Luke padded barefoot into the bedroom. The chill of the night crept from the walls and into his still damp skin. It was late. The problem with him was that when he started dipping his toes into the world that he so desired to run away from, it sucked him in and refused to let go. He refused to let himself be freed. Neither Rhiane’s quiet words before descending the vehicle, nor Anelle’s open flirting tempted him to shy away from the reports and papers he had to review. The queen said herself that he was behind the preparations and the summit was drawing closer and closer every day. Time was not a luxury her mother’s money could buy. The time he lost fooling around, playing games with Rhiane, with Sophia, or with Anelle, was time he had lost forever.

He rubbed the moisture from his hair using the towel one last time, before tossing it on woven hamper just beneath the bathroom sink. The prince didn’t bother putting on a shirt even though it was cold, because his reeked of alcohol and smoke, plus it was not truly comfortable to wear. Although he’d thank Sebastian for loaning him one of his own clothes, he would remember to tell his staff to keep a bag of a change of clothes in all his itineraries so he would not have to borrow from a commoner again. He picked up the tablet computer from the table, its screen glowing brightly in the dimly lit room. 

Anelle had tried to pick it off his grasp not too long ago while she sat beside him inside the quiet SUV. Nolan was given permission to leave and rest for the night, which left him and his ex alone together. She chose the semi-privacy to distract him from the spreadsheet showing the schedule of expenses from the different scenarios he asked the Ministry of Finance to explore. The image manager did so by first placing a hand on his thigh, then talking quietly to him about the history they shared together. Then as the prince brushed her off, switching to the schedule that they had drawn together, Anelle switched her gears as well. The tablet had fallen off his grasp as she practically threw herself at the prince. Disgusted, annoyed, and a little surprised that he managed to step away from her beautiful face and sweet scent, Luke’s voice was quietly cold when he asked her to leave. But in the end, it was he who stepped out of the car.

He sat at his side of the bed with a heavy sigh. The springs creaked. So much had happened since her mother’s idea of a PR campaign started, but he had not imagined that being persuaded to grab a drink from a rural bar or sleep in an old farm house. He propped his legs on the mattress, burying the dark material of his pants under the comforter. It was just work, he reminded himself as he watched the shadows danced on the planes of his fiancee’s face. He was going to marry her, sire a child or two, then leave her alone to live her own life. That is, if he succeeded in faking her death and shipping her overseas with enough money to start a new life. Then he would marry into nobility. He could ask Sophia to marry him. It was the deal. It was what he reluctantly signed up for.

Yet, remembering Anelle and her devious advances. His first thought, the first image that came to his mind was not the face of Sophia, but of Rhiane. Her kind smile, her eyes and the way it stared at him, the stubborn set of her jaw when he said something that irritated her, it was what he saw. It was what made him rethink his priorities. He shunned the elegance of a noblewoman for the honest loyalty of an unschooled farmer. That was stupid. His mother would call it idiotic. Luke was convincing himself it was in his best interest to behave while they were at Rhiane’s property, distracting himself from his thoughts by dissecting the bids submitted by the pharmaceutical companies, when the woman lying beside him started to move. 

At first, he thought she was having a dream, but the pained look on her face, the language her body screamed told him otherwise. Luke had not realized, because he was a selfish brat, that the princess elect had yet to recover from trauma. He left her alone to fend for the nightmares on her own. “I’m right here.” He caught her hand; entwining is fingers around hers. Work could wait. It was only a few hours till dawn anyway. He placed the tablet down on the night stand and sunk on the bed beside her. One arm over her bare stomach, he gathered her in his arms whispering that all was well. “I got you,” he whispered over and over again until the nightmares went away.