Page 33 of Heavy Crown

“You want it to look like Kane’s not staying.”

“The more distance between you and Prince Alexander, the better.” He meets my gaze. “For both of you.”

The message is clear. Alex and I won’t be a thing—in public or in private. Maybe Alex couldn’t bring himself to be this direct last night, but he made it clear the public’s impression of our burgeoning friendship matters. Makes sense that the Crown’s impression would be important too.

On one hand, these warnings are an overreaction. I met him two days ago, and I have all my things in the apartment I shared with my sort-of boyfriend. While Derrick and I are definitely not getting back together, we haven’t officially broken up either. Although I’m dreading seeing him today, clearing the air might be good for both of us. A clean break.

“I appreciate you might have been hoping for a different outcome with Prince Alexander—”

“Me?” I laugh. “Oh, no. I don’t have any illusions about dating the prince. Trust me. My life—and even if it wasn’t—his life is...” The gibberish falls out unattached to my brain, but even as I ramble, a tiny part of me deflates.

On the other hand, there’s something about Alex that draws me in, and it doesn’t have anything to do with him being a prince.

But I’m feeling better today. Sore, but not so fuzzy. So perhaps the next time I see him, he won’t inspire an intense familiarity I can’t shrug off. He’ll be Prince Alexander, a man I don’t know at all.

Kane catches my gaze in the rearview mirror as we turn onto Ocean Front Drive, where the apartment I share with Derrick is located. It’s a narrow street, and one of the first to be established in Bellerive when the island became inhabited hundreds of years ago.

“I’m going to pull up to the door in the emergency services parking. I’ll get out and escort you to the glass doors of the building. Derrick will be inside the doors, and he’ll take you from there.”

“Are you really expecting a crowd?” I try to peer out of the windshield.

“Yes.” Kane’s voice is tight. “Remember you’re not to comment.”

“Easy enough. Keep my mouth shut.” What would I want to say anyway? Alex has been kind and helpful. Derrick is a dumbass. If the press realize he cheated on me, the majority of my questions are likely to be about him, right?

We draw closer to the apartment building, and anxiety creeps up my throat. The front door isn’t visible with the scrum of reporters, cameras, and spectators milling around.

“Take a deep breath,” Kane says as he throws the vehicle into park and comes to my rear door. He opens it and helps me out. His body bends around mine, shielding me from the onslaught of camera clicks, questions, and people shouting my name. The question that keeps coming up over and over again is whether I’ve left Derrick to be with Prince Alexander.

That’s the press narrative? After one trip to the grocery store? Seems Alex wasn’t exaggerating.

When I reach the front door, Derrick pops out. Kane backs off, and Derrick slings his arm over my shoulders, tucking me into his side. It’s a move he made hundreds of times during our relationship, and seeking his comfort is an instinct I forget to curb in the chaos. He’s the only familiar person on the island, and I curve into him. There are so many people shouting at us, taking photos, and trying to get a comment that it’s overwhelming. How do celebrities do this all the time? How is this their real life?

Kane is gone, and the crowd closes in around us. Instead of going in, Derrick’s arm slides down my back so his hand rests on my hip before traveling to my ass in a possessive gesture he hasn’t used since college. I glance up at him, surprised. He gazes down at me, and I realize he’s not going to take the Crown’s advice—or directive—to heart.

“Derrick, are you and Aurora still together?”

“We are. We’re working through our issues,” Derrick says. “I’ve let her down—in a big way—but I intend to make it up to her.”

Did I hear him correctly? He’s telling people we’re still together. What happened to no comment?

“What about the employment code violation the Advisory Council has lodged against your family?”

“A misunderstanding. The McGuintys work hard, and we expect our employees to work hard, but we’re fair. Rory has a concussion, and I’m sure, in her confusion, she misspoke.”

I try to draw away from him, but his grip on me tightens.

“She’s had a stressful few days, and we’d really appreciate some space.”

Instead of everyone backing off, they inch forward, microphones thrust into my face, and a barrage of questions fly at me.

“Rory, are you and Prince Alexander more than friends?”

“Are you hoping to date him?”

“Had you met the prince before the other night?”

“Where have you been since you left the hospital?”