for even thinking it, but a small, negative voice whispers to me:
What are you doing, Poppy? This isn’t one of those American films about the regular girl meeting the prince, and love conquering all. You are bound to disappoint him once the relationship is outside of his cottage at Kensington Palace. And it will most likely never work.
Never mind what I would have to give up if this ended with an engagement one day.
Which would be nearly everything.
A heavy feeling settles over me. I question my sanity. Am I doing the right thing by living in the now? Isn’t this only setting myself up for failure?
And devastating heartbreak?
I reach the bottom of the stairs and retrieve my phone off the sofa, and I see I have a new Connectivity message.
From Xander.
The second I see his name, I know exactly why I’m putting all rational thoughts aside and living in the now.
Because nobody else has ever made me as happy and feel as alive as this man does.
I tap it open and read:
Sunshine. Hopefully, you’re sleeping and this is the first message you see when you wake up. I’m back from the gala but restless. Can’t sleep. And can’t think of anything but how badly I wish I could have been with you tonight instead. Anyway, good morning. I can’t wait to see you tonight.
This. This is why I’m a damn fool. I’ll take full responsibility and ride this joy as long as I can. I might end up gutted at the end, but at least I’ll know I didn’t turn my back on experiencing joy and passion and, quite possibly, a chance at experiencing love.
I already know I’m a fool. Thank you, charcoal mask, for confirming it, but I am. And fools do foolish things, don’t they?
So tomorrow, blotchy skin and all, I will see Xander and continue this journey, no matter where it goes or how senseless and reckless it is.
I feel my mood lift. What will be will be. I go back upstairs so I can properly go to bed.
And with any luck, fall asleep with dreams of one Xander Wales in my head.
Chapter Fourteen
Illusions
I know my appearance is hideous when the first thing people say at the sight of me is, “Oh my God! What happened to you? Are you okay?”
My face was worse when I woke up today. And even now, approaching seven o’clock in the evening, it’s still red and raw looking. Some of the skin is peeling from where I ripped some of it off along with that stupid charcoal mask.
I grimace as the guard’s eyes widen as I approach the gate at Kensington Palace. I walk up to the check-in point and resist the urge to tell her, “Hi, Poppy Davies here to see Prince Alexander. No, my face is fine, I just can’t be left alone unsupervised with a charcoal face mask.”
“Poppy Davies to see Prince Alexander,” I say, presenting my licence to the woman.
She takes it and consults her computer. Then she nods and slides it back to me. “Thank you, Ms. Davies. Have a good evening.”
And then I’m let inside, where PPO Dave is waiting to escort me to Xander, who joked with me that he would emerge from the shadows like an agent from MI5.
Too bad I can’t hide in the shadows with my terrible skin.
Dave winces as he sees me.
“I know, I look awful,” I say for him.
Dave furrows his brow. I decide to spare him a narrative on facial products and we shift to talking about—what else, the weather—instead.
I did warn Xander, however, that I had a reaction to a new facial product—not a lie, actually—and I would be coming over with terrible skin this evening. And the idea of his stubbled skin rubbing against it when we kiss is enough to make me cry. Both from the pain and from the fact that I probably won’t be kissing him much at all this evening.
I curse under my breath. Not exactly the impression I want to make for our third date. Tonight is important, too. Not because we are having dinner together, but because this is the night he will reveal an essential part of himself to me—Prince Alexander of Wales.
I draw in a breath, as I realise how much Xander is trusting me this evening. Sharing the life behind the walls of Buckingham Palace with a near stranger. I have a feeling I’m not going to hear a fairy tale, however. My stomach tightens at the