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‘Why, Alex, have I worn you out?’

‘Yes.’ He ached in the best possible way. ‘You slept for hours earlier. I worked.’

‘Poor Princeling.’ Her chuckle was pure triumph. ‘The wicked never get to rest.’

He tightened his hold and rolled, suddenly energised to ignore the view of anything but her. Only a loud buzz shattered the moment.

Tilly startled. ‘What—?’

‘Erik. He wouldn’t call at this time unless…’ Alex grabbed his phone. ‘Yes?’

‘Sorry to interrupt so late.’ His brother’s grim tone shot adrenaline straight into Alex’s brain. ‘But there’s something you need to see.’

Chapter Twelve

‘What is it?’

‘Another AI video of Tilly.’

‘With me?’ Alex kept his eyes on her as she scrambled out of bed and pulled her phone from the pocket of her dress he’d hung over the chair. Her screen was littered with notifications.

‘No.’ Erik growled. ‘On her own this time. I’ve already been in touch with Cristian.’

Rage choked him. ‘Tell him to sue every platform. Whatever it takes.’

Staring at her phone, Tilly had turned white.

‘Don’t look at it.’ He gripped her shoulders. ‘It’s just a stupid video.’

‘What?’ She glanced up and he saw shock bloom in her wide eyes. ‘What video?’

‘What are you looking at?’ His chest tightened.

‘Messages from your father.’

He froze.

‘Look.’ She handed him her phone. ‘I’m sorry.’

He scanned the screeds of text on screen. Domenico warning that she was bringing too much attention to the Crown. That only he could protect her from the online storm. That if this kept up, the truth about her mother might come out and irreparably tarnish Tilly further. Which Alex took as a veiled threat. Endless manipulative entreaties—instructing her to admit her marriage to Alex was a fake mistake, to come back to the palace before it was too late.

Alex reeled. Why was Domenico so damned insistent?

‘I don’t get why he’s so desperate—I’m nothing to him.’ Tilly’s brow furrowed. ‘Is there another video?’

Alex frowned at the time when his father had begun messaging. Tilly’s phone had been on mute so there’d been no notification sound. Then he looked at when that second video had appeared online.

He phoned Tino, his analyst. ‘Get a tech team together. Investigate when and where the new video began circulating. As much detail as possible as quickly as possible.’

‘Why are you getting them to do that?’ She pulled on one of his tee-shirts and perched on the edge of the bed.

His mouth gummed. ‘I’m just…not sure.’

He didn’t want to articulate the suspicion in his head. His father wasn’t tech-savvy yet he’d seen this video quickly and promptly written a thesis of reasons for Tilly to return. Maybe the palace team were monitoring online activity and keeping him updated, or maybe there was a more sinister explanation as to why Domenico had been so quick off the mark. Alex wouldn’t put anything past his father. But why did Tilly’s return matter so much to the man?

‘I’ve caused more problems between you and him. I’m sorry, Alex.’

‘Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.’ He handed her phone back to her. ‘Our real problems began long, long ago.’ He huffed a breath as fury pulsed. The ricochet between sexual fulfilment—the joy of Tilly—and this dragging horror was intense. He hated the deliberate dehumanisation, the cruel humiliation of her. Hated his powerlessness. He’d worked so damned hard never to feel powerless again but now there was this—an invisible threat vibrating through the air. Threats like this eroded everything.