now. That’s right out of her playbook. None of us had our money on you,” he added, looking me over with disgust. “I gotta give you credit, mama. You got yourself a whale.”
“Fuck you,” I snapped.
“No, thank you. I don’t do sloppy seconds. It’s bad enough to have had the sloppy firsts.”
I shuddered. Just the thought of his hands on me made my skin crawl. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
“Are you kidding? You’re the biggest story in the news right now. Some fat, ugly nobody manages to seduce one of the most eligible bachelors and wind up with a wedding ring and a baby? Forget Auggie’s book. That’s the book you need to write. The Idiot’s Guide to Trapping a Prince. A bestseller, I’m sure. So, what was it? Wine? Hard liquor? Some of that magic cannabis you carry in your pocket? How in the world did you convince him to get in bed with the likes of you? Did he even know he was fucking you? Or did you just roll over him and get lucky it got in the right spot?”
With both my hands I pushed him from the door with all my might, sending him backwards, slamming him against the other wall until he crumbled on the floor. “Careful, honey. You don’t have diplomatic immunity.”
“Yet,” I hissed, flashing my ring.
He ambled to his feet. “You really think he’s going to go through with it? How dumb are you? He’s probably just playing the game to fuck with his grandma before her big celebration. He’s the Duke of Mayhem, remember? You can’t possibly think someone like him wants someone like you. This is the real world, honey. And that doesn’t make any sense.”
I tilted my chin. “It makes perfect goddamned sense,” I told him. “I’m Peaches McPhee, for fuck’s sake.”
With that I slammed the door between us, bolting every single lock.
The encounter had taken it out of me, though, as my knees tried to buckle as I retreated into the room. I wilted into a chair and called Sean.
“Christopher Tyler was waiting outside my door.”
“Aye,” he said. “You need me to take out the trash, then?”
“With haste,” I mumbled.
So what if I had to have an armed guard at my door for the rest of the tour? If I never had to look into Christopher’s smug, repulsive face again, it would be worth it.
In a show of defiance, I posted a photo on my socials, with just my left hand covering my baby bump. “Fairy tales do come true,” I stated simply.
Within two minutes, Christopher ‘liked’ the photo. I was so frustrated I threw my phone across the room. Maybe we should move to Aldayne.
I was starting to suspect Mercy Island would be the only place safe from my worst mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After the Hawaii shows, it was time for the international leg of the tour. If I thought the American dates were a whirlwind, it was nothing compared to Europe. We landed in Barcelona July 1st and spent the rest of the month doing shows in Rome, Amsterdam and Edinburgh. I relied on Auggie to show us anything worth seeing during our brief stops in these historic places. We got to see Estadi Olimpic Lluis Companys, just like Dallas requested.
“Didn’t she want a winter stadium?” he had asked.
“We play the hand we’re given,” I explained. “Anything related to the Olympics is a winner for Dallas.”
“She’s kind of quiet, isn’t she?”
I shrugged. “She’s focused. But there’s no one more driven than her. Except maybe Archer.”
Auggie made sure we took lots of pictures and bought even more souvenirs.
We recreated scenes from Roman Holiday in black and white photos that we shared with the world.
I went all in and got a pixie haircut just for the occasion.
Since Wandermere was a sister city to Amsterdam, we got the royal treatment. A personal host showed us Rijksmuseum and a personal tour of the Anne Frank House, which was emotionally devastating to visit in person. The entire group was overcome, particularly the Jewish dancers who could trace their ancestors back to Nazi Germany.
Aldayne had stepped in to accept refugees escaping from the Holocaust, but many who found freedom and sanctuary in Aldayne lost many more along the way.
We also were treated to a tour of the Van Gogh Museum, which was also difficult to tour, knowing the tragic history of the troubled artist. When Auggie caught me crying, I tried to wave it away. “I think of those awful last moments,” I sniffed.