knocking me over in the process. “You are loathsome. I will never approve of you with my son, ever.”
“Your Majesty. If you ever want to start over and get to know me, to truly try to see me as anything other than a threat, I will welcome the conversation. But the ball is in your court.”
“Don’t expect me to serve,” she says bitterly. “We shall never speak of this again.”
“I won’t. As long as you don’t bully any other woman, it stays here. But if you leak one more story, if you say one, single, nasty, belittling thing to anyone I care about, my family or yours, I will attack. I’m like Xander in that way. I’m fierce in protecting those I care about. And I will do it.”
She storms out of the room, slamming the front door behind her as she leaves.
I go back to the sofa and sink down. I’m a mess of emotions, from relief that her reign of terror is over to sadness for Xander, as no matter what he says, this is still his mother, and her betrayal and determination to hurt so many people is a hard thing to live with.
I exhale. But I’m also proud of myself. I stood up not just for me but for his entire family. I’ve done something none of them have done, and a new beginning is starting for the whole House of Chadwick as a result.
I reach for my tea and take a sip. I see a future of the squad working together. Of me teaching others the joy of baking and making a difference in their lives. Tears prick my eyes when I think of how Xander has gone to bat for me, from being willing to do an unconventional interview when the standard procedure is “Kensington Palace has no comment on the Prince of Wales’s private life” to going to King Arthur to assure a role for me.
I have never been loved so fiercely in my life.
This man would do anything for me, even at a cost to himself.
I will do the same for you, Xander Wales, I think. I promise you that.
And the future now looks very bright indeed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Chinese Dining Room
I’m quiet as Xander pulls his car into the car park, reflecting on the past few days.
I thought the week I met Xander was the craziest week of my life.
I was so naïve.
Because this week, by far, has been one surreal experience after another. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m living someone else’s life, because it couldn’t possibly be mine.
When I went back to my flat on Tuesday night, I was ambushed by paparazzi. It was scary, all of these photographers shouting at me, the lights so blinding I could barely see where I was going. My God, it seemed like there were hundreds of them, all desperate for a picture of me. Luckily, Liz had prepared me as to which ones were “squad friendly” and which weren’t, so I knew which ones would continually harass me and try to elicit a response.
Xander told me that taking public transport would be a nightmare for work, so he gave me one of his cars to use. A car. I tried to refuse it at first, but finally relented to the Range Rover he insisted I use to get myself around London. Of course, paparazzi followed me in that and discovered the commercial kitchen, and Priya had great fun going in and out of the building and feeling like a celebrity when they began shouting questions at her. Well, for a split second, until she had to acknowledge the questions were about me. I smile.
God, Priya is such a normal balance for me right now, and she always makes me laugh. When I came into the kitchen jittery about the drive and the paparazzi, she got me a cup of coffee and a massive coconut Chelsea bun. She insisted I tuck into pastry goodness, forget the world, and she would get the crew started for the day while I centred myself.
We will be thick as thieves by the time the wedding is here, I know it.
Then there was the interview.
To say the courtiers at Kensington Palace and Buckingham Palace were furious about it was an understatement. We shouldn’t do this so soon, they told us. The palace never even comments on royal romances, they advised. Why on earth would we want to tell the press anything about us? It would kill the mystique, they