Page 52 of The Wanted Prince
“What? No! You can’t.” She clutched at me, frantic. I took her hands in mine. They’d gone cold with panic, and I rubbed them to warm them.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can still save yourself.”
She laughed, high and broken. “It’s too late for that.”
“Not for you, it’s not.” I squeezed her hands tighter. “The fallout from this is going to be bad. But if you get out now, I can save you the scandal. Maria will back me up, Pedro, Francisco. They’ll say they all saw me, and I was alone. You dropped by tonight and we talked, then you left. You went home to your family, and that’s all. That was that.”
“No one will believe that.”
“They will. I’ll make them.” I slid my hands up her arms and held onto her shoulders. “Listen, if you go now, I can still spin this. But if they catch you here with all your luggage?—”
“They’ll know it was me on Francisco’s yacht.”
“They’ll think it was. I’ll swear it wasn’t.”
Laura stamped her foot down. “I’m not leaving you.”
I leaned into her, kissed her, tangled my hands in her hair. She shivered and sighed, and I ached to protect her. I wanted to shelter her from the press, from the world. To tell her, don’t go. We’re in this together. But the scandal would ruin her. Tear her family apart. I couldn’t do that to her, no matter the cost.
“You have to,” I said, and it hurt to pull back. My chest constricted. My stomach went tight. I knew in my depths, this was goodbye forever, or at least for so long it made no odds. Any contact between us after tonight, the slightest glance would rekindle the scandal. From the look on her face, Laura knew it too. I turned from her, heart breaking, and shook my head. “Go.”
She didn’t move, and I could hear her breathing, the rain on the window, a forlorn sound. Our phones were still dinging and chirping away. I could feel Laura waiting for my resolve to crumble, but I kept my back to her, and soon she sighed. She scooped up her phone and set it to silent, and I listened to my own ping as she packed up her things. It didn’t take her long. We’d barely unpacked.
She walked behind me so close I felt the air stir. I caught a whiff of her perfume, but she was already gone, heading down the front hall. Shrugging into her coat. Someone must’ve called her, because she said hello. She paused for a moment, then said “I’ll be right out.” A new pang went through me, a crack through my heart. Not goodbye, not be well, I’ll miss you, I love you. The last words I’d hear from her would be I’ll be right out.
“Laura,” I called.
The door opened, then slammed. I heard a car door open, then that slammed as well. I ran into the bedroom to watch her ride away, and I caught something sparkling at the foot of the bed. Moaning, I reached for it. I knew what it was: her mask from the dance, with its sequins and lace. Headlights swept over it, there and gone in a flash, and Laura was gone. And she’d left this behind.
“Left us behind,” I croaked, but I’d done this to myself. I’d shooed her out of here. I’d hurt her. I’d had to.
I went to my travel bag and found my own mask, and laid Laura’s down next to it.
Then, I called Carlo.
CHAPTER 20
LAURA
Iwas so sunk in grief at first, I didn’t notice the detour. My head was full up with Alessandro, and I sat watching the streets go by, not seeing them at all. How could he do it? How could he let me go? Couldn’t he see it wouldn’t make any difference? The mob had decided what the story would be, the press and the internet, and he couldn’t change it. Any statement he made now would be lost in the whirl.
Maybe his fear wasn’t for me after all, but that I’d be another Maria. Someone he’d wronged, and he’d owe me forever. And he’d ghost me just like her, and he’d have the perfect excuse: even a text from him could be grounds for a press storm. All it would take was my phone getting hacked, or the wrong person seeing the alert on my screen.
A statue flashed by, a soldier on horseback. I barely noticed at first, then my breath caught. I jerked upright.
“Driver? Hey, driver?”
The driver ignored me. I tapped on the screen.
“Where are we going? I said the airport.”
“I’m sorry. His Lordship said to bring you home.”
His Lordship? My father? I banged on the the screen. “Turn this cab around. This is kidnapping!”
The driver said nothing. I flopped back in my seat. Maybe I could jump out at the next intersection. But the next light was green, and the one after that, and then we swung onto a road with no lights. The road to my parents’ house. A hot flush swept through me. I needed time to calm down, get a grip on my story. If they pressed me right now, I might burst out crying. Were you with Alessandro? Yes, and it’s over! Oh, God, it’s over. My eyes swam and stung.
We turned again, down my parents’ long drive. I had maybe three minutes to get hold of myself. Three minutes to bury what felt like a breakup, paper it over with glacial calm. I’d be short, I told myself, spare with my words. Annoyed at the kidnapping. In a rush to get home. I have work, I’d tell them. Carlo’s flying me out. I’d stick to the basics: Carlo called and I came. I caught Alessandro eating his dinner. I stayed and ate with him, and he agreed to go home. How did I know where to find him? I texted. We’d been friends. He trusted me. No more than that.