my stomach, and I can’t breathe.
Our secret is out.
And out to my most important client.
Because standing right at Xander’s gate is Christian.
Chapter Seventeen
Curry Takeaway
I stand still, rooted to the path. My heart is pounding as Christian’s dogs start barking and wagging their tails, no doubt excited to see Xander.
“Shh, Lucy, Bear. Quiet,” Christian says. They quickly obey his command. Then he grins mischievously at us. “Good evening.”
I want to flee. This isn’t the professional image I want to project. My stomach churns with acid and worry. What is Christian thinking? That a biscuit contract wasn’t enough? That I got inside the gates of Kensington Palace and set my sights on the future king of the United Kingdom? That I’ll be distracted from the job I was hired to do now that I have the attention of Xander?
“Good evening,” Xander responds easily. “What are you doing out with the dogs, Curry Takeaway? Walking them on American time?”
Xander reaches for my hand. I try to pull it away, but he’s in alpha mode now, and his grip is firm. Unrelenting. He begins to head down the path. I once again try to free my hand, but Xander tugs me along. Soon, we’re at the gate. He pops it open, ushering me through to the path, and now we’re right in front of Christian, who is watching us with an expression of amusement on his handsome face.
Christian turns his gaze to me, and once I’m under the streetlamp, his eyes grow wide.
“Lord, Poppy, are you okay? Your face is so burnt,” Christian says.
My face grows hot in mortification. I want to disappear many times over now.
“Yes, a face mask gone awry,” I mutter. “Thank you for asking.”
“Ah, I’m proud of you for owning it,” Xander says. Then, to my shock, Xander draws me into his side and drops a kiss on the top of my head.
“Prince Christian,” I blurt out, “I can explain.”
“Oh no, do not call him that,” Xander says.
“No, don’t,” Christian says.
“You could call him Curry Takeaway,” Xander suggests helpfully.
Christian shoots Xander a dirty look. “Shut up.”
“How can you joke about this?” I cry, exasperated. Then I turn to Christian. “Please, let me explain.”
“No, I’ll explain,” Xander says.
“I’m sure you will, but please try the truth this time. Because none of us believed that rubbish about you going to the bakery for a cake yesterday,” Christian says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Wait. Christian’s not surprised by this? And … dare I say it? He doesn’t seem mad that his baker is with his brother.
“The truth is I had her clothes laundered, which you already know,” Xander begins.
“Very smooth move, by the way,” Christian interjects. He turns to me. “I merely slid into Clementine’s Instagram DMs.”
For a moment, I’m distracted. “What? That’s not what you say in interviews!”
“Who wants to think a prince goes around sliding into DMs?” Xander asks.
“For the record,” Christian says, “Clementine’s is the only DMs I’ve ever slid into. But we aren’t talking about me. Go on.”
“Right,” Xander says. “So I had Poppy’s clothes cleaned, and when she came over to retrieve them, I asked her out to dinner. Which I had to work hard to get her to accept, because she wanted to know what my intentions were with my invitation.”
Christian turns to me. “Good on you.”
Xander scowls. “Anyway, once I convinced her that I simply wanted to get to know her, she accepted. But only on that condition. She wanted nothing to do with me if I was going to be the Xander she had read about in the media. And I didn’t want to be that person, either.”
Christian nods, his expression turning serious now. “No, I know that part of you is in the past.”
“Good. Because Poppy knows that, too. But I met her and knew I wanted to get to know her. Well, finally this woman relented to my invitation and said yes. And that dinner has led to two more dates. So we’ve had three dates this week. She’s coming to stay over tomorrow. I’m holding her hand. She even has a nickname—what more do you need to know?”
“I hope her nickname is better than Curry Takeaway,” Christian says cheekily.
I’m gobsmacked. I stare at Christian in shock. “You … you aren’t mad?”
Now, Christian looks confused. “Why would I be mad?”
I furrow my brow. “You’re not?”
“I liked you from our business meeting. Both Clementine and I did,” Christian says. “Liz speaks highly of you. Xander told Clementine he asked for