Page 54 of Scarred Crown

“Excuse me,” I say to Vicky, sliding my hand along her upper arm as a condolence. “I have to rescue Jules, but we’ll talk later, yeah?”

Her shoulders slump, and she follows my gaze to where Alex and Jules are slow dancing. “You promise?” she asks.

“I promise I’ll find you later.” Right now, I’d say anything if it meant escaping this discussion and breaking up Jules and Alex.

Leaving Vicky, I weave through the crowd until I get to them. When she sees me, her cheeks glow pink, and I wonder how much champagne she’s already gotten into.

“May I cut in?” I tap Alex on the shoulder. He’s a couple inches shorter than me—another thing I’ve won that he’s got no control over.

“You may not.” Alex’s voice is sharp.

“Alex.” Jules admonishes him. “You can cut in, Nick. Alex is just being… Alex.” She shoots him a loaded glare.

He huffs out his annoyance and drops his hands from around her waist. “You owe me a dance later.”

“She owes you nothing.” Anger tinges my voice. The sooner he understands he and Jules will not be a thing, the better. He can’t bulldoze his way into her life like he does everything else. He’d have to have a personality transplant before she’d give him a chance.

I sweep her into my arms, her dress swirling around us, and I waltz us away from him as though he was never even there.

Once we’re in a rhythm, she relaxes against me, and a sigh escapes her. Exactly how I feel. All is right with the world when I’ve got Jules in my arms. My heart beats in time to the music, and I draw her a little closer.

After a few minutes, I twirl her around the room, and she laughs at my extravagant moves. Normally, I have to be conscious of making an ass of myself. Not tonight. Tonight, I can make her laugh and not worry the national papers will claim I’m drunk.

Drunk will happen later—it’s inevitable. Too much unattended alcohol for me to resist. But for now, I’m soaking up Jules’s company, her undivided attention.

A few times, I catch Alex watching us, and when I can’t take his undisguised desire anymore, I lead Jules out of the ballroom by the hand, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the side table at the exit.

“Where are we going?” Jules laughs.

“Barn.” I glance at her over my shoulder. “Fireworks should be starting soon. Perfect spot to watch.”

“I won’t argue with that.” She wraps her free hand around my upper arm and leans into me.

I savor the feel of her pressed against me, and when we get to the barn, I gather our hidden stash of blankets, making our viewing area as comfortable as possible.

“You’ve really got this down to a science.” Jules teases. “Have you memorized the layout of the blankets?”

“You’ll thank me when your ass isn’t sore later.”

“If we drink that whole bottle of champagne, I’m not likely to remember I have an ass let alone worry about it being sore.”

I, on the other hand, am unlikely to forget what’s residing under her long dress. I rub my temples, and then I pop the champagne and chug from the bottle.

“What happened to ladies first?” She laughs.

“I didn’t have to pack my manners tonight,” I say with a grin. “Sorry about your luck.”

She settles onto the blanket and then holds her hand up for the bottle. I pass it to her before taking my seat beside her. Tipping back the bubbly, she takes a gulp and then passes it to me. I swig from the bottle and stare out into the darkness. Part of me wants to bring up Alex’s obvious crush on her, but the other part of me doesn’t want to draw any more attention to him than is absolutely necessary. She hasn’t noticed, and I’d rather she ignored him.

“Last year of high school starts next week,” Jules says, scanning the starry sky. “What clubs are you picking?”

“Debate. War Child. Island sustainability. You?”

“Debate for sure,” Jules says and then taps her chin. “MUN, and I might do War Child, too, if I can fit it in. I know we’re not going to get to do our project together, but War Child does good work, doesn’t it?”

“They do,” I say, and then we’re off on a tangent about humanitarian work and aid in different countries while we get thoroughly drunk on champagne. Much of what Jules knows comes from spending so much time in the royal household and chatter around her own dinner table, but I get a lot of joy in planning fictitious future scenarios that have us at the forefront of charitable work around the world. The one piece of being a prince that I don’t mind is my ability to do good.

Jules drains the last of the champagne just as the first firework lights up the sky. She leans across me to put the empty bottle beside my hip where the blankets stop. At the close contact, I suck in a sharp breath, and she raises her startled, drunk gaze to mine while still draped across me.