“Your prince commands you to get the fuck out of the room. Now.”
A flurry of anxiety hits my chest as he gives the command. The guards hesitate before nodding stiffly and walking down the hall. Liam sighs heavily, turning toward me with eyes that seem to accuse me of something.
“You’re in trouble.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”
“The king wanted to investigate the incident. So he sent people to go through your things where you were staying.”
Oh God.
I double- and triple-checked my bags for anything that would give me away. Hell, my passport is Canadian. There’s nothing—nothing they could possibly find.
“They found this.”
He digs in his pocket and unwraps his palm, revealing a crumpled, empty bag of peanuts.
“Made in Sacramento, California,” he says, reading the label on the back. “Funny. I would’ve never pegged you for a California girl.”
“I’m not American!”
“Says the obviously American American.”
“That’s—crazy! A bag of peanuts? That could’ve come from anywhere!”
He lifts an eyebrow. “It came from Sacramento and it was in your bag. I mean that camera hanging around your neck was already a dead giveaway. Only Americans do that.”
Don’t say anything. Don’t confess.
“I—I want my lawyer!”
His face cracks with a sort of pitying smile. “Only an American would say that, love.”
“Well, I get a phone call, right?”
He sighs. “Maybe I should get you an apple pie and a bald eagle with a hot dog in its beak as well.”
Words like high-risk and hostile keep popping up in my head like the monstrous red flags they are. This can’t be happening.
The prince’s stony face softens slightly. “Relax. You’ll probably just get banned from the country. My father probably won’t want to piss off the Yanks. I’m just sad it’ll cut our fun short.”
Banned? “I’m not American,” I cry, my voice breaking. “I swear! Please don’t send me away!”
“It’s out of my hands, unfortunately. It’s really too bad, because I can think of a number of fun punishments I’d like to subject you to.”
“Will you please stop!”
Laughing, he offers me his hand. I take it without thinking, my breath hitching in my chest when Liam pulls me upright. My body launches forward, and suddenly I’m flat against his broad chest and holy crap, there’s a lot of muscle underneath his preppy clothes. Prince Liam’s arms are firm around my waist and back. His solid body against mine is like a catalyst—or an explosion. A glow of heat passing through my body spreads warmth through my skin. I feel it everywhere. Hell, I feel it between my legs, pulsing.
“Kiss me.”
I want to. His hand at my waist squeezes, and suddenly a flood of memories slams into my head with so much force that I feel vertigo. His lips tug into a smile, and I want to lean forward, but the crushing weight prevents me.
“No.”
A low growl issues from the back of his throat, but he pulls back. “Think of me when you’re fingering yourself later.”
I might. “I will not.”
His eyes roll. “All right. Come with me, then.”
“Wait—where?”
“The throne room. My father is waiting there to spank you.”
I’ve never been in trouble my whole goddamn life. It figures that the moment I decide to bend the rules a little, I get caught. In less than twenty-four hours. I’m trembling from head to foot. “Disappointed as fuck” doesn’t really begin to describe my emotions. The prince suspected I was American the moment he met me. It really burns the ego.
It’s not over. All they have is circumstantial evidence.
Liam throws me pitying looks as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, although he might just be bummed that he won’t get to fuck me. Damn him. He’s the reason this whole thing fell apart. I scrimped and saved for months to make this trip, and it’s all over because the Dirty Prince couldn’t keep his filth to himself.
My newly blazing rage banks down to a small fire as Prince Liam’s entourage leads me across the courtyard through another set of doors to the giant tower. I’m constantly struck by the modern touches: a satellite dish, the cars lining up in the courtyard, the guards, dressed in business suits, and a gift shop. I can just imagine myself taking a tour here and sending a postcard to my classmates at UC Berkeley: Greetings from Harronvale Castle!
Jesus, will you focus?
The prince returns to my side as the guards open a heavy set of doors to the castle’s keep,