Page 17 of The Royal Art of Revenge

The one who crossed my path twice when I least expected it.

The one who looks so painfully familiar to me that it makes my stomach twist. It’s been in knots since the moment I laid eyes on her.

I know her. At least, something tells me I do. So why does everyone around me tell me we’ve never met? That they don’t know her?

There’s no official record of us having crossed paths. She’s not been at any events or engagements I’ve attended in the past nine months. No Hannah Porter has ever set foot in the Royal Palace. Not a single person I’ve asked has even heard of her fucking name.

So why do I know her?

Why have I had this irritating, relentless niggle since we met? A feeling that I’m missing something. That I’ve forgotten something or someone that could answer my never-ending questions about this woman.

“You’re obsessed,” Oscar says, dropping his hands to his lap and turning to me. “Over a woman you’ve met twice, if you can even consider those brief encounters as ‘meeting.’ We’ve checked, Finn. You’ve never met her before that day in the park. I’d never even heard her name until you called me to ask.”

“I’m not obsessed with her,” I reply, putting the laptop on the table in front of us. “I’m merely curious. This woman nobody seems to know shows up, has no idea who I am, and my gut tells me I know her.”

“You’re obsessed,” he repeats. “If you’re not working, you’re trying to figure out who this woman is. Meanwhile, your future fiancée is calling me every five minutes wanting to know when you’re going to return her calls.”

I groan, resting back into the sofa, still staring at the photo of Hannah on the screen. “Don’t call her that. I’ll have someone call her and tell her to stop. Fuck, who is this woman?”

“Hannah Porter. She told you that,” Oscar replies. “Just get over it, man. It doesn’t matter who she is.”

But it does.

How do I explain that it does in a way that makes sense when I can’t make sense of it myself?

To me, it matters.

A great deal.

I need to know.

“Do you really think she doesn’t know who you are?” he asks after a moment.

I pause, then shake my head with a small laugh. “No. That’s what makes her even more intriguing. She knows exactly who I am, yet she’s pretending not to. She’s an excellent actress; I’ll give her that. She had me until I barged into her hotel room and she wasn’t nearly panicked enough.”

“She brandished a can of hairspray in your direction, right?”

“Yes. Pepper spray is illegal, but you always need hairspray. She said something like that.” I sigh and rub my hand down my face. “Either way, anyone who didn’t know me would have screamed or dove for the phone. She did neither. She knew I wasn’t going to hurt her, so she feigned the whole thing.”

Oscar snorts. “Maybe she’s not that good an actress, then.”

“Maybe not,” I reply slowly. “But it took me until then to realise she knew who I was the whole time.”

“Why would she pretend to not recognise you?” he asks, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “You’re the Crown Prince—your face has been public since the day you were born. Barely a day goes by without something about you popping up online. It’s not very believable that a young woman wouldn’t know who you are.”

“She said she hadn’t been here long. She doesn’t have a local accent, so there was no reason to question it. I might be famous in Askurg, but I doubt it’s the case outside of the country. Royal watchers would be the exception.”

“And gossip rags.”

“And gossip rags,” I agree. “I don’t know, I assumed she’d only been here a few months. The first time we met she sounded suitably suspicious, as if she recognised me but couldn’t place me, so I didn’t think much of it that she didn’t know who I was right away.”

“Mm.” He stops tapping his fingers and turns the laptop towards him slightly. “So, she knows who you are and may be lying about how long she’s been here. Are you sure Hannah Porter is even her real name?”

I pause. No—the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. Why would someone lie about their name?

Me not included. I have a very good reason to lie about my name to someone who said she didn’t recognise me. Aliases aren’t exactly uncommon for the Royal Family, but this woman isn’t a part of it.

“What makes you say that?”