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“I’ll see you next week,” she says. “Hope you haven’t gotten used to the warm weather in the Caribbean.”
“I can handle Christmas in Nord,” I grin. “I haven’t gone soft.”
We hang up just as Paul pokes his head through the doorway.
“Evening, sir,” my assistant says, eyes shifting around the room. “Can I get you a drink, Your Highness?”
Is it just my imagination, or has he been trying to push alcohol on me lately? Has he always done that?
I shake my head. “I’m fine, Paul. Just prepping for the event tonight.”
“Of course. Liam Birchal is here. He said you were expecting him.”
“Birchal?” I frown. “Did he follow me to Argyle? Does that guy not have a life of his own?”
“I understand he’s here for the annual swim around the islands. The Argylians have invited most nobles from neighboring countries this year to revive the festival in honor of Queen Cara’s new baby.”
“Right. Of course.” I wave a hand. “Send him in.” I’ll get rid of him as quickly as possible, but there’s no sense ruffling any delicate noble feathers. The Birchals have always been difficult to deal with, and I don’t want to mess up any relationships when I’ve been doing so well to walk the political tightropes.
Yet as soon as Liam steps through the doorway, I struggle to hide my grimace. He looks me over, arching a cocky brow, and saunters inside. With his hands hooked into his pockets, he looks around my generous rooms and lets out a low whistle. “Nicer than my place. I guess I know where I stand with Theo and Cara.”
“I’m a prince and you’re not, Liam.” I roll my eyes. “Can I help you with something?”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted to see me.” I take a seat at a small round table near the huge windows in my room, leaning back as I try to take on a casual pose. Every muscle inside me tightens, though. I don’t like having him here.
Liam wanders inside, running his fingers over the polished wood of the desk in the corner of the room. “Have you spoken to Miss Crawley lately?” His voice is casual.
I frown as my veins freeze. It’s a struggle to keep my voice casual. “Who?”
“Come on, Silas.” He snorts, shaking his head. “That’s not going to work on me.”
“Oh, the journalist.” I stare at my fingernails, wishing I didn’t have to pretend. All I want to do is tell him she’s mine. Bark at him to back off. Proclaim my feelings for her to everyone who will listen.
These feelings I have…they’re growing deeper every day. I’ve wanted to confess them to her at the end of every phone call. Explain to her what she means to me—but how can I do that? How can I cross that line when we haven’t even talked about what will happen when I get home?
She’s still an anti-monarchist. I’m still the monarchy. It’s an impasse we haven’t actually acknowledged yet.
Liam takes a seat on my desk chair, running his fingers over the edge of my laptop. I try not to let him see me bristle. “There are rumors, you know,” he says, flicking his eyes up to mine.
“Oh?”
“About you and her.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“Well, after that little display at the Gala of the Press in Farcliff, you have to expect some whispers. Especially with your reputation.”
“I’m here on official business.”
“And you’ve been a very good boy.” Liam’s lips curl into a snarl.
“Is there a reason you’re here?”
“I wanted to see if they were true.” His eyes narrow. “The rumors.”
“I don’t have time for this, Liam. I need to prepare for the event tonight, and I have a full schedule while I’m in Argyle.”
