He smirked. “Like listening to other people’s conversations, do you?”

  “If you want a private conversation, you need to turn down your phone,” she shot back, “and besides, I’m a reporter. Nosy by nature. But that’s not the point. The point is, this gala is the perfect place to do more research!”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Think about it,” she said, unlocking her door and opening it. He followed her in, carrying the fish and chips and putting them on the bed. “People who know your father better than anyone will be there. People who have been involved in all sorts of gossip and scandals. And I imagine there will be free flowing booze, which facilitates people talking about things they normally wouldn’t.”

  He stroked that square-cut jaw of his. “That... is true, actually.”

  “If we ask the right people, we might be able to find out who your father knew or was involved with. If there was any breath of the baby, or even an affair, we could dig it out!” She felt like crowing.

  “But how likely is it that they’re going to tell me?” he protested. “I’m the prince. They’re not going to want to insult me.”

  “First, you’d be surprised at how rude and/or stupid people are,” Jane said, rolling her eyes. “I have seen it. But second... that’s why I’ll be there.”

  His eyes widened. “Both of us. Together. In Reinia?”

  He sounded amused, which made her defensive. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

  As if to calm her, he reached out and rubbed her shoulder. She felt a little zing of awareness, and just as quickly shrugged it off. No zings!

  “They’re probably not going to talk to a reporter, either,” he pointed out.

  “We won’t tell them I’m a reporter,” she said, feeling excitement building. This could work, she could feel it. “We’ll say that I’m... an aspiring writer, or a ghostwriter, or something. A writer of true crime stories and, I don’t know, murder mystery novels.”

  He tilted his head, studying her. “I don’t want you to have to lie, but I can see that working, actually.”

  “People love talking to writers,” she added. “I interviewed a bestseller, and she said that it always amazed her how much people blabbed these intimate details about their pasts, insistent that their lives were novel-worthy. This could work like a charm!”

  “One last little detail,” he said wryly. “Why, exactly, would you be there with me?”

  Hmph. He might have her there. She frowned. She’d want access to him, but nothing that would cause suspicion. And he’d be able to get her into the most prestigious circles, the ones where the possible targets or leads were... but they needed a good reason.

  Unbidden, the thought of their kiss in the records room—one she’d tried not to dwell on, but that kept haunting her, more often than she wanted to admit—smacked into her. And her mouth rounded. “I got it,” she breathed. “We can say we’re dating!”

  His eyes went round as saucers. “Dating?”

  “Yes, dating!” She did a little dance, patting her hands together. “It’s perfect. Don’t you see? It’ll give us a reason to be together, and a reason for you to introduce me to people. It’ll give me access, and it’ll keep people from being too suspicious.”

  “So I’m suddenly dating a London crime novelist,” he said, sounding amused again. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, know each other?”

  “What do you mean?” The idea was perfect, damn it. She crossed her arms.

  “If I’m bringing you back to Reinia and taking you to the gala,” he said, “then it can’t be that I just met you. We’ve probably been seeing each other for a while. Long enough that it’s not just a fling. We would actually need to have knowledge of intimate details of our lives.”

  She swallowed hard. “You know, I’ve told you details of my life that I rarely tell anyone,” she said, thinking of her mother’s story.

  He stepped closer, looking like he wanted to hug her. His eyes were sympathetic. “Obviously, you know something about me no one else knows,” he said. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m saying... intimate, but mundane. Things that only lovers or people who were dating would know.”

  “Pish.” She waved her hand, unsure how the conversation had taken a turn for the serious. Time to steer it back to more solid ground. “I can do that.”

  “Oh, can you?” He smiled, and warmth seeped through her, right down to her toes. When the man smiled, it was truly something. She wished he’d smile more. “Hit me, then. What do you know about me?”

  “I know that you take your tea strong enough to strip varnish, and God help anyone who talks to you before your second cuppa in the morning,” she said with a wink, as he burst into a laugh. “I know that you think pizza without meat is unnatural. You have very oddly specific playlists for any occasion, from EDM when you’re working out, to classic rock when you’ve got what you call ‘paperwork rage,’ to the most surprising of all, K-pop on your ‘waiting for the tube’ list.”

  “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he grumbled.

  “And, of course, I know you’re allergic to chrysanthemums,” she finished with a smug smile. “I know all about you, buster.”

  “Yes, well, two can play at that game,” he said. “I know that you drink what you call ‘coffee,’ but it has essentially enough cream and sugar to qualify as melted coffee ice cream. You have an obsession with paranormal romance—and I didn’t even know that you could have were-otters and were-hedgehogs...”

  “Don’t judge my romances,” she warned, and he grinned broadly.

  “And you can solve any TV program’s crime within the first ten minutes. Which is incredibly annoying, by the way.” They’d tried watching some telly during dinner breaks the past few nights, and she’d told him she couldn’t watch police procedurals... then proceeded to show him why. He was both impressed and irritated, but they’d both laughed.

  “See?” She smirked. “We can totally do this. Hell, we practically sound married!”

  He tilted his head, studying her. “We could do this,” he said softly.

  “Perfect.” She didn’t know why she was so nervous about it. Instead, she held her hand out. “So. We’re on.”

  He shook it. His palm was so warm, amazingly so, and his grip was strong... not painful. Just reassuring, almost like a caress...

  She shivered.

  Forcing herself to release his hand, she scurried over to her laptop, ignoring the fact that her cheeks were flushed yet again. What was with this guy? For that matter, what was with her, and her response to him? “We... ah, ought to look at flights,” she said quickly. “I’m sure they book up. And we’ll want to get there and prep for this gala thing. Get our ducks in a row.”

  He grinned, nudging her to put down her laptop. “First lesson of being a royal,” he intoned, even though his eyes twinkled. “We don’t book flights. We book pilots.”

  She looked at him, surprised.

  “When can you get off work?”

  She bit her lip. “I have some vacation stored up,” she said. “It’s been a slow month, and my editor will probably cut me some slack. I’ve got a folder full of evergreen articles that I can probably use, and then she can spread any topical assignments through the bullpen. They’ll probably just think I want to spend time with my ‘new boyfriend’ or something, especially if we both leave at the same time.”

  “Will they find out who I really am?” he pressed. “Or dig deeper into why a reporter might be involved with me?”

  She shook her head. “They didn’t put together who you are, and frankly, they don’t find me that interesting. As long as we keep the trip low key, we’ll be fine.”

  He frowned, obviously thinking it over, then nodded slowly. “All right. You put in the request.”

  As she typed out the email, she heard him on his mobile again. “Gerald? I’ll be needing the jet fueled and flight plans ready for tomorrow. I’ll be returning to Reinia.” He paused. “Oh, and if you could make sure everything’s stocked? I’m bringing home a guest.”

  She swallowed. Suddenly, this seemed very serious.

  “We’ll take off tomorrow afternoon,” Ben said. “Which reminds me. The gala’s a formal event, and if my mother knows that I’m bringing home someone I’ve been dating, I’m sure she’s going to want us to go even more places. Do you have a formal dress? Ball gown might be a bit clunky, but at the very least a cocktail dress or two?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Because I go to galas all the time, obviously.”

  “We’ll make sure you’re kitted out, then.” He surprised her by stroking her cheek. “You know, I think this just might work.”

  She stood stock still for a minute, as Ben moved on, seemingly oblivious, and began to pull dinner out of paper bags.

  She was glad that one of them was confident. Because right now, she was suddenly very, very cognizant that she might be in over her head.

  5

  Jane didn’t want to admit it, but the flight from London to Reinia in the sweet little G6 had been a shock. Now, as she and Ben rode in a limousine through the streets of Reinia, she was positively gobsmacked.

  “It’s lovely,” she breathed, all but hanging out the window to make sure she didn’t miss anything. It rather reminded her of Austria, actually. Cobblestone streets, lots of shops and bakeries that smelled heavenly, window-boxes full of geraniums spilling over with blooms, all sorts of gingerbread-styled decorations underneath the eaves. It was like something out of a storybook.

  “It is rather nice, isn’t it?” Ben reclined against the leather seats, staring at her rather than looking out the window—which made sense, she guessed. He was used to this view, after all, and this opulence. She must look like the worst sort of bumpkin, but she frankly didn’t care. Being a lifestyle columnist didn’t exactly foot the bill for exotic getaways, and she’d certainly never accompanied a prince anywhere.

  “It’s gorgeous, and you know it,” she pointed out, arching an eyebrow at him.

  “Wait till you see the palace,” he said, his gaze as warm as his smile as he studied her. “Been in the family for generations, obviously, but it has a more Mediterranean design than northern European.”

  She couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be adequate,” she said dryly, then playfully smacked him. “Somehow I’ll make do.”

  He laughed, and she grinned back. That is until she actually saw the palace.

  “Oh, my giddy aunt,” she said, one of her granddad’s favorite expressions. Really, she wasn’t sure what other expression of surprise would suffice.

  The place was enormous, a monument-like building of pale, gleaming sandstone. The whole front facade was flanked in columns, reflecting the afternoon sun. There were potted trees between each column. It did remind her of the Mediterranean, she realized—like some sumptuous pleasure palace for a discontented emperor. “It’s magnificent.”

  “It’s home,” Ben said, with a shrug, and he seemed... uncomfortable? As she pondered it, her brain snapped into gear. She wondered if it was because of why they were there—and who was inside the palace.

  She realized, abruptly, that she was about to meet his parents. Worse, that she was helping him investigate one—and deceiving the other. She swallowed against the sudden rush of nerves.

  A stately woman with Ben’s eyes and short but stylishly cut hair came out, walking past the royal guards who stood post by the door. “Ben, dear,” she said, holding out her hands. “It’s good to have you home.”

  “Mother.” Ben’s smile was warm, and he walked up to her, giving her a quick hug. Jane couldn’t help it. She felt a little pang of envy. She knew from their phone conversation that Ben and his mother were close, and he obviously didn’t mind being affectionate in public. She knew plenty of men, royal or not, who would feel too threatened to show affection to their mothers, but Ben had no such hang-ups, giving the older woman a decidedly un-royal kiss on the top of her silver hair. His mother smiled back with obvious amusement.

  “How’s Father?” he asked, releasing her.

  Jane could immediately sense the tension that seeped into Ben at the mention of his father. She could see the strain around his eyes, and in the tight clench of his jaw.

  His mother looked strained as well. “He’s resting,” she said. “Wasn’t really feeling up to coming down, and I didn’t insist. I’m sure you can catch up at dinner.”

  “I think I may be busy for dinner,” Ben quickly hedged... then glanced over at Jane. His mother followed suit, her eyes opening in surprise.

  “Well, now. Who’s this?”

  “Mother, I’d like you to meet Jane Gallagher,” he said, gesturing to Jane to step forward. Jane’s heart raced a little, but she put her best friendly reporter face on. She didn’t have to be nervous—no matter why she was here.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” Jane said, then gave a quick curtsy. The queen smiled broadly.

  “Aren’t you precious,” the queen said, this time holding her hand out to Jane, who shook it. “As traditional a family, and a kingdom, as we have, I don’t stand on ceremony. Especially for one of Ben’s... friends?” She pitched the last word up, a question, as she looked over at Ben.

  “We’re dating,” Ben said, and if possible, his mother’s eyes went wider. “It’s a relatively new thing, just a few weeks.”

  “And you still brought her home,” the queen mused, looking at Jane curiously. “How in the world did you two meet?”

  They’d practiced this. Jane leaned against Ben, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulders. “We met at a restaurant,” Jane said. “The table where I was sitting had a vase of chrysanthemums...”

  “Oh, no,” the queen said, shaking her head and smiling.

  “He started sneezing like crazy. I said bless you several times, but after the sixth time or so, I told him that I’d have to perform an exorcism if he kept it up.” She knew her smile was probably cheeky, but it made the queen laugh. Ben was grinning, too, just like he had when she’d come up with the idea. It wasn’t too far from the truth, after all.

  “So you wound up having dinner, I assume?” the queen said, eyes twinkling, again so like Ben that Jane was wistful.

  “Once we got rid of the flowers, yes.” Jane shifted the weight on her feet. “He said that he was coming back to Reinia, for your traditional gala.”

  “And I realized I didn’t want to be away from her for that long, and insisted that she come with me,” Ben added, winking at her. She knew it was for show, but she had to admit—either he was getting better at lying, or she was starting to buy into the act herself, something she really needed to lock down. “If that’s all right, Mother?”

  “Of course it’s all right,” she reassured him. She looked Jane over, and for a second, Jane felt horribly guilty. She seemed like a lovely woman.

  The guilt only compounded when the queen nodded, as if coming to some sort of internal conclusion. “I like this one,” she stage-whispered to Ben. “She’s so... forthright. Like everything is simply out there on display.”

  Jane didn’t know what she meant, but it obviously was code for something, since Ben’s brow quickly furrowed. “I like this one, too, Mother,” Ben said, and there was a firmness in his voice that put Jane on guard. “And I trust her. I’ve taken care of everything—don’t worry.”

  Now Jane was completely lost in the subtext, looking from first Ben, to his mother, and then back. The queen seemed to take his statement with a small, stately nod. “If you’re sure,” she demurred.

  “I am.” Ben’s voice was like steel.

  “Well, then, I’ll have your luggage sent up to your suit,” the queen said. “And we’ll catch up later. Please, Jane, enjoy the kingdom, and if there’s anything you need, please let us know.”

  “Thank you so much,” Jane said quickly.

  She forced herself not to flinch in surprise when Ben took her hand, leading her on a brief tour of the castle. It wound up with his suite, a sumptuous collection of rooms that was easily twice the size of her flat in London. Their bags were already there. After a quick scout to see if there was anyone listening, she went to the living room and cornered Ben. “What was all that?”

  “What was all what?” He went to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. “And did you want something to drink? I have wine, beer. Sparkling water?”

  “No, thank you,” she said, not deterred. “That whole forthright business. You got stern all of a sudden, and you’re never stern with your mother.”

  “You’ve heard me talk to my mother twice,” he said, grinning at her over the refrigerator door. “How would you know?”

  “I extrapolated, and stop trying to distract me,” she said, crossing her arms. “What gives?”

  He sighed. “I might’ve known you’d pick up on it,” he said. “It was my way of telling her not to have you investigated.”

  Jane goggled. “She was going to what?”

  He sighed, opening his beer and leaning against a counter. “I had an incident, when I was in uni,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “I was dating a woman... had dated, I should say, for a few years. Alessandra. I was serious about her. Even thought about proposing, if you can believe it.”

  Jane blinked slowly.

  “Imagine my chagrin when I discovered that it was all a big hoax, a con job,” he said, and the bitterness dripped from his words. “Alessandra had studied me. Pretended to like everything I liked, just ‘happened’ to show up at places where I planned to be. She couldn’t have been more perfect for me if I’d designed her. I now see that it was because she’d designed herself to be my perfect mate.”

  “Oh my God,” Jane said, standing next to him. “That’s terrible.”

  “It got worse,” he said. “She wanted to marry me—to be the Princess of Reinia, with access to all the money that she would be entitled to. But the whole time she was seeing me, she was also seeing someone else—the man she was really in love with. The one who helped her develop this stupid little plot.” He shook his head. “She had every intention of marrying me and seeing him on the side, funneling him cash, going on vacations or whatever.”