never even left the United Kingdom, and simply living in London is very exciting for me.
We’re opposites in so many ways, from our pasts to our present.
Yet, as I sit with him, discovering him, I don’t feel it’s a detriment.
In fact, I find it utterly fascinating.
“Poppy? Wine?” Xander prods again.
I snap back from my thoughts. “Oh, yes, but only a little bit, please,” I say, coming back to his question. “I don’t want to get drunk.”
“Are you afraid Xander the Philanderer will get you upstairs to his bedroom?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“I’m not afraid of that happening, Xander Wales. But I do have to be able to find the bus to get back home to Sloane Square, thank you very much,” I tease.
He smiles as soon as I say Xander Wales. It’s my way of saying I know who I’m spending time with this evening. That Xander the Philanderer is in his past. The kingship is his future.
But right now, as this man sits here studying me under the fringe of his dark eyelashes, I know I’m with Xander Wales.
And I like him.
Xander frowns as he pours more of the pinot noir into my glass. “You aren’t getting the bus at this hour.”
“Thank you,” I say after he lifts the bottle up. I watch as he pours some more into his own glass. “And why not?”
He twists his lips in disagreement. “Because it’s late.”
I giggle. “I know. And I haven’t fallen asleep—you must be incredibly fascinating,” I quip.
He chuckles, and the sound reverberates deliciously through my body.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says, smiling as he takes a sip of his wine.
“You should. EastEnders doesn’t even get that every time I watch,” I tease, grinning wickedly at him.
“Back to the bus. If I were any other man on the planet, I’d escort you home,” Xander says softly. “It’s not safe for you to be walking around London by yourself. But if I do, it’s not as simple as me popping into a cab with you. I have to bring my protection officers, and the Range Rovers come out, and of course, the media knows that means a royal is travelling. That would tip the press off. If anyone sees us, they could start watching you, and that would make things a million times more difficult. I can’t do that to you. You aren’t ready for what would happen. And I won’t put that on you after one night.”
An uncomfortable twinge flickers through me. In this kitchen, I’m with Xander Wales. But the second we step out of the safe confines of Kensington Palace, he belongs to the world.
And to the tabloids.
A reality check hits me square in the chest. I could start dating this man. As crazy and improbable as it is, it’s a possibility as of this moment.
And if I do start dating Xander?
I would be just as hunted as Clementine Jones is.
My hands grow clammy around my wine glass. I’ve seen how she is pursued by the paparazzi—and the horrible things written about her in the tabloids. With a shock, I realise that could be me.
Me.
It’s so insane, I can’t process it.
“Poppy.”
I blink. Xander is studying me, and I see those confident dark-blue eyes are now filled with a different emotion.
My heart freezes. Those blue eyes, which have dazzled me ever since I gazed into them during the rainstorm this morning, are now worried. Fearful, even.
All driven by something he is starting to feel for me.
He licks his lips before speaking, as if his mouth has gone dry. “I hate that I have to talk about this with you now. God, you have no idea how much I hate this. But if we want to see each other, I want to keep it private for as long as possible. My world is unlike anything you’ve ever known. It’s not easy. In fact, it’s bloody awful sometimes. It would drive most sane women away. I should shove you out the door after tonight and never look back to spare you. I should. That would be the right thing to do.
“But because I do like you,” he continues, “I’m selfish. I don’t want to disappear. Hell, I already know I want to see you again, and you haven’t even left my kitchen. And that starts us on a path where you would eventually have to face this part of being with me. I feel it’s only fair you know this up front and make a decision