“It’s not your fault. Obviously.” I shake my head. “I mean, everyone probably has had a bad breakup in their life once or twice. I suppose, though, it doesn’t always make the tabloids.”
“Usually not.” His eyebrows lift slightly.
“It’s a little extreme,” I say as mildly as I can, shrugging a shoulder. I work on my drink, and then a terrible thought occurs to me. It’s not like Stefanos lives under a rock without the internet. “You didn’t read or watch Aidan’s interviews, did you?”
It’s Stefanos’ turn to look caught out, a flush of pink over his cheeks. “I…”
Then my face warms. Of course he did. The whole world’s seen Aidan’s interviews, it feels like. Aidan’s latest article dropped a couple of days after my night out—which was supposed to be our anniversary celebration—when I met Stefanos. In the latest article, Aidan goes off about me having a secret affair with Prince Stefanos of Greece. Another pack of lies. I read the story on my flight to Athens, as if the algorithm knew my destination, and wanted to offer something in return. It’s seared into my memory. My face burns.
Prince Theodor’s Torrid Affair
Spotted in London: The Danish prince can’t keep his hands off his secret lover, Prince Stefanos of Greece. Caught nose to nose on the club floor, Prince Theodor’s beau Aidan Fitzwilliam is nowhere in sight. “Callous behavior,” Fitzwilliam remarked later. Photograph from The Club, Mayfair.
I quash the memory. Quickly, I look down at my drink. Something cuts inside. At last, I clear my throat to speak. “Right.”
That’s it, then. My call back to reality despite a flight away from my London-based problems and abruptly stopping any daydreams about Stefanos I may have had, something I don’t really want to admit even to myself. And worse, making me think about Aidan’s betrayal again. He’s already taken up too much space in my mind. Totally uncalled for to throw Stefanos under the bus for something he didn’t do. He’s only had the misfortune of being in my orbit.
“It’s not all true, what Aidan said,” I blurt out. “I mean?—”
“Of course it’s not true,” Stefanos says just as quickly as we both stumble over our mutual embarrassment. “I mean, for starters, we’re certainly not having an affair.”
“Absolutely not.” My tone’s emphatic. “I’ve had no affairs of any kind, let’s be clear. But Aidan sold me out and then some.” I can’t keep from sounding bitter. Swirling my drink, the liquid moves around the glass, my finger tracing the condensation. “He should have gone for a creative writing degree or maybe improv because he made up a lot of stuff on the spot.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
Struggling, I glance up at him. So much for suave. Time to quash that outburst. I shake my head. “No.”
“What about work? What do you do?” Stefanos asks gamely.
My lips tighten, and I clear my throat. This is definitely not the time to talk about Freja bailing and me possibly becoming King either. Best stick to safer waters. My stomach twists. “I’m, er, a creative consultant.”
Stefanos blinks, uncertain. He tries valiantly, judging by his expression, but lands on confusion, like most people do. “A creative consultant?”
“Mm.” I sip my drink, feeling unexpectedly melancholy. Along with a side helping of imposter syndrome. Silly me. I forgot that creative consultant often results in blank stares. Unlike accountancy or medicine, the explanation doesn’t necessarily cast more light. “I help people plan aesthetics and branding for events, ad campaigns, even homes, that sort of thing.”
Judging by Stefanos’ expression, I’ve lost him. “It’s kind of like interior decorating but for marketing.”
“Oh.”
Shit, Theo. Way to blow it in moments.
“And how does being in Athens help?” Stefanos asks at last. “With being a creative consultant?”
My mouth opens before my brain has an opportunity to catch up. “I’m not sure yet.”
Stefanos laughs, but it’s not a mean laugh or a dismissive laugh like I would occasionally get from Aidan. “Well, it sounds interesting.”
I groan. “Yeah. Interesting enough, I guess. At least to me. Well, I was planning to check out some galleries, some shops, walk around, that sort of thing. See where inspiration strikes.”
“You should definitely go to the Acropolis and visit the Parthenon. There’s lots of inspiration. Have you been?” His eyes are very blue as he gazes at me, even in the low bar light.
“I have not been,” I confirm, holding his gaze, and I shiver.
“Maybe tomorrow, I can show you?”
Something comes to life again in my chest. He mustn’t hate me after Aidan’s exposé. Which, to be fair, Stefanos probably wouldn’t be out with me having a drink if he hated me. My face relaxes at last into a genuine smile. “Sounds great.”
His gaze is intent on mine, and I’m the first to look away, down at my drink. Everything’s too loud, too much in this exclusive bar. It’s gorgeous and dramatic and moody. Ordinarily, I’d be totally into it. Yet I feel totally vulnerable and not in a good way right now in front of Stefanos.
