And for how much it hurt seeing him with another woman.
She’d read all the articles and seen all the pictures, of course. For a prince who’d before kept a reasonably low profile, he’d been all over the tabloids after he’d left her, his escapades with socialites and film stars and other royals popping up so regularly in her social media that she finally just closed most of her accounts.
It had hurt, yeah. But mostly it had only reassured her that his departure was for the best. He was a player, and not the kind of man she wanted.
She knew that about him. And yet one real live glimpse of him with another woman, and she turned into a jealous girlfriend.
Except, of course, she wasn’t his girlfriend.
For that matter, she never really had been. She’d simply been one in a string. Not photographed or filmed, but part of that chain nonetheless.
“How can I help you, Ms. Porter?”
His voice wasn’t cold, but its formality bothered her more than it should.
No. That’s good. Formal and professional.
She cleared her throat and concentrated on speaking slowly. “I changed my mind.”
His brow rose. “Did you? And what exactly are we talking about?”
“My paper. You said you … wanted to work with me. How exactly?”
For a moment, she thought she saw heat flare in those ice-blue eyes. But it faded as quickly as it came, and she convinced herself it was only her imagination. “An education,” he said. “Talking points. A plan. I want to go back home with the framework of a proposal I can present to Parliament. A plan for amending our constitution, as well as a rationale to support the proposal.”
She nodded slowly. “Why?”
“Considering you wrote that paper, I imagine you already know.”
“My paper wasn’t specific to Avelle-am-see.”
Technically, that was true. But as he studied her face, she was certain he knew exactly what had prompted her to choose an international law topic for her Law Review article.
To his credit, he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he simply said, “In my country, the monarch stands as head of the executive branch. A king who resembles your president, but with a bit more power, though it is balanced by the role and rights of the parliament.
She nodded. She already knew all of that, of course. It was amazing how much learning your ex-boyfriend was really a playboy prince could lead a girl down dozens of rabbit trails of research.
“In theory, I don’t have a problem with the monarchy. Our country is small, and the royal family is not only integral to our identity, but it also acts as the underpinnings of tourism, which is essential to our economy.”
“But?”
“But I do have a problem with our particular system.”
“Agnatic primogeniture. Only a male heir can inherit the crown.”
He nodded. One quick tip of his head.
“You think you’re incompetent.” She raised a brow as she looked him up and down, then shrugged carelessly. “I could see that.”
To his credit, he didn’t take the bait. “My sister is the first born, and she’s a natural leader. As far as I’m concerned, she’s being denied her birthright.”
“Others would say it’s your birthright.”
“And they would be correct under the law as it now stands. But it’s not my ambition.”
“Physics,” she said, remembering his passion. The way his face had lit up when he talked about his work with Professor Malkin.
He said nothing, and she wondered at his silence, but didn’t ask. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and nodded. “I honestly don’t know how much help I can be, but I can help you understand the issues, the arguments, the pros and cons so that you can go back and advocate for the change.”
“That would be most helpful.”
“But I have a price.”
His brows rose. “Over and above your firm’s already hefty hourly rate?”
“Yes.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but all he said was, “I’m listening.”
“I … I have to speak. At the symposium. My father thinks … well, he’s wrong. I’ll … mess up, and it … it won’t reflect … well on the firm. And my dad … I’ll end up … disappointing him.”
Leo looked at her for so long that she feared he would say no. Then he slowly nodded. “I can’t help you with how to speak—you already know what to do. The breathing. The pacing.”
She started to argue, but he continued, cutting her off.
“But I can work with you. I can help you become more comfortable in front of a group, so that you don’t rush and so that your nerves don’t get the better of you. In this instance, I think that is key.”
He wasn’t wrong. “You’d do that?”
“In exchange for your help?” He met her eyes, his expression unreasonable. “Yes, Skye. I will do that.”
He smiled, and her stomach flipped over. And right then, Skye wasn’t sure if she’d gotten the help she needed, or if she’d set herself up for heartbreak all over again.
Chapter Twelve
“Be careful, Sire.”
Leopold turned to Jürgen. “Sire?”
His friend shrugged, then spoke in their native tongue. “In my official capacity, I feel I must remind you that anything more than helping Ms. Porter prepare for her speech could prove to be … difficult.”
His friend wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean Leopold appreciated the reminder. More importantly, he knew that nothing would happen between him and Skye. Or, rather, nothing physical, despite the visceral longing he felt whenever he was near her.
That, however, would be a bad idea for so many reasons. Even so, he did hope that by working together he could make amends for hurting her. He could never completely make it up to her, but perhaps this time together would at least begin to heal the wounds he’d inflicted.
“I appreciate the concern, though I assure you it isn’t necessary.”
Jürgen looked about to argue, but held his tongue.
“You can go back to the hotel,” Leopold said as he entered Skye’s building, a tall glass box dotted with balconies overlooking the Austin skyline or the river. They’d agreed to meet at her condo at seven, though he had no intention of staying there. Being alone with her would only make things more difficult. Besides, if he wanted to help her, he needed someplace where they could find an audience.
“I’ll escort you up, Sire.”
“That’s not necessary.”
The elevator doors opened, and Leopold stepped on. So did Jürgen.
“The hotel. Now.”
His security chief merely stared him down.
“Do you honestly believe someone is waiting outside Skye’s condo to take me down? Even the press doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Yet,” Jürgen said. “I imagine they will soon. Besides, you know that I don’t have a choice, Sire. Not any more than you do.”
Leopold scowled, but didn’t argue. Jürgen might be the head of Leopold’s security detail, but he answered to the king, not the prince. “At least be discreet.”