes bright. “I’m texting Millie. She’s been so worried about Princess Felicia! I want to be the first to tell her the good news.”
I watch her delicate fingers dance across her phone’s screen. Two equally powerful urges battle in my mind. One urges me to spin around and walk away without looking back. The other wants me to step toward Eva when she’s finished, take her back into my arms, and kiss her senseless.
7
EVA
It’s past midnight, and I’m still awake. Not just awake, but wide-eyed, restless, and wired like a cat on a hot tin roof.
I toss the covers off. The satiny bedding feels like sandpaper against my skin—mynakedskin—because I don’t have pajamas. I wasn’t supposed to stay the night in Pombrio, but the lockdown is still in effect, so here I am.
I roll to my side. Then to my stomach. Then flat on my back again, arms sprawled across the mattress like a victim in a crime scene from a B movie. I stare at the ceiling and grimace with exasperation.
Scenes from earlier today flash through my mind.Again.
The crowd squeezing us. The sharp elbow in my side.
Alex moving behind me, solid and protective.
Alex encasing me in his arms.
His body pressing into mine.
His cock prodding the small of my back.Hard. Big.
A flush rolls through my entire body.
“Ugh,” I mutter, dragging a pillow over my face.
