Blitzed by the Brit: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (41 page)

I
turned
my phone to silent, and slipped out of the apartment before I could be surrounded by photographers.

I made a conscious effort to avoid the news, but that was easier said than done. Going online in any way, shape, or form, was basically off the table, and I had to put headphones in to avoid hearing conversations about me.

No one recognized me wearing a large pair of aviators and keeping my head down, but that wouldn’t last long. I didn’t have a Facebook page, but I had plenty of friends who did. Their photos would soon start popping up, showing me drunk, and with women draped over me.

Then the the sex stories would start. I could just picture the headlines in the tabloids now.

MY NIGHT WITH A PRINCE.

ROYALLY SCREWED.

I SUCKED THE CROWN JEWELS
.

I probably deserved the trashy headlines. It was my fault for sleeping with trashy women.

My phone had already collected hundreds of messages, but none of them were from Sophia, so I ignored them. She’d had a few hours to think about it. How long would she need? Most women would jump at the chance to marry a prince, but apparently Sophia was not ‘most women.’ I knew that already, of course. Sophia was special. Any man would be lucky to have her—even a prince would have to work to earn her affection.

There were other women who would marry me, but I had my heart set on Sophia now. She was the perfect choice.

And she was beautiful. Truly stunning. Was that a good thing? It would certainly make it a lot harder to keep my hands off her for six months, but at least I wouldn’t have to fake my desire for her in public. It was definitely better than being a prince and getting some crappy arranged marriage.

I had to avoid that at all costs. If I accepted a position as heir to the throne, my life would be over. I’d have no freedom. It would be all hand-waving, and ribbon-cutting, and whatever other bullshit the royal family did these days.

If I got married and claimed my inheritance, I could avoid all that. Sophia wasn’t the only option, but she was the only one I wanted.

I didn’t dare call Tabitha in case those bastards at the tabloids were still doing the wiretapping thing, but I did want to see her. As far as I knew, video conferencing was still a fairly secure bet, especially going through a VPN. It was a risk, but it was a risk I had to take. I needed to see Tabitha and Liam. They were the whole reason I was doing this, after all.

I walked to a park where I knew I could get the rare combination of privacy and enough cell phone reception to make a video call. I kept my head down the entire way in case someone recognized me. Did people actually recognize famous faces on the street? I never did, but then I was shit with faces. I hadn’t even recognized that actress until we’d finished the deed, and she’d started talking about her Oscar win. I was fairly certain I could bump into Lady Gaga wearing a dress made of meat and I wouldn’t recognize her.

I tried calling, but no answer. Of course there was no answer—she was eight hours behind and it was the middle of the night there. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

Still no message from Sophia. Once again, I thought about asking someone else to help me out, but I couldn’t imagine it not being Sophia. I wanted to parade her around as my fiancée, and show her off to my friends. I wanted to go on television and tell the world that I was renouncing my claim to the throne because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Sophia.

Alright, so I’d look like a bit of a tit when we split up six months later, but we’d have fun in the meantime.

My proposal this morning hadn’t exactly been the stuff of fairy tales, even if marrying a prince was.

I just had to convince Sophia that this engagement and marriage was the right thing for both of us. She probably needed the money almost as much as I did. Students who worked part-time in coffee shops weren’t usually sleeping on mattresses stuffed with £50 notes after all. Not to mention, education in America was expensive, from what I’d heard. She’d have a fuck-tonne of debt that I could clear for her.

And she’d mentioned a visa. Sophia wanted to stay in the country after her studies. If she married me, getting a visa would be a formality. It was a win-win. I just needed to show her that.

“
O
h my God
, is that him?”

“Where do I know him from?”

“He sure looks like that prince.”

My disguise didn’t pass muster close up in a crowded jewelry store. Within seconds, the gossip started, and phones were held in front of faces to record the moment for posterity.

The manager of the story noticed the commotion—and the reason for it—and quickly came over to help.

“Close the store,” I demanded.

Might as well make the most of this ‘being a prince’ thing.

“Yes, sir,” the man said, before immediately ushering customers out of the store, and then locking the door. “It’s an absolute honor—”

“—to have me in the store. Yes, I’m sure it is. I’m here to buy a ring.”

“What type of ring?”

“An engagement ring.”

I thought it was only in cartoons when pound signs appeared in people’s eyes, but apparently not. At least I’d made one person happy today.

“Absolutely, sir. I mean, Your Highness.”

I cringed, and suppressed the urge to vomit. That’s why I had to do this. I couldn’t handle spending the rest of my life being referred to as “Your Highness.”

“ ‘Sir’ will do,” I replied. “Now, I’m not sure about all the technical terms, but I want something big and shiny. Something I can’t look directly at for too long without going blind.”

“Yes, sir. Right this way.”

The man disappeared into the back room and came out with a rock the size of Gibraltar.

“Oh yes, that will do nicely.”

T
here was
nothing like serving coffee all day to bring a princess down to earth.

“God damn it,” I cursed, as the cappuccino machine spluttered and sprayed boiling hot water all over my hands. The machine should have been thrown out years ago.

“I don’t know why you’re even here,” Ellie said, as she grabbed me by the wrist and shoved my hand under cold running water. “You’re going to be rich soon. This is no place for the fiancée of a prince.”

“Keep your voice down,” I whispered.

Every woman in the café was already talking about the new prince, especially now it had been discovered that he lived locally. I’d overheard a few students saying they’d spent the night with him, but I didn’t know whether to believe them. I didn’t
want
to believe them, but I knew the odds weren’t exactly in my favor on that one.

George had never claimed to be wholesome and innocent, but he’d also made me feel special. Unique. Knowing he’d slept with half the girls at my college didn’t help, but I wasn’t exactly innocent either. If I did go ahead with this crazy plan, there’d be a few guys here bragging about how they’d screwed a princess.

That was a thought I had to get out of my head immediately. I wasn’t a princess, and even if I became one, it would be a fleeting title. I’d lose it again when George and I went through the inevitable divorce.

At least we would actually get married. That was one step further than my last engagement.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie continued, “that you should be at home thinking this decision over. Then, when you finally come to your senses and decide to marry him, you won’t ever have to work here again. Although, come to think of it, I would like you to work out your notice so that I’m not left in the lurch.”

“I’m sure I can send in a servant to work my shift,” I joked. “Anyway, I don’t think I can go through with this. It’s going to end badly; I just know it.”

“I don’t know how you can say no to him. Literally. I don’t know if it’s physically possible to say no to a man like that. The other day, I closed my eyes and imagined him proposing to me. When I opened my eyes, my legs were wide open.”

I laughed at Ellie’s joke, but from the look on her face she was being deadly serious.

My hand still stung, but I pulled it away from the water and dried it off with a towel. There was already a line forming at the counter, and I needed to keep my mind occupied. Conversations like this weren’t helping.

A man coughed loudly behind me trying to get my attention. That made my blood boil more than a broken cappuccino machine. Weren’t the English supposed to be good at waiting in line? I thought it was a national pastime. It was more exciting than cricket at least.

“Just a minute,” I yelled out. Impatient prick.

I paused while putting the finishing touches to the coffee that had led to me getting a burned hand. The atmosphere in here had changed. The sound of fingers moving furiously over keyboards had disappeared, replaced by whispered conversations.

When I turned around, the first thing I saw was a room full of people all pulling out their phones and holding them up in the air. Then I noticed what the phones were all pointed towards.

George was standing at the front of the line just like he had been yesterday. Except now he had been outed as a prince.

“Hi,” he said casually. He appeared to be blissfully unaware of the attention he was getting. Either that or he didn’t care.

“Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

This was it. Decision time.

The gossip in the café ramped up a level as people began speculating why a prince might want to talk to the American girl who worked in the university coffee shop.

“Let’s go somewhere private,” I suggested.

“I don’t think we’re going to get any privacy right now,” George said. “And I don’t care.”

“You want an answer?”

“Yes. But I also want the opportunity to ask the question again. Properly this time.”

George dropped to one knee, and pulled a small box out of his pocket. The collective gasp from the customers could have been heard the next town over. Regardless of what happened next, this moment would be played on televisions and websites the world over. I was already famous. Even if I said no, my life would never be the same again.

“Sophia Simpkins,” George said determinedly. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

I was speechless. Even more surprisingly, so was Ellie. I still didn’t have an answer, and now I had no more time to think about it. I couldn’t do this, could I?

This is insane.

Absolutely batshit crazy.

I should run away and never look back.

I should—

George opened the box.

Holy shit, that’s a big rock
.

“
P
eople are going
to assume we’re shagging.”

“Would you like me to make some satisfied noises?” I asked. “There are bound to be people outside my room trying to get the scoop. Wouldn’t want you to look bad.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure there are enough kiss and tell stories doing the rounds about me by now. The whole world probably knows what I’m capable of in bed.”

“What happens next?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“We go out in public together a few times to make it convincing, and then get married.”

“Who are we trying to convince?”

“The trustees of the trust set up by my biological father. They won’t ask too many questions, but I’d like to make sure. They’ll hand over the money, then we’ll get divorced, and live happily ever after.”

“Just like a fairytale.”

George turned serious and took hold of my hand, leading me over to the sofa. I sat down next to him and this time our legs touched. My mind flashed back to last night in the club when his hand had touched my leg. How stupid was it that brushing up against my fiancé’s leg was enough to get me excited?

“I know I joke about this, but I do appreciate what you’re doing. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I know you will.”

“We’ll have to live together, but I can sleep on the sofa.”

I nodded, but we both knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that. We’d almost slept together after a few drinks in a club; how would we resist each other if we lived in the same house?

“My mom’s going to kill me,” I said. “Seriously, she is going to be pissed.”

“I can charm your mother, don’t you worry.”

“It’s not as simple as that. She won’t be happy about me getting married. Not after the last time.”

“You’ve been married before?”

The story was probably all over the internet by now, and it wouldn’t be flattering.

“No,” I said. “I nearly got married. I called off the engagement.”

“Oh, well that’s okay. Nothing to worry about.”

“When I say ‘I called off the engagement’ I mean I ran away on the day of the wedding.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Probably should have mentioned that I guess.”

A look of intense thought stretched across George’s face, but then he relaxed into one of his mesmerizing smiles. One of the smiles that melted my heart. No man had ever looked at me like that before. Not even Stan.

“People will think we’re made for each other,” George said. “I’ve got a reputation for… well, for appreciating the female form. And you’ve abandoned a guy at the alter. We’re two long lost souls, afraid of commitment until we found each other.”

“You almost make this sound romantic.”

“It could be, if you want it to be.”

“One step at a time, tiger, one step at a time.”