Page 14 of Heavy Crown

Which is likely just fine since there’s no way he wants to do either with me.

“One cream and one sugar,” I say.

“Ah, that’s a regular, right?” He pours the cream and sugar and then stirs it before bringing it over to set it on my tray.

“It is,” I admit. “But only at—”

“Tim Horton’s.” He mixes his own coffee and then makes eye contact over the steaming rim. “I get around, you know.”

I’m tempted to banter back, but now that my mind is clearing, I’m realizing a crush on a member of the royal family isn’t wise. After today, I’ll probably never see him again. He’s done me a tremendous kindness, and this event will be a great story to tell at parties for the rest of my life, but the wings beating in the pit of my stomach can’t take flight.

Instead of replying, I sip my coffee. “You probably have a busy day. When I’m done eating, I’ll get out of your way.”

“And go where?” He raises his eyebrows before he sets his coffee on the nightstand and picks up his plate of food again. “Well, go on then. Tell me the plan you’ve worked out while dealing with a massive concussion.”

“I don’t have a plan,” I admit. In fact, the idea of leaving here and trying to face my life is terrifying. Nowhere to go. No one to lean on. I like my job, but I hate who I work for. Now that Derrick and I are done, I can admit that to myself. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I say. “But my very screwed up life in Bellerive is not your problem to solve.”

He eats in silence for a moment, and thinking the subject is settled, I polish off the rest of my breakfast as well.

“But I could solve it for you,” Alex says. “I could rent you an apartment on the property, and I could secure you a job in our kitchen.”

The offer takes me by surprise, and I almost choke on my coffee. “You’re offering me a job?”

Alex smirks. “I’m offering you a different life. Much better than a simple job.”

seven

Alex

My family is going to have a fit when they realize what I’ve suggested to Rory. Nothing I’ve done in the last twelve hours has been in character for me, and in a weird way, I’m enjoying the change. Doing what’s expected of me for the last thirty-three years hasn’t made me particularly happy. Perhaps taking a minor detour to do what I want will give me one last shot at happiness before I resign myself to an arranged marriage that’s good for the country and tolerable for me.

“Alex.” Her tone suggests my life-swap comment is utterly ridiculous, but I like how easily my name rolls off her tongue. Lots of people have said Prince Alexander or Alexander or even Alex in frustration, annoyance, or warning before, but Alex has never sounded quite so sweet.

My idea is ludicrous, but she can’t know that. “Rory,” I counter.

“I can’t do that. I cannot move to the royal grounds and work here.” She places her knife and fork sideways across her plate.

“Why not?” I should accept her refusal, be satisfied I tried to help, and leave it at that. But I’ve never been good at being denied something I want. “Tell me your other options.” I eat the last bite of my food and place my plate on the nightstand and sit back, arms crossed, and wait for her to spew out some bullshit. She doesn’t know I spent the night delving into her life. Other than returning to Canada, she doesn’t have other options. Her finances are a mess. I’m not even convinced she could afford a plane ticket home.

“I’ll figure something out. I’ll have to go back to my shared apartment for a while, and if I keep working—”

“You’ll never get ahead working for the McGuinty family. Their payment structure is a disgrace. I’m bringing them in front of the employment board this week.”

She gapes at me. “What?”

“Mandatory overtime that isn’t properly compensated, no holiday pay, denying employees their right to holidays, and I’ve heard their health and safety measures are lax.”

“The kitchen is fine.” She bristles.

“That wasn’t a direct criticism of you,” I say in a gentler voice.

“How do you even know all this?”

“I’m the future king of Bellerive. There’s nothing I can’t discover about this country or its inhabitants if I want. You didn’t wonder how we learned your identity with no passport, driver’s license, or anything else that might indicate who you were?”

She frowns. “My brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders last night.” Her gaze narrows. “This feels illegal.”

“You can’t go back to your apartment. Derrick McGuinty’s affair with Janessa Cook hasn’t been discreet.”