Page 32 of Heavy Crown

Nick grins. “Missed a few of the vital strands, I’ve noticed.”

Where that might normally sting, his comment causes an answering smile in me. Perhaps all isn’t lost between us. “You’ll see,” I say. “No one has anything to worry about. Emotion won’t rule me.”

fourteen

Rory

The next morning I wake up with a dull headache but otherwise more refreshed than I’ve been since I arrived in Bellerive almost a year ago. There is nowhere to rush off to, no one calling me to work, and no boyfriend poking me in the ass with an erection asking me to “take care of it” before getting out of bed.

We fell so far from my vision of our life on the island so fast. When I agreed to move here, we were in love. I would have followed him anywhere, but Bellerive, a gorgeous island paradise, was a bonus. Imagining what it would be like to live here and being here turned out to be in opposition.

In my mind, we were lying on beaches, taking moonlight walks through Tucker’s Town, eating fancy dinners on balconies overlooking the ocean—work was secondary.

In reality, working for his parents stole every spare second of our lives, and we only had a “beach day” three times in the last year. While the picture I painted before we arrived was naïve, the reality wasn’t balanced either. Over the last few weeks, I became more disgruntled with our lack of freedom, but I don’t know if I would have done anything about it.

Go home to my parents and eat crow? Confront Derrick and his parents about the unfair expectations? Neither response is me. Would anything have broken the Bellerive monotony if I hadn’t found Dumbass Derrick with Janessa? There’s no comfort in the realization I might have carried on, a sharp edge of unhappiness surrounding my life, forever.

After I’ve buttered a scone for breakfast, I peek at my phone on the counter. Alex left last night, and I resisted turning it on even though it was fully charged. My mother hasn’t called, but she left me a text message saying she’s glad I’m all right and to call if I need anything from her. Nothing from my father, and she doesn’t mention him either. His grudges are epic.

My parents caught the accident on their local TV station. Alex’s involvement has made my escape from the brink of death international news. There are other messages from friends and family, but it’s Derrick’s that catches my eye. Rather than saying sorry and begging for forgiveness, he says he’ll see me after lunch. After lunch? If I’m getting my things from the apartment, I’d rather he wasn’t there. At this point, I never want to see him again. There’s a hard ball of anger sitting in the pit of my stomach.

Frowning, I click on the reply as there’s a knock on my door. My heart kicks. I cross to the door and throw it open without checking the peephole, somewhat expecting Alex on the other side. A silly, useless hope.

Instead, it’s Desmond and his clipboard. “Prince Alexander asked me to give you the itinerary for today.”

“I have an itinerary?” I frown and take a bite of my scone. “I guess you should come in then so I can hear what this is about?”

Desmond follows me into the cottage and then seems at a loss about where to set his clipboard or where to sit. The couch in front of the gas fireplace is probably too far away, as is the two-person table by the window. My bed would be out of the question, and there are no stools at the island. After a quick scan of the space, he sets his clipboard on the island with a small sigh.

“The Crown requires you to stay at the McGuinty apartment today until we’re able to escort you out a rear exit with your things. Given the interest in the car accident, your rescue, and the rather unfortunate trip to the grocery story yesterday, the Crown would prefer the press doesn’t realize you’re living here now.”

I scoop a glop of butter off the dish in front of me and apply it to the last bit of scone. It’s going to be an excessive-use-of-butter kind of day. “Would you like a scone? They’re the best you’ll ever have.”

Desmond narrows his gaze at the container beside me. “Clotted cream and jam?”

“Of course.” I grin and take everything out of the fridge. Good food can thaw even the hardest hearts. While I would never say anything to anyone again, Desmond still doesn’t seem pleased to be here. Not hostile, more resigned. I dress his scone while I consider the implications of the Crown’s request. Saying ‘no’ isn’t an option, especially if Alex is asking me to help cool the gossipy fire. If I can put out the deluge of press speculation, I will.

When I pass him the scone, he removes his hands from his clipboard and pen to draw the first half toward his mouth. “Any questions?”

“What do I say to the press?” I ask.

“No comment. Derrick has also been advised not to comment.”

Other than the article I read yesterday, I haven’t checked social media or other newspapers. “Do they—” I take a deep breath. “Does the press know about Janessa?”

“Yes,” Desmond says, and when his gaze meets mine while he chews, there’s a hint of sympathy in his dark eyes. “The Crown provided those details to give some context for why Prince Alexander has been protective of you.”

I take a sip of my tea and try to digest my humiliation being put on broadcast to keep Alex’s reputation intact. “Being attached to me in any romantic way is really that bad?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. It’s not that I want to be linked to him romantically, but we’re not getting married or anything. We went to the grocery store. Have all his public affairs bothered him this much?

“Right now? Yes.” There’s no room for argument or debate in Desmond’s emphatic response. “The timing could not be worse.”

“King George’s illness, the referendum, the coronation… I guess there’s a lot going on,” I say.

“Hmm.” Desmond takes another bite of scone. “This might be the best cream tea I’ve ever had. I was skeptical when Prince Alexander suggested you’d be a perfect fit as a pastry chef here, but I’m eating the proof of his theory.”

I grin at the compliment. Much like Alex, I doubt he gives them out often. “Thank you. So, what time am I to run the gauntlet today?”

A hint of a smile tugs at Desmond’s lips. “Derrick will be at the apartment at one to help escort you in. Kane will be with you, but we’d prefer he doesn’t enter the building. He will circle around the back to collect you and your things approximately one hour later.”