Royal Package - Lili Valente Page 0,14

I can barely hear her.

I pretend I don’t, concentrating on sliding the goggle strap over my head.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Her slim hand flutters out to land on my knee, a terrified butterfly seeking comfort that I am unfortunately unable to give.

Still, I find I don’t mind the feel of her fingers curling into my thigh. Her touch is pleasant, and our earlier hug was far less awkward than I feared—at least until she jumped out of my arms like I’d set her on fire.

At the time, I’d assumed she was nervous. But now, her behavior on the flight makes me consider that moment in a different light.

What if she wasn’t anxious?

What if she was repulsed?

I have never repulsed a woman. But I’ve never bored one, either, and up until a hot second ago, Elizabeth acted as if she’d rather watch snails mate than make small talk with the man she’s promised to marry.

Ego taking over, I cover her hand with mine, leaning in until we're so close I can smell the sweetness of her perfume. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s a surprise! For you.”

“I don’t like surprises.” Her fingers dig deeper into my thigh, sending a zip of awareness dancing along my spine. It’s a shocking development, but not nearly as startling as the answering spark of hunger that flickers in Elizabeth’s eyes as she adds in a stronger voice, “It isn’t safe to parachute out of a helicopter. People die this way.”

“I won’t die,” I assure her, my fingers threading through hers, lured there by the chemistry simmering between us.

“If you jump up when you go, even a little bit, you’ll hit the blades,” she says, her breath coming faster as her cheeks flush a pretty pink. “There will be pieces of you all over the castle lawn.”

“I won’t jump. I’ll just fall.”

“Don’t fall. Stay here.” Her free hand grips my other knee as her gaze locks with mine, transforming awareness into something more intense.

Something more dangerous.

Holy hell, am I turned on?

Better question—is she turned on? Or just scared? Possibly a mixture of both?

I have no fucking clue, but I have a crazy notion that I’d like to find out. That I’d like to make her look at me like this again a few more times before we go our separate ways.

But, of course, that would be a very bad idea.

Far worse than jumping out of a helicopter at 7000 feet.

I’m here to scare her off, not turn her on.

With a final smile for my soon-to-be-ex fiancée, I squeeze her hand, detangle myself from her grasp, and scoot to the far edge of the bench. A beat later, I’ve slid open the door, letting a maelstrom into the cab and banishing any possibility of conversation.

Sitting on the floor of the chopper, I swing my legs out, resting my feet on the landing skid below. I glance over my shoulder with a grin to find Elizabeth’s face obscured by long blond hair writhing around her head like a modern-day Medusa.

Medusa, who turned men to stone, which is exactly what Elizabeth will do to me if I let her. Spark of attraction aside, for me, an arranged marriage would be a death sentence for my soul.

And that’s as much reason as any to jump.

I turn back to the world roaring by beneath me, lean forward, and fall, leaving temptation far behind me.

Chapter Six

Sabrina

My heart is in my throat.

Literally.

In my throat.

I’ve always thought people were exaggerating when they said that, but right now, my heart is throbbing in my windpipe, making me gasp for breath as I lean forward far enough to see my sister’s bonkers fiancé plummeting to his death.

And then his chute inflates, revealing a puffball of white with the words, “Welcome Elizabeth” scrawled across the top in Gallantian blue, and a strange tightness grips my chest.

Lizzy would hate watching Andrew jump out of this helicopter even more than I do, but she might like this gesture.

She might like it a lot.

It’s cheesy but kind, and despite my hatred for Andrew and arranged marriages, I find myself reaching for my cell to snap a quick picture to send to my sister later.

Not only did Andrew take time out of his busy about-to-be-king schedule to collect his fiancée, but he also planned a surprise for her. And yes, the surprise is terrifying and risky and dumb, but it’s also…sweet.

Could Prince Andrew be sweet?

Could I have him all wrong?

My mind rejects the thought outright, but as the man in