2. Lennon
LENNON
Five Months Ago
Some days, I think about running away. Then I remember how much I hate running, and I book that ticket faster than you can say first-class.
—Lennon’s Secret Thoughts
I n hindsight, maybe flying across the Atlantic Ocean without my royal protection detail wasn’t the best move. But in my defense, they’d have never let me come on such short notice, and I wasn’t in the mood to be told no.
I mean, I was thinking it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
I’m fairly certain that train of thought has officially gone off the tracks and wrapped itself around a big, old tree. RIP.
The steam melting the snow from my now possibly totaled rental car would definitely be Exhibit A in that argument. I guess you could consider the tree the front of the car is basically wrapped around Exhibit B.
Who am I kidding?
My attempt at freedom with a splash of independence definitely screams epic fail.
My head throbs, but I’m pretty sure that’s from the culmination of everything. The accident. The past week. My entire future. It’s all just a damn headache. Most of which I was trying to escape.
Escape ... Well, that’s a joke.
There’s no escaping my world.
Powerful people would never let that happen.
Those same people who silently pull the strings behind closed doors will never allow my strings to be cut. Who am I kidding? I’m lucky if I’m not summoned home the minute they get wind of me ghosting my protection detail and, God forbid, hopping on a commercial flight to America.
I’m not sure why I thought this weekend would be different. I flew halfway across the world to surprise my friend, managing to do so without my security team or any help from anyone else, thank you very much, only to have my plan thwarted by a snowstorm and a damn deer in the middle of the road.
I wasn’t expecting the brakes to lock when I tried to avoid hitting the deer.
If you choose to look on the bright side, I didn’t hit the deer. The tree, however, didn’t fare so well. Bambi stares back at me from outside the car for a hot second before looking at the tree and the steaming car. She probably realizes just how screwed I am and doesn’t want to be here to witness my impending breakdown—and that sucker is barreling down on me right now, so it’s happening soon. Naturally, she prances rather contently right off the road and into the woods without a backward glance.
At least one of us is walking away from this with their dignity intact.
Mine is questionable at best at this very moment.
My phone rings again, and Maria’s name flashes across the screen.
Oh hell. She’s got to be having a cow.
Royal protection officers don’t generally like it when you leave the country without them. Especially ones who have been with you for a decade. But really... it’s not like she’s ever had to pull her gun on anyone. How much can my safety be in question if no one even knows I’m here?
And it’s just one weekend.
I’m fine.
This is fine.
We’re all going to be fine.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll believe it.
Maybe not, but it’s worth a try.
As far as pep talks go, definitely not my best.
Okay... I can do this... Time to think.
I send Maria to voicemail and power off my phone. I can’t think with her blowing it up, and that phone hasn’t stopped since the pilot announced we could turn them back on after the flight.
After a few measured breaths and a little finger and toe wiggling to test out my limbs that are numb with shock, I’m pretty sure I’m okay. The car... not so much. And who knows—maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe this isn’t so bad... maybe it’s just a little fender bender that my overly dramatic brain is blowing way out of proportion.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Doubt it will be the last.
Only one way to find out.
The snow gently falls around me as I step out into the freezing street and immediately regret the beautiful blue Louboutin’s that make my ass look incredible and my legs look longer than your average eleven-year-old’s. What can I say? I’m short and love heels. It’s not like I dressed for a snowstorm, a spooked Bambi, and an irresponsibly placed tree.
Fuck my life.
I wobble on the slippery asphalt as I slowly make my way to the front of the car, with absolutely no clue what I’m looking at but feeling like I should at least look— right ? The giant tree-shaped dent and the actual tree still there confirms my fears. I’m screwed. “Bloody hell. I broke it.”
Can this night get worse?
I should know better than to ask. Headlights approach and slow as a sleek, black SUV drives by... because why wouldn’t they?
The first time I’ve slipped my security in years and I’m going to be murdered on the side of the road in Kroydon Hills, Pennsylvania, like the focus of some bad true-crime podcast.
I can see the headlines now— Her Royal Highness, Princess Lennon Allison Windsor Dead at Twenty-five. The Cause—Her Own Stupidity . My father will be so proud.
Backup lights flash in front of me, and I cringe.
Umm... the only thing worse than a car driving by me on a dark, snowy road in the dead of the night is one stopping and backing up because they think I look like easy prey.
Damn it.
I’m going to die.
I will never ditch Maria again if I survive this.
Never.
I take a hesitant step toward the driver’s side of the rental, hoping I can make it to my purse and my phone before this crazy person pulls out a gun.
How’s the crime rate in Kroydon Hills?
Big boots crunch in the snow, and I look over my shoulder to find a man in a dark coat and black boots having gotten out of the SUV.
This is not happening.
Time to move... I open the door.
“Lennon?” That voice... It stops me dead in my tracks.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
I might actually prefer a murderer to the man that voice belongs to. The one I would recognize from an ocean away. The same one I could go a lifetime without seeing again and it would still be too soon.
“Maddox?” I’m not sure why I bother asking when I know deep down in the depths of my soul, it’s him. He seared himself there years ago when he stole a little piece for himself. “What are you doing here?”
I turn back and slide on black ice... because everything about this night isn’t already humiliating enough. And of course, Maddox’s fast hands catch me before I’m ass first in the snow like a real-life prince charming.
Only this man is no prince.
More like a rake.
“Careful now, piccola principessa . Pretty sure I belong here. You, however, last I heard, were in London. Or was it Elwyn?” His brilliant blue eyes harden, watching for a reaction.
Typical Maddox.
Always watching and waiting.
After a moment, his stare softens, and he gently pushes the hair from my face. “What happened, Lennon?”
As his thumb brushes the bruise no doubt blooming on my cheek, I pull back, already overwhelmed by his touch before remembering he’s the only thing keeping me steady on this damn ice.
Seriously, universe... It couldn’t be anyone else?
“Come on.” He tugs me closer, and my body heats and freezes simultaneously. “You need a hospital.”
“No,” I snap. If one more person tells me what to do, the last string of the single fraying thread of sanity I have left will snap, and I won’t be held responsible for the chaos that ensues. “No hospital. I’m fine. Just a little shaken up. If I go to the hospital, this is news. And it can’t be news.”
He looks around, piecing it all together with his brilliant blue eyes. “Where’s Maria?”
“Still in London.” My cheeks flush, knowing she’d never have let this happen.
His beautifully crooked smile tugs at his wicked lips. “Ditched the bodyguard, huh? I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. If she were here, I doubt my rental would be wrapped around a tree.” I shake my head, then whimper when it hurts. “If I’m lucky, she hasn’t already told my family I left without her.”
Maddox’s smile fades as his gaze sharpens, and his hold on me tightens. No doubt, he feels the adrenaline leaving my body. Years of dancing, of honing my craft and developing long, lean, strong leg muscles, mean nothing when you stand on shaky feet after an accident. And right now, I think this man might be the only thing keeping me upright. “What are you doing here, Lennon?”
“I wanted to surprise Gracie,” I softly admit.
Grace Sinclair Wilder is one of the few things Maddox and I have in common. We’re nearly opposites in every way, but my sweet best friend loves us both. She had her triplets earlier this year, and I’ve been trying to find time in my ridiculous schedule to get here since.
A pang of longing hits me when I think about how it’s taken me nearly three months, but with my schedule, earlier wasn’t an option. Lucky for me, Grace understands. Few people in the world truly get the rigorous schedule of a professional ballerina unless you’ve lived it. Grace and I lived it. We met as flat mates her first and only year dancing with the London Ballet. But that was before she went and got herself a hot hockey-god husband and five ridiculously stunning kids. Twins, then triplets. Apparently, everything in America really is bigger, including pregnancies.
I was with her the first time she went into labor, but this time, I was onstage an ocean away.
“Pretty sure Gracie’s asleep by now.” He looks over at my car and shakes his head, while I take the unguarded moment to really take him in. My God . It’s been years, and if it’s possible, he’s even more mouthwatering today than he was back then. Older. More distinguished. He was a sexy young man, but now... now he’s a devastatingly gorgeous man. Dark hair a touch too long frames his face and brilliant blue eyes. Chiseled cheekbones and a jaw that could be cut from granite are covered by a dusting of day-old dark stubble. Stubble that looks so damn sexy, my panties dampen, thinking about what it would feel like against my skin. And those eyes... The only thing more beautiful than Maddox Beneventi’s eyes is his smile, and that’s like finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. If you see one, count yourself lucky because he gives them out sparingly. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the cold.”
He slips out of his leather jacket and slides it over my shoulders, and that scent. The clean, crisp scent of sandalwood and bergamot mixed with something else. Something entirely Maddox—dark and cool and delicious. It wraps around me, soothing me like a weighted blanket. “I can’t just leave...”
“Do you trust me, Lennon?”
Trust? This man may as well be a complete stranger for how long it’s been since I last saw him. Last touched him or talked to him. The memory of the night still hurts worse than the time I tore my ACL. Physical pain heals. Mental pain lasts much longer.
But yet... he’s no stranger. He never could be. In some ways, I let him know pieces of me no one else ever has. I trusted him in ways I’ve trusted very few people. Son of a bitch.
“I’m not sure...” I murmur, regretting every choice I’ve ever made that’s led me here.
Maddox cocks a dark, full brow as if he’s daring me to say more, but he doesn’t loosen his hold. Nope . This fucker just waits me out, holding me close and keeping me safe.
I might question my decisions, but I’m not sure he’s ever questioned a single thing he’s done. He oozes confidence and charm in a way most men exude stupidity.
“Fine...” Damn him. “In this particular instance... on this particular night... I guess I trust you.”
A smirk slides into place on his handsome face.
Yup. He’s a full-blown wanker.
“Such a ringing endorsement, principessa .” My breath leaves me in a whoosh as I’m lifted in his arms, and said wanker carries me to the car like he’d carry his bride over the threshold.
Only I can never be his bride.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelp as I throw my arms around his neck and hang on for dear life.
“Getting you out of here before this turns into an international incident.” Carefully, he sits me on the leather passenger seat of the Escalade, then reaches across and buckles my seat belt as I fight to ignore the way the brush of his fingers against my body still sends just as many goosebumps racing across my skin as they did the very first time I met him a million lifetimes ago. “Do you need anything out of the car?”
I nod, unable to speak.
Scared of what I’ll say.
Or what I won’t.
Maddox doesn’t look impressed, but he doesn’t call me out on it either. Just shakes his dark head and shuts my door.
This man... He’s so utterly different from the perfectly posh prep schoolboys I’ve known. The ones whose mummies and daddies sent them to Eton so they could learn to manage the family fortune. The ones who’ve never gotten their hands dirty or worked their muscles in any place other than the polo field. The ones who would never dream of manhandling a princess. The safe, boring, socially acceptable ones.
The ones I’ve never wanted.
A few moments later, he tosses my suitcase in the backseat and hands me my purse before he fires off a text and throws his vehicle into drive.
“What about the car?” I look back at the cute little red sports car and the tree nearly ripping it in half. Guess I should have gone with an SUV.
“I’ll take care of it. Let me get you out of here and get a doctor to the house to check you out?—”
“Maddox—”
“I didn’t ask a question, piccola principessa .”
I find bossy obnoxiously annoying on most people.
Why does it have to be so damn hot on this man?