Chapter Eighteen
Ella had committed two crimes tonight.
Grand theft speedboat. And the ongoing felony of pretending she was someone else. The first had been exhilarating. The second was starting to itch beneath her skin.
They stood outside her hotel, the glass sliding doors spilling light onto the pavement. Her hair clung damply to her neck, wind-tangled and wild, and her lips still tingled from the kiss they hadn’t quite finished.
Nate rocked back on his heels, hands disappearing into his pockets. “Well,” he said. “I can officially cross ‘maritime delinquency’ off my bucket list.”
She laughed, a little breathless around the edges.
God, he was dangerous. Not in the way she was used to—not with demands or expectations.
But because he didn’t push. Because he let her set the pace, let her pretend this was just a night, a moment, something she could walk away from without consequence.
Because in twelve hours he’d be gone, boarding a plane back to LA.
For his own good, she told herself. Absolutely. She was saving him from… well, her. Better he leave with a kiss and a story than stay long enough to peek inside her gilded cage.
“So, I guess this is goodbye,” Nate said, voice light, like he was commenting on the weather. But the tight line of his jaw said otherwise.
Allegra clenched her thumbs, stomach twisting. Right. The responsible fade-out. The part where sensible adults smiled, hugged, and preserved the memory unsmudged. She nodded automatically. Her body, however, remained rooted in place, as if waiting for an amendment to the plan.
And then she cleared her throat. “Or… do you want to come up?” The words were out before her brain could veto them. She knew she should let him go, should be the bigger person. But she couldn’t. She wanted him. Just a little longer.
Nate’s brows lifted—half surprise, half restraint.
“Just for a nightcap,” she added quickly. “Or tea. Think I saw a few tea bags on the desk.”
He glanced down the darkened street, then back at her, the faintest wince tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Relief flooded her so abruptly that she resisted the urge to sag against the concrete archway. “We’ll have to use the stairs. Lift’s busted.”
By the time they reached the seventh floor, Allegra’s breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, her pulse hammering in her throat. Behind her, Nate’s breathing was maddeningly even, as if he’d just taken a leisurely stroll.
Allegra shouldered the corridor door open. “Fair warning,” she tossed over her shoulder. “The room looked better online.”
They reached her door, the key refusing to cooperate, as if it too sensed the stakes. She stabbed it into the slot three times before it clicked into place.
“Traitor,” she muttered.
The door swung open. She flicked on the light.
Nate paused on the threshold, gaze sweeping the narrow bed, the small desk, the single window. “Oh,” he said carefully. “I thought it might be—”
“Bigger?” she cut in, already lunging for the back of the chair where her Dior dress was draped. She yanked it free and crammed it into her suitcase and slammed the lid shut.
“Different,” Nate finished, stepping inside.
Allegra turned toward the little wooden hospitality box on the desk. “Mint or chamomile?”
“Definitely mint.”
“You sure you don’t want something stronger? No minibar, but I’ve got a bottle of warm prosecco stashed somewhere.”
Nate shook his head. “Tempting, but no.”
Allegra filled the kettle, the metallic clink of water settling in the bottom sounding unusually loud in the quiet room. Behind her, the bed creaked as Nate settled himself onto it.
“What happened to the lamp?” he asked.
“Oh.” She coughed, her ears tingling. “Uh, I tripped.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said mildly.
“Devastating loss,” she agreed. “We were very close.”
The kettle hissed and clicked off. She dropped the tea bags in, poured the water, and balanced the mugs. “Careful, they’re full.” She handed one to him, then eased onto the bed beside him, close enough that the warmth of his shoulder brushed against hers.
Nate rolled the mug between his palms, watching the steam curl and fade. “Mint’s good when it’s this hot,” he said. “There’s like a five-minute window where it’s perfect.”
“After that?”
“Too strong or too sad,” he said, taking a sip. “My mom used to top it up and nuke it. Swore she could make it last forever.”
“And?”
“Warm water pretending.”
Allegra smirked. “Warm’s better than nothing, though, right?” She blew on her mug, then added, deadpan, “Then again, my mother refused to drink herbal tea altogether. Said if it wasn’t black in a silver strainer, it wasn’t serious.”
“Harsh,” Nate muttered, amused, and for a moment neither of them said anything.
They finished their tea and abandoned the mugs on the nightstand. Then, almost in unison, they flopped backward onto the bed, their legs dangling off the end, toes barely brushing the floor.
“Want to see the photos I took today?” Allegra asked.
“Yeah,” Nate said.
She pulled out her phone, angled it above their heads and began flicking through the photos: a flock of geese strutting along the lake, the fountain catching the late afternoon light, and the selfie from the Ferris wheel.
“Wait—go back.” Nate reached out, his arm brushing hers. His fingers skimmed lightly over hers while he pinched the screen to zoom in.
Their knees nudged together. Allegra felt a jolt—not the swoony kind that makes your stomach flip, more like the “oh, huh… this is nice” kind. She could almost hear her brain whispering, someone hit pause on this moment, please.
“That one’s good,” he said, smiling at the screen—then at her.
“I’ll send it to you,” Allegra replied.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
She tapped the screen and heard the buzz of the incoming message in Nate’s pocket. Then she let the phone fall onto the bed, and for a beat they just lay there.
“So,” Allegra said, letting out a tiny yawn, “what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back home?”
“Bacon cheeseburger. With extra fries.”
Allegra wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“What about you?”
“A proper pretzel with obatzda. And a giant blutwurst. It’s like a blood sausage.”
Nate made a gagging noise. “Ugh, no.”
Allegra laughed, and without quite meaning to, she let her hand drift across the space between them. His fingers met hers halfway. Their hands laced together, like they’d done it a hundred times.
The room went quiet, except for the air conditioning humming. A car passed somewhere below. A door slammed faintly down the hall.
She turned her head just enough to look at him. Nate was staring at the ceiling, expression loose with exhaustion, but his grip was steady. Like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.
Allegra’s eyes fluttered closed, her mind softening at the edges.
For once, she didn’t fight it. Didn’t brace herself for the drop into sleep, didn’t rehearse who she’d have to be when she woke.
Just before darkness pulled her under, she registered one last thing—Nate was still holding her hand, his thumb brushing slowly over the back of her knuckles.
Allegra allowed herself a tiny, secret smile.
***
The hotel’s sliding doors hissed open, spilling them into the pale, watery light of early morning. The air was cool, the breeze carrying the faintest hint of rain.
“I’ll walk you back to your hotel,” Allegra said, her voice still husky from sleep. “Maybe we can grab a coffee on the way?”
She tried to make it sound unrehearsed. Tried to make it sound like she wasn’t clinging to every last possible minute.
Nate’s mouth curved. “Yes. And absolutely yes.”
They rounded the corner. And then Allegra saw it.
A black SUV idled at the curb, sleek and out of place against the sleepy backdrop of the street.
A man in a dark suit stood beside it, his posture rigid, gaze locked onto them.
His face was impassive, but she recognized the type instantly—the kind of man who didn’t knock, who didn’t ask, who just appeared when things had gone sideways.
“Fuck,” Allegra breathed, knees suddenly rubbery.
“Allegra,” the man in the suit said, stepping forward, “I’m here to take you home.”
Nate was instantly in front of her, angling protectively between her and the stranger. “Whoa. Back off, dude.”
He ignored Nate entirely, marching toward his target.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Nate continued, his hand resting near her elbow. “And who the hell’s Allegra?”
The man tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Princess Allegra von Wildern of Valenstadt.”
The words bounced inside her abdomen like tiny hammers. She tried to force herself to breathe normally, but her chest was suddenly too tight, her lungs stubbornly refusing to expand fully. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, in her ears, in her fingers.
“And,” the man added, his eyes finally flicking to Nate, “who the fuck are you?”
Nate turned toward Allegra slowly, his expression a mix of confusion and dawning realization. “Sorry,” he said, his voice hesitant, like he was afraid of the answer. “Valenstadt?”
Allegra’s lips parted, but her throat was dry, her brain a foggy, screaming mess. “I… it’s—”
Before she could finish the sentence, a man came jogging up the path, his phone raised like a weapon, his voice loud and brash with an American accent. “Oh shit. It’s actually him.”
Nate dropped her elbow and pivoted.
“No way,” the man continued, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “Ryan Steel. Mr. Nine-Inch Dong himself.”
Allegra felt the floor tilt slightly beneath her feet. “Ryan Steel?” she blurted, her voice high and disbelieving. “What the fuck is he talking about?”
The American was laughing now, still filming, his excitement palpable. “Oh my God, you don’t know? That’s hilarious. Ryan Steel. Three-time winner of the Adult Video Award for Best—”
“Stop,” Nate said, his voice a whip-crack of command, but the man barreled on, oblivious.
“—Male Performer.”
Allegra and Nate stared at each other. Really stared. The kind of stare that stripped away every layer, every lie, every carefully constructed facade.
Then, impossibly, at the exact same time—
“You’re a porn star?” Allegra whispered, her voice breaking.
“You’re a princess?” Nate said, his voice equally shattered.
Allegra’s head snapped back toward the man in the suit, her mouth opening, and closing like a fish gasping for air.
Panic and disbelief tangled in her throat, choking her.
The world around her seemed to spin, the sounds of the street fading into a distant roar, the faces of the men in front of her blurring into indistinct shapes.
She took one step back. Then another.
“No,” she said, not to anyone in particular.
A distant rumble of thunder vibrated through the street, and everything slammed into her all at once. Nate’s face, pale; the American still filming; the black SUV gleaming like a threat.
Her eyes locked on the man in the suit.
“Ten minutes,” she said, her voice precise. “I need ten minutes to get my things.”
“Very well.”
She didn’t wait for more. She turned on her heel and started back toward the hotel, spine straight, pace steady.
Behind her, barely audible—
“Allegra.”
She kept walking.
She did not look back.