Royal Surrender - chapter eleven

Even a seismic event like a Crown Prince could become routine, Noe thought as the summer wore on. It grew warmer in London. The nights were achingly blue late into the evening. She and Cajetan met whenever they could.

And she almost got used to the Diamond Club, too.

Laszlo greeted her by name now. They engaged in polite chatter as he walked with her to Cajetan’s rooms. They both acted as if it was simply a delight to spend that time together, but she understood that, as a guest, she was not permitted to roam about the club. She doubted that anyone was, save the members themselves, but Cajetan never seemed inclined to involve himself in any communal events.

He told her, once, that there was the opportunity to sit at the bar—a common room of sorts—but he had never partaken.

“You are the only reason that I come here,” he told her instead.

They spent their stolen moments getting to know each other. Sometimes they fell immediately into bed the moment they were locked inside his suite, she couldn’t deny that. The longing was too intense. The need too overwhelming.

But sooner or later, they sat and had dinner together. And they talked and talked, as if they would never run out of conversation. As if there was no beginning or end.

“It sounds very lonely to be raised in a palace,” she said one night.

Cajetan shook his head. “Quite the opposite. The palace is filled with people, and all of them are forever delighted to see you, particularly as a child. It was not until I was older and read stories about myself in the papers that I learned that my life was considered isolated. I think that it is easy to forget that what the public sees of a family like mine is carefully curated. The tip of an iceberg, and beneath the surface…?” He grinned, waving a hand at the Diamond Club’s hushed elegance all around them. “This is the only place I have ever been truly alone, truly able to do as I wish.”

And she was braver then. Bolder. She tilted her head and smiled at him, wickedly. “And what is it that you wish to do?”

So he showed her, right there on the table.

And Noe told herself that she was used to their goodbyes. It wasn’t as if she had less work to do, so even if he’d asked her to stay, she couldn’t. There were contracts she’d signed, and appointments she needed to keep.

But he never asked. Because he had duties, too.

They parted each time in the same way—reluctantly.

And she learned to wait until she was home in her studio flat to admit how much it hurt. To let herself cry and cry, because she couldn’t bear to let him go. And she knew that the time they had was running out.

And fast.

Because no matter how she clung to their nights together, their days were always numbered.