17. “Set Fire to the Rain” - Adele
“Set Fire to the Rain” - Adele
Despite the Crown’s confidence in their working relationship with the press, they failed to take into consideration the amount of cell phones that would be at the garden party.
The general public don’t follow the same rules of decorum as the peerage, and it turns out they won’t hesitate to sell incriminating photos of the royal family to the tabloids in order to buy another month’s worth of groceries.
That’s how pictures of Henry and Beatrice ended up gracing the covers of no less than six different tabloids, accompanied by headlines speculating about everything from Henry having chosen the wrong girl to him having a threesome with the two Chapman-Payne sisters.
Maisie has waited three days to show them to me. Upon seeing them, I wait three seconds before marching into Henry’s office.
It’s the kind of room you’d expect a posh banker to have.
The scent of leather, woodsy spice, and coffee greets me as his private secretary, Sidney, leads me inside.
Three of the walls boast floor-to-ceiling bookcases, all made from a rich, dark mahogany.
A fireplace is nestled between the shelves opposite three large windows that overlook the palace grounds.
Henry is sitting behind the massive desk at the center of the room. He glances up as I enter. His suit jacket is draped over his chair, and he’s sporting a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, looking more businessman than rogue prince.
He stands and pours himself a cup of coffee from the minibar in the corner. “Want some?”
I shake my head.
He takes a sip and winces as if he’s burned his mouth. “What can I do for you?”
“You can stop making advances on my sister, that’s what.” I slap one of the magazines onto the desk. It makes a very satisfying thwack, causing Henry’s shoulders to twitch.
He flicks his eyes to it, then returns them to me. “They write whatever they want.”
“Everyone at that party saw the way the two of you acted. Not only are you playing with Bea’s heart, but you’re ruining her reputation.”
“Maybe you should give your sister more credit. She can take care of herself.”
I clench my jaw. The last time I thought Bea could take care of herself, she was five. She ended up lost in the woods for hours, looking for her big sister, who’d been so eager to get rid of her she hadn’t given any thought to the consequences. That isn’t going to happen again.
There is only one way to handle Henry.
“I’m here to strike a deal. Name your price,” I say.
His eyebrows float upward in amusement. “My price?”
“We’ve established you’re too much of a scoundrel to do it out of the goodness of your heart, so I’m here to appeal to your selfishness.”
“You’re overreacting, Celia. There’s nothing going on with Bea, I swear.”
“She thinks she’s in love with you.”
“I’d be more flattered if you didn’t make it sound like she’s caught the bubonic plague,” he says.
“Your ego would collapse under more flattery.”
He tosses his glasses onto the desk and studies me until tiny little bumps run up and down every inch of my skin. His eyes linger on my lips, and my whole body hums like a plucked guitar string. I’m acutely aware of how alone we are and of every flicker of movement he makes.
“Fine. I’ll make you a deal.” His voice is quiet, too quiet.
Regret is a tidal wave. What was I thinking, bargaining with the devil? “On second thought—”
“Scared?” Henry chuckles into his mug before setting it down. “You know me well.”
“What do you want?”
“One kiss.”
I sputter out a cough. “Excuse me?”
“I promise to stay far away from Bea in exchange for a kiss.”
“You must be out of your bloody mind.”
“Consider it practice.”
“For what? We agreed this marriage would be in name only.”
“At some point we’ll have to show the public we’re not secretly plotting each other’s murders.”
“I don’t condone lying.”
“Kiss me, C.” His eyes dance with challenge.
“Not if you were the last man on earth.”
“Okay, then. I’m sure Beatrice will happily oblige me.” He winks and moves in the direction of the door.
“You’re depraved.”
“Maybe so. Or maybe I just know how to get what I want.”
“Henry, please.” Not this. Anything but this.
“It’s just a kiss. It won’t kill you.”
It might. “How do you sleep at night?”
His grin threatens to split his face. “Just fine, thank you. It’ll be over in no time, and we both get what we want.” There’s no question why he wants to kiss me. He thinks it’ll be the most effective way to screw with my head. He’s right.
“You’re despicable. Who asks for that kind of exchange?”
“That’s the deal. You can take it or leave it.” He’s dead serious, all traces of the grin now gone.
I hesitate, consider whether protecting Bea’s heart is worth it.
With the way she’s been acting lately? Probably not.
But I’d be lying if I denied the animalistic curiosity surging through me.
Does kissing the prince deserve the hype it gets?
I hate that I’m dying to know what that mouth feels like, taste like.
His lips part ever so slightly under my stare, causing my core to clench tightly. I can’t trust my sister to stay immune, but at least I won’t fall for Henry’s charms.
I close my eyes, unsure if I hate him or myself more right now. “Fine. Deal.” I say it quickly, before I can change my mind.
A mischievous glint lights his eyes. “Should we do it now or would you prefer a more romantic setting?”
“Just get it over with,” I hiss.
“Your wish is my command.”
“In that case, why don’t you go squat in a cactus patch?”
He throws back his head and laughs. The effect is magical. Henry comes alive when he laughs, truly laughs. My insides clench with a familiar ache.
The corners of his eyes are still crinkled in amusement as he approaches. He keeps his gaze locked with mine and slowly slips a hand around my waist. The other slides up to cradle my jaw.
I forget my own name.
He leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. His scent swirls around us like a cloud of intoxicating vapor.
“Preferably some time in this decade,” I whisper, no longer able to take a full breath.
He smiles and whispers back, “‘Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.’”
Then he lowers his lips and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, producing instant goosebumps.
I suck air into my lungs as he moves his head to reach the nape of my neck.
His stubbly cheek brushes against mine, and nerve endings I didn’t even know I possessed come alive.
His mouth continues its journey at a leisurely pace, kissing my earlobe, my eyes, my jawline, my chin.
I can’t stop trembling. He lingers over my lips, hovering, his warm breath tantalizing, his nose nuzzling mine, until I crave him like a starving man craves food. The only thing I want, the only thing I can think of, is tasting him.
Suddenly, finally, powerfully, his mouth crashes into mine, and fireworks explode inside a keg of gunpowder. I give a muffled whimper as heat tears through my body, radiating with every pulse of my blood.
I’m being scorched, but I don’t care. I only want more.
Fingers tangled in my hair, Henry draws me in and angles his head.
He tightens his grip on me, pulling me impossibly closer, until I’m not sure where the seam of fusion is.
He tastes like warm coffee, strong and powerful.
I’m no longer earthbound as he tugs on my mouth with his own, his lips teaching me what it’s like to be kissed until you feel it in your toes.
My hands find their way to his shoulders, his neck. I simply cannot get enough of him. He groans against my mouth as my fingers glide into his hair, and he drags his own hands over my body, creating an insatiable blazing path of fire everywhere they touch.
After a lifetime contained within a too-short moment, he pulls back and presses his face against mine once more. Our breaths mingle; we’re both gasping for air. He drills into my soul with a look so intense I know he can see everything. It makes me quake.
Finally, he lets go of me and backs away. It’s like stepping outside naked in a blizzard—biting and disorienting.
“That was more than a kiss,” I manage to get out between pants.
My body still surges with electricity, but without grounding, it courses through my veins, back and forth, until I’m on the brink of explosion.
I can feel the high flush on my cheeks as my heart pumps triple the amount of blood as usual.
“I wanted you to experience a real kiss.” Henry’s voice is gruff, as if he hasn’t used it in a decade. “I bet your ex-fiancé never kissed you like that.”
Anger quickly replaces what I mistook for desire. He’s right, of course. Beck has never kissed me like that, because Beck is a gentleman. And no gentleman would ever take advantage of a lady the way Henry just did.
I slap him across the face.
“Ouch!” He rubs a hand across his cheek, which is already turning red. “Was that for starting . . . or for stopping?”
“You know exactly what that was for.”
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
My face grows hotter at the insinuation. “You flatter yourself. If I was enjoying myself, you would know it.” My denial is futile, a dying man’s attempt at survival, but necessary all the same.
“In that case, we could have another go at it and you could tell me what you like this time.”
“Or we could both go jump into a volcano.”
Not even if I were dying would I admit how badly I want to do that again. My lips are still throbbing with the memory of his, my skin chafed from his stubble, and a homesick ache twists through me. I miss him, and he’s standing right in front of me.
A knock sounds on the door, reminding me where I am. It’s followed by Henry’s secretary sticking his head into the room. “Mr. Beckham Harrison is here for your appointment, sir.”
Panic shoots through me. Henry meets my eyes, then turns back to his secretary. “Give me a second.”
Sidney nods and closes the door again.