A flight attendant started to approach, and Amy waved her off. She should eat something so she didn’t get air sick, but she was too anguished.
She turned on her phone and was tempted to turn it right back off again, but made herself go through some of the messages, looking for...
Her heart lurched as she picked up a reply to her SOS. One of her clients, Baz Rivets, was sober a year now, but had had addiction problems from the time she’d met him at one of his early pub gigs through to the international fame he and his rock band enjoyed today. She’d been beside him every time he’d gone in or come out of a program and regarded him as a friend, but she would never have expected him to go out of his way for her.
I thought I’d have to go back to rehab to see you again. We’re detouring to Athens from Berlin. Will wait for you there, ducky.
It was enormously heartening, but also like hearing she could have lifesaving surgery on condition half her heart be removed.
With her throat aching, she replied with a heartfelt, “Thank you,” and set aside her phone. Then she stared at the flight tracker, taking way too long to comprehend that they were above Turkey. Only a few hours to go before she would have to say goodbye to Luca.
He woke as they began their descent into Athens.
For one millisecond, as he glanced at her with disorientation, she saw a flash of the complex hello he usually wore when he woke next to her. It was discovery and pleasure and something magnetic and welcoming that always warmed her deep in her center.
This time, it was gone before it fully formed. She saw memory strike him so hard, he flinched. His expression blanked into steely, unreadable lines.
Whatever spark of hope still flickered within her died, leaving her more bereft than she’d ever felt. She looked to the window, teeth clenched against making apologies. Was this her fault? Not really. Everyone had a past, and she hadn’t aired hers on purpose.
Did that matter when it was impacting him anyway? Her parents hadn’t cared who was at fault ten years ago. This can’t get out, Amy. How did you let it happen?
Her ears popped and, moments later, they were on the ground, taxiing to a stop outside a private terminal for personal and charter jets.
“I have to speak with my sister,” Luca said, glancing up from his ringing phone. He unbuckled and rose, bringing the phone to his ear as he moved into the stateroom for privacy.
Amy searched wildly out the window as she began gathering her things. A team of trench coats and briefcases came out of the terminal and headed toward the plane. Fresh air came in as the steps were lowered.
Where was Baz? There! She saw the plane with the psychedelic logo on its tail and rudely shuffled her way past the confused faces of people trying to board.
It was raining and she hadn’t bothered to pull on her light jacket, so she felt each stinging drop as she ran the short distance across the tarmac. Stairs appeared as the hatch was lowered on Baz Rivets’s plane.
“Welcome to the naughty side, ducky!” Baz wore jeans, a torn T-shirt, a man bun and a scruffy beard. He opened his arms in welcome.
She ran up the steps, starting to cry, she was so overwhelmed. “I didn’t know how to get home without being swarmed, but I didn’t expect you to make a special trip for me!”
“You flew to Thailand and kept me out of jail. Giving you a lift home is the least I can do.” He wrapped his arms around her. “You messy, messy girl.”
“I never claimed to be otherwise, Baz. I really didn’t.”
“Oh. He doesn’t look happy.”
Amy turned to see Luca had come onto the steps of his own plane. He stared across at her, his dumbfounded rage so tangible she felt a jolt of adrenaline sear her arteries.
Baz kept one arm around her and drew her closer to his wiry frame. He wore the most neighborly of smiles as he waved and spoke with quiet cheerfulness through his clenched teeth, “That’ll teach you, ya royal bastard. Amy should be treated like the queen she is.”
I’m not. I was never going to be.
For a long moment, she and Luca stared at one another. He didn’t call her back or come get her, though. And he turned away first.
It was a knife straight to her heart, one that would have kept her standing there waiting for the rest of her life in hopes he’d reappear to pull it out, but Baz nudged her inside.
“Come tell Uncle Bazzie all about it. Lads, put the kettle on for our sweet Ames.”
Luca was clinging to his patience by his fingernails. His brain kept going back to asking Why didn’t she tell me this could happen?
It didn’t matter why. She hadn’t. Intellectually, he understood that Amy was the victim of exploitation. That wasn’t something she needed to tell anyone unless she wanted to.
But now his sister was in his ear saying, “I appreciate this isn’t something she could control, but it’s time to distance yourself from her.”
“I know.” His goal had been accomplished, and Amy’s connection to him was making things worse for her.
The woman who had leaked the story wouldn’t have been so well rewarded if she’d only been taking down a PR agent who worked with celebrities. No, Amy’s romantic link to royalty had been the gold the story was really mining. It was a vein that would continue to be exploited as long as he and Amy were together.
Even so, when Luca saw Amy darting across the tarmac to the waiting plane, he nearly lost his mind.
He’d hung up on his sister and shoved his way outside in time to see her with—Who the hell was that? Some demigod celebrity, Luca realized as he
