Chapter 13 Welcome to Denial. Population Emilia
Welcome to Denial. Population: Emilia
Harper Sinclair had seen a lot in her career.
She had taken down corrupt politicians, uncovered scandals that shook the establishment, and reported on royal affairs with the precision of a sniper.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared her for the words that had just come out of Emilia Carter’s mouth.
She nearly choked on her coffee, the hot liquid splashing dangerously close to the rim of her cup.
“You’re telling me,” Harper said, blinking at Emilia like she had just confessed to running away to join the circus, “that not only are you spending your days working with the crown prince, but he is…” she leaned in across the small café table, eyes sharp, voice dropping to an incredulous whisper “actually helping?”
Emilia sighed, stirring her untouched latte, already regretting every life choice that had led her to this conversation. “Yes, Harper.”
Harper held up a finger, the morning sunlight glinting off her polished nail.
“No, no. I need to fully process what I’m hearing.
” She exhaled, bracing herself as if for impact.
“You and Prince Alexander, the same Alexander who is known for being the most uptight, insufferable, mildly terrifying man in Caledonia are not only cooperating but…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing in sudden realization.
Emilia tensed, her spine straightening against the wooden chair.
Harper gasped, loud enough that a patron at the next table glanced over. “Oh my God. You like him.”
“What?!” Emilia nearly dropped her fork, the metal clattering against her plate of half-eaten pastry. “I do not.”
Harper pointed accusingly, a journalist who had just uncovered her biggest scoop. “That was way too defensive, babe.”
Emilia groaned, rubbing her temples with both hands. “I tolerate him.”
Harper’s smile was pure evil as she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Sure. And that’s why your face is currently doing an impression of a tomato.”
Emilia glared, the flush creeping up her neck betraying her. “You’re impossible.”
Harper sipped her coffee like she was the lead detective cracking open a case, eyebrows raised above the rim of her mug. “I accept that.”
Emilia took a steadying breath, fingers fidgeting with the paper napkin in her lap. “Fine. Maybe he’s… not as awful as I thought he’d be.”
Harper’s eyes lit up like a gossip columnist who just got handed an exclusive, the grin spreading across her face in slow motion. “Ohhhhhhh.”
Emilia immediately regretted opening her mouth. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” Harper’s grin widened as she propped her chin on her hand. “I’m just marveling at how professionally you’re discussing your very professional and completely platonic work situation.” She batted her lashes with exaggerated innocence. “No emotional investment whatsoever.”
Emilia huffed, tearing the napkin into small pieces. “He’s actually useful, okay? He knows things. Annoyingly useful things.” She waved a hand, exasperated, nearly knocking over the sugar dispenser. “And I’d be an idiot not to take advantage of that.”
Harper took a long, slow sip of her coffee, watching her like a cat stalking a particularly oblivious mouse. The café’s ambient chatter seemed to fade away as she set down her cup with deliberate precision.
“Mmmhmm. And this definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he’s ridiculously attractive, right?”
Emilia choked on air, her cheeks flaming. “I never said that.”
Harper leaned forward, grinning, her voice dropping conspiratorially despite the empty tables around them. “You didn’t have to. It’s an objective fact.”
Emilia buried her face in her hands, her words muffled. “I hate you.”
Harper beamed, reaching across to pat Emilia’s arm. “No, you don’t. Because I’m the only one who understands how absolutely unhinged this situation is.” She tapped a manicured nail against her leather-bound notebook, which never left her side. “Let’s break this down.”
“Oh God, no.” Emilia groaned, peeking through her fingers.
Harper ignored her, flipping open her notebook with the flourish of a prosecuting attorney presenting evidence. “So. Alexander is not only actually enjoying working with you, but he’s also hanging around longer than necessary, which, for him, is basically a public confession of undying love.”
Emilia threw a napkin at her, the paper floating pathetically between them. Harper dodged it effortlessly, not even breaking her rhythm.
“And tell me, dearest best friend,” Harper continued, her expression softening slightly, “when exactly did you go from ‘I hate his royal guts’ to ‘maybe he’s not the worst person I’ve ever met’?”
Emilia hesitated, her gaze dropping to the cooling coffee in front of her, a war of emotions playing across her face.
Harper gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like she had just witnessed a miracle, nearly knocking over her own cup in her enthusiasm. “IT’S ALREADY HAPPENING.”
Emilia threw another napkin with more force. Harper cackled, the sound drawing amused glances from the barista behind the counter.
Emilia exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. Yes. I don’t hate him. He’s… actually kind of fun to work with.” She hesitated before mumbling under her breath, her fingertip tracing a pattern on the wooden tabletop. “And he might be charming. In an infuriating way.”
Harper’s eyes widened in genuine surprise before the glee took over. “Did you just say—”
“We are not talking about this anymore,” Emilia insisted, sitting up straighter and reaching for her purse as if to leave.
Harper’s grin turned positively feral as she reached out to stop her friend. “Oh, babe. We are absolutely talking about this.”
Emilia covered her face with her hands, her fingers pressing against her closed eyelids as if she could make this entire conversation disappear.
Harper gleefully flipped to a fresh page in her notebook, the scratching of her pen audible as she wrote something with a flourish. She turned the page around, revealing what she’d written in large letters: ROYAL WEDDING PLANS.
“So,” she asked with mock seriousness, “tell me, when’s the wedding?”