Page 39 of Royal Cocktail

“This is unacceptable,” Tarlton Porter said, pacing behind his desk. “What the hell were you thinking? You, prancing around like some air-headed female?”

Skye forced herself not to cower as she looked at her father. “I’m not … air-headed, and I don’t … prance. I love him.”

Her father waved the words away as if they were gnats at a picnic. “I thought you knew better, Skye. This kind of behavior? And one week before the symposium? Did you even stop to think how this would reflect on the firm?”

“This is … my fault? I didn’t ask to be … photographed. Followed. You’re punishing me for … living my life.”

For the last four days, she and Leo had been inseparable. They’d worked on the constitutional issues at the firm’s library or the sitting area in his suite. They’d practiced her speaking with an audience from both the firm and Jürgen’s security staff. They’d gone out for meals at both divey restaurants and high-end steak houses, with Skye always ordering to get in more practice. They’d had drinks at The Fix and mingled with her friends, all of whom accepted Leo as just one of the gang.

They hadn’t gone out of their way to draw attention, but they hadn’t tried to hide, either. True, they’d toned down the PDA, but there’d been hand-holding and a few kisses when they weren’t behind closed door. They hadn’t seen anyone taking snaps, but that didn’t mean folks weren’t watching. And considering the number of posts that had hit Twitter and other platforms, most royal watchers were very skilled at being sneaky. All the more impressive since Jürgen had stepped up security once the spotlight had landed on them.

“The man is a prince,” her father said, both stating the obvious and drawing Skye from her thoughts. “He’s used to a life of privilege. Of getting who he wants and what he wants.”

“Is he? Well, so are you.” She snapped the words out, fury making her react before thinking. But apparently her words hit the mark, because her father took a step backward.

“You’re lashing out, Skye.”

“You want … me to be someone … I’m not. And so you … insist I speak … at the symposium.”

His shoulders sagged, and he settled into the chair behind his desk. She stood a bit longer, then took a seat, too. “I love him, Daddy. And he … loves me.”

Her father sighed. “Let’s say that’s true.”

“It is.”

He didn’t even pause for her comment. “It doesn’t matter because nothing can come of it. The man is going to be a king. And soon if the reports about his father’s health are accurate.” He leaned forward. “Sweetheart, no matter how you feel about this man, you should end it.”

She said nothing. He was right, of course. But she wasn’t going to admit that aloud.

“What are you prepared to do if he wants you to go back with him? You’re not royal. You’re not a citizen. You can’t marry him.”

“You researched that?”

“You’re my daughter. Of course, I did.”

She blinked, fighting tears. “We know, Daddy.”

“Tell me you aren’t contemplating being his mistress.”

She swallowed. The temptation was there, yes, if for no other reason than to stay with Leo. But she shook her head. “I couldn’t be that girl.” She managed a rueful smile, then shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. I’d be in his circle no matter what, and I’d wither in the spotlight.”

Her father stood then circled his desk. He stopped in front of her and held out his hand. She took it and rose, confused as to his purpose. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I tossed you into the symposium line-up thinking only of myself.”

She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick with tears. “I don’t know what you want from me, Daddy.”

His shoulders sagged. “Oh, baby. All I want is your forgiveness.”

A single tear escaped. “Then we’ve been at … cross purposes. Because all I’ve wanted is for you to … forgive yourself.”

* * *

“One more week,” Leo said as she snuggled close. They were in her bed, having gotten distracted when Skye was changing for the evening’s celebration honoring Professor Malkin and his impressive body of work. “I have to leave right after the symposium. The royal physician has asked that Gisele and I both meet with him in person.”

“I know. I don’t want … you to go.”

He looked at her, and she shook her head, certain she knew what he was going to say. She pressed her finger to his lips, then bent forward and kissed him. “We’re going to enjoy the week … we have left.”

“Yes,” he said. “We are.”