“We can’t have this conversation out here,” she said.

  “Maybe you could leave early?” he asked hopefully.

  She shook her head. She actually was leaving early today; she’d already negotiated for that. She didn’t want to think about that right now, though.

  “Why don’t we see what your next step is in this ‘multistep process’, and then we’ll move from there,” she said, her voice almost prim. “Hold on a moment. Not too close to the flowers,” she said, and he took a step back.

  She quick-stepped to Martha’s office, knocking on the doorframe.

  “Martha? Is it all right if I use one of the conference rooms for a moment?”

  Martha had apparently been watching the whole circus through the window of her office, and her eyes rounded. “Is that... are you telling me that ‘shadow-the-job Ben’ has been Prince Ben of Reinia? How the hell did I miss that? I’m going to kill Holly!”

  “It’s a long story,” Jane said. “One I will explain at length later, but right now, I just need to see what he wants.”

  Martha nodded quickly. “Take conference room A,” she said. “And you are totally telling me everything!”

  Jane nodded her thanks, hurriedly returning to Ben and gesturing to him to follow her. She led him to the small conference room, ignoring the stares and Emily Parker’s slack-jawed staring. She closed the door behind them, and then, when she saw that most of the bullpen was staring at them like a tropical fish tank, she closed the blinds. Finally, they had some privacy.

  She turned to him. “So. You’re apologizing,” she said, leaning against the table and looking at him warily. “What are you apologizing for, exactly?”

  He sighed, and took a step closer to her, his arms outstretched like he wanted to hold her. And a big part of her wanted exactly that: for him to wrap her up in his arms and not let go. But they needed to talk this out. He stopped just short, pulling his hands back and sighing.

  “I never should have spoken to you the way I did,” he said. “You had every right to talk to my mother first, to get the facts straight, before you talked to me. You didn’t owe me anything.”

  She let out a slow exhalation, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

  “And I shouldn’t have accused you of doing everything just to further your career,” he continued. “That was a terrible and ugly accusation. You had only ever helped me. I know that you’re tenacious, and I know you’re ambitious. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I also trust you. I know that you wouldn’t publish anything if I didn’t give you an explicit go-ahead. My only excuse was that I was angry, and I felt betrayed, and I lashed out. You were there, and you caught some of that backlash.”

  She sniffled. “You hurt me, Ben,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

  He looked agonized. “I know,” he said, his voice rough and broken. “I am so, so sorry.”

  She studied his face. It seemed like she knew every curve, every feature. She could see his sincerity writ large, from his soulful dark eyes to the iron clench of his jaw.

  “Don’t do it again.”

  He nodded. Then he held out his arms again, giving her the opportunity to make the choice: accept him, or turn him away.

  She swallowed hard. Took a deep breath, like she was going to skydive.

  Then she stepped forward, moving into the circle of his embrace, resting her cheek against his broad, hard chest. She felt his heart beating beneath her ear, pounding quickly and erratically, as his arms closed around her tightly, as if he were afraid she’d vanish if he let go. She snuggled against him, feeling safe and grounded and cared for.

  “I have missed you,” he said, kissing the top of her head. She pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

  “I missed you, too,” she admitted.

  They stood like that for a few moments, just existing together. Then she felt as well as heard him sigh. “I found Jess,” he said.

  Now she fully took a step back. “How did that go? Are you all right?” She knew that had to be momentous.

  He gave her a small half-smile, more rueful than happy. “It... did not go as planned,” he admitted.

  “Is she all right?” Jane pressed. “What happened?”

  “She’s fine. She just doesn’t want anything to do with the Reinian monarchy,” he said, shocking Jane. “It turns out, she knew about my father—our father—for years now. And there were a lot of extenuating circumstances for the secrecy... it would have been painful, possibly even dangerous, if the truth had come out sooner. She wants to stay relatively anonymous. She has a good life—she’s a physiologist over in Manchester. She doesn’t want any scandal, especially anything that might hurt her mother. I can’t say that I blame her.”

  Jane nodded. She hadn’t thought of that, but given what she knew of the queen, and the fact that the queen was part of the alleged cover-up... it made sense. Jane was gratified her impression of the queen had proven right.

  “She helped me see things I hadn’t realized,” Ben continued. “I’ve always hated lies. My experience with Alessandra calcified that into an immutable fact: lying was tantamount to evil. The truth was meant to be a freeing thing, something to strive towards. When I found out about Jess, I thought that my father, and then my mother, had both lied to me and tricked me. They not only made a fool of me, but they were betraying my father’s other child. I was so fixated on righting that wrong, and that being the only interpretation of what I knew, that I was blind to the harm I could’ve caused.” He sent her a lopsided, rueful smile. “Turns out I was being a self-righteous prick about the whole thing.”

  “That’s a bit harsh,” Jane said.

  Ben laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, Jess basically said as much.” He grinned. “I like her. We’ll have to be quiet about being siblings, but I look forward to keeping in contact with her. She is still family.”

  It made Jane feel good, that Ben had found his sister, even if it wasn’t in the manner he’d thought.

  “I’m just sorry I can’t give you that story,” Ben said. “I know it meant a lot to you—”

  “Nonsense,” Jane cut him off. “I’d already done a lot of thinking about that. And the more I think about it, the more I know I want my stories to reveal the truth to help others. If I’m just exposing others in my stories to help myself and my career, then I’m doing something wrong. That’s not why I wanted to go into investigative journalism at all.”

  He looked at her, stroking her cheek. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”

  It was like her heart stopped. She stared at him in shock.

  He cursed below his breath. “That’s... I didn’t mean to admit that quite so quickly,” he said. “I don’t... I know it’s going to take you some time to trust me again. But we got so close in the past weeks, and I just care so much about you. If you could see a way to give me a second chance...”

  She smiled, even though a few tears tumbled down her cheeks. “I love you, too,” she said.

  Now it was his turn to look stunned. “You do?”

  “You’re passionate, you want to help people, you believe that it’s necessary for good to fight evil,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Sometimes you jump the rails a bit, admittedly. But your heart is huge and you want so much to do the right thing, and I adore that about you.”

  He smiled, then framed her face in his hands, kissing her like he needed her more than he needed his next breath.

  After the long, promising kiss, he pulled away. Their breathing was ragged, and she smiled at him sweetly.

  “I love you,” he repeated. “Can I take you out, away from here? I just want time with you.”

  “As it happens, I do have the rest of the afternoon off,” she said, her heart beating a little more rapidly.

  “Then let me take you out,” he said. “Or... maybe... back to my hotel?”

  There was hope, but also space... like he didn’t want to make assumptions, even though his eyes were hot and hopeful.

  She smiled. “I imagine we could do that,” she said, feeling some heat herself, but shook her head. “But not right away. I have something to do first.”

  “What is it?”

  She looked at him, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

  “I have a medical appointment that I’ve been putting off.”

  20

  Ben paced outside the medical building where Jane was meeting with the genetic counsellor. Even though he thought it was a good step—hell, he’d been the one to encourage her to find out, one way or the other—he suddenly understood her terror at knowing conclusively whether she had the gene that would predispose her to early-onset Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t a death sentence, obviously. Many people could have the gene and not have symptoms for many years, and just because she had the gene didn’t mean she should stop living her life. But knowing that she had the gene would be like starting the clock on a time bomb.

  If she had it...

  He gritted his teeth together, hard enough that his jaw hurt. He needed to distract himself.

  He picked up his phone, dialing his mother. He hadn’t really talked to her since he’d stormed away from Reinia, heading towards Manchester. Jane wasn’t the only person he needed to apologize to. She answered on the first ring.

  “Ben?”

  “Mother.” He sighed.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “You have every right to be angry. We kept this a secret from you. But there were things you don’t know about...”

  “Don’t worry,” he interrupted. “I know now.”

  “You do?”

  “I met Jess,” he said, in a low voice. “I’m the one who needs to be sorry, Mother. I should have known that you had good reasons for doing what you did. I still don’t agree with Father’s early actions, but if you’ve forgiven him, then it’s not up to me to judge him. And you were both doing what you could to help someone in a very desperate situation. I would like to think I would do the same, under the circumstances.”

  His mother was quiet for a long moment. “Thank you, son,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion. “It was a difficult time. I can only hope that Kate and Jess were able to get some peace, considering.”

  He nodded. “I can’t talk about it here,” he said, looking around the parking lot where he was pacing. “But I just... I wanted to talk to you. I shouldn’t have stormed off like I did, either.”

  “All right,” his mother said briskly, “who are you, and what have you done with my son?”

  He chuckled ruefully. “It’s been pointed out that I may be a bit rigid,” he said. “By two women who mean a lot to me. My girlfriend, and my... sister.”

  The word sounded nice, he realized.

  His mother seemed to agree with a soft little sigh. “Your girlfriend,” she focused on instead. “That lovely woman that you brought to the palace? I do hope we get to see her again.”

  “I hope that, too,” he admitted. They hadn’t talked about logistics—hadn’t even discussed what their relationship status was, despite their confessions of love. There was simply too much going on. “She’s got a... medical issue, that she’s addressing, but hopefully we’ll be able to talk next steps.”

  “Nothing too serious, I hope?” his mother said, her voice concerned.

  God, I hope not.

  “Well, we’ll find out soon,” he said instead. “At any rate, I just wanted to talk to you a bit, to make sure that things between us are all right. And then, when I get home, I’d like to sit down and talk to you a bit more about everything.”

  “I’d like that, too,” his mother said. “Thirty-five years is a long time to keep a secret.”

  “I’m glad you’re trusting me with it,” he said, hoping that he’d earned that trust.

  “You’ve mellowed,” his mother noted. “Since meeting this girl.”

  “Jane’s wonderful,” he said, smiling. “I... I want Father to meet her. And I want to talk to him, too, when I go home.”

  Now there was a long beat of silence. “That would be wonderful,” she said, her voice cracking. “It will mean so much to him, too. I know that you two haven’t always been close, but he’s always loved you, even if he hasn’t been very good at showing it. He’s always been so dogged about his work, about changing things in Reinia. But he’s mellowed, too, especially since the stroke. I think that now is the perfect opportunity to get to know each other.”

  He wasn’t sure about that, but he wanted to leave the door open. He also got the feeling that if anyone could charm his father, it’d be Jane.

  He glanced at his watch. Jane should be out of her appointment any minute. “I have to run. Love you, Mother.”

  “I love you too, Ben.”

  He rang off, then headed back to the lobby. After about ten minutes, Jane emerged from a closed door.

  The first thing he noticed was her eyes, damp with tears. His heart clenched, his blood turning to ice.

  Oh, God, no.

  He rushed to her side, holding her tightly. “Oh, God,” he said quickly. “Are you all right? No, of course you’re not. But... but you will be all right. I promise.”

  She let out a watery laugh. “Ben...”

  “I’ll make sure you have the best doctors,” he said. “I mean... you’ve got years yet, potentially, yes? A lot can happen in that time frame. I know medical professionals at the top universities, here and on the continent. My friend Nic probably has resources as well, as does his wife. I’ll personally fund the research.”

  She was shaking against him, her head buried against his chest. Panic engulfed him, and he stroked her hair.

  “We have to have hope,” he said fiercely. “You can’t give up faith. And no matter how much time you have, no matter what happens... I want to be there for you. I love you, and I am not going to let you go through any of this alone, do you hear me? As long as you let me, I want to help you through this.”

  “Will you shush?” she finally said, pulling away. Yes, she was crying, but her smile was like the sun.

  “Jane?” he asked, unsure.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have it,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t have the gene!”

  It took him a second for it to sink in. Then he whooped until she shushed him again, hurrying him out of the building. Once they were at his car, he picked her up, swinging her around until she let out a peal of triumphant laughter.

  “I love you,” he repeated.

  “I love you, too,” she echoed, kissing him hard.

  “This calls for a celebration,” he said. “What’s your favorite restaurant? We’re going to have the best dinner you’ve ever had.”

  Jane was frankly shocked that Ben could get them a reservation at one of her favorite restaurants in Brixton... then she wasn’t. Because he was, after all, a prince, and that seemed like the sort of thing they were able to do. Still, it was lovely and thoughtful. The ambiance seemed almost dreamlike: the royal blue cushions and trim against a slate gray accent wall, the glossy, warm wooden table, the wildflowers in their small vases, the light Italian marble beneath glorious racks full of assorted wine.

  They had the five-course tasting menu, feasting on fresh-baked sourdough bread with whipped butter, roasted beetroot and aubergine salad, pillow-light agnolotti pasta stuffed with fresh girolle mushrooms, Devon duck with blackberry reduction and sweet corn, each course with a perfectly paired drink. They only differed on dessert. He chose the Wigmore cheesecake with an apple chutney and brown butter—she chose dark chocolate, creme fraiche, and honeycomb. They took turns sampling each other’s plates, feeding each other savory bites until they were low-lidded and sleepy with food pleasure.

  “That,” she all but hummed, “was the best meal of my life.”

  He smiled at her, his dark brown eyes warm with affection. “I look forward to sharing even more meals with you.” Then he fidgeted, frowning a little.

  She frowned in return. He’d been like this all evening, she realized. She was still riding the post-diagnosis euphoria. She hadn’t realized just how large the possibility of the gene had loomed in her subconscious, thinking she’d safely tucked the worries away, but now that she knew conclusively that she was in the clear, it was like... like dancing on a cloud, she thought. Like the world was spread out in front of her like a banquet, inviting her to try anything, enjoy herself. She had time.

  She took a deep breath, toying with her wine glass. She loved Ben, and he loved her. It might seem quick, but if her recent near-miss had taught her anything—if her mother’s condition had taught her anything—it was that tomorrow was promised to no one. She was free. So quick or not, she wasn’t wasting any time.

  “Do you think you have a chance at that investigative journalist position? At the Current?” Ben asked, his voice curiously hesitant.

  She shrugged. “I suppose. There are a ton of hungry reporters who are dying to make it over to hard news, both inside the paper itself, and from other places... freelancers, competing publications, you name it. If I can come up with something strong, and do it in a hurry, I might have a shot. They know me, at least.” She tilted her head, considering.

  “Will it bother you if you don’t get the job?” he pressed.

  “I thought it would,” she mused. “But now, after today? I don’t mind. I still want to be an investigative journalist, don’t get me wrong. And I still want to make a difference. But I think there are a lot of different ways I can do that.”

  “Oh?”

  Her mind whirred slowly, playing with options, teasing with opportunities. “I could dig deeper and write thoughtful pieces for any number of publications, as a freelancer myself. I could actually do a true deep dive and write a nonfiction book.” She’d never really considered it before, but the more she thought about it, the more it appealed. She started chuckling. “Wouldn’t that be wild? I could be a true crime writer if I wanted! Just like our cover story.” She shook her head at the absurdity of it.

  But Ben wasn’t laughing. Instead, he reached over, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently.