Loving the Crown (The Crown 3)

“You mean the crew who let me take you here? The crew who hasn’t called or stopped by? That crew?” I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t going to abandon her to a group of irresponsible staffers. She needed medical attention. I could tell she was still in pain, and her refusal to accept pain medication meant she was in for a long night.

“I-I’m sure…they are…they are…” She sighed. “I have no idea where they are,” she finally admitted.

“I promise the royal treatment. The best care in the country. You might as well be treated like a queen at my expense.”

She looked at the guards and then me. “I guess I can let Lance know where I am.”

I put an arm around her. “Wise choice, love. Let’s get you home.”

Chapter Six

Gillian

I was shuttled out of the hospital and into the prince’s black car before I realized what I had agreed to for the night. I was too exhausted to argue anymore. He was persuasive. He was convincing. It was hard to ignore that beneath his line of reasoning, there was truth about what he said about the crew. Why wasn’t anyone here? Where was Tom? Why hadn’t Lance called? I didn’t have a single text on my phone from anyone on the set. Not a single cast member had checked in with me.

I settled into the cool leather seats as we drove away from the hospital. I let a long breath escape through my lips. It wasn’t until the hospital was in the distance that I realized how tense I had been. Every muscle in my body was rigid and stiff. I never believed I would be able to escape the MRI. It seemed to be looming around every instruction from the nurse. I never fully trusted that she wasn’t going to lead me into one of the rooms instead of into the X-ray bay. I held my breath every time Dr. Fines walked in the room. I looked at Liam next to me. He was the only reason it never happened.

He was the kind of man who would have loved it if I said he was my knight in shining armor. I wasn’t about to go there. I wasn’t willing to give him that small triumph—not yet.

I looked at my phone again. It was still black. I kept the sigh inside.

“How long have you been in Freychon?” he asked.

“A few days. We had two days to adjust to the time difference before we began filming.”

He nodded. “Are you from L.A.?”

I shook my head. “No. Our studio is in Atlanta, Georgia.”

He scowled. “I’m familiar with the U.S. states.”

“Sorry. I’m originally from Dallas. I won’t give you the state.”

He chuckled. “Thanks.”

The car slowed as we climbed a hill and wound upward. It was hard not to feel as if we were driving toward the clouds, although I knew the palace sat on a wide plateau of land below the highest peaks. I had seen it from my hotel room.

Monstrous gates opened and we rolled onto the royal grounds. I held my breath, aware of how surreal everything was around me.

The car stopped abruptly.

“We’re here.” Liam smiled.

The door opened and I was offered a hand. Liam walked up behind me, carrying his bag full of wet clothes. I hadn’t decided if he looked sexier in his wet military uniform or in the tight T-shirt. It was hard not to notice how wide his shoulders were as the fabric stretched across his taut muscles.

We had barely made it inside the grand foyer when an older gentleman pushed his way forward.

“Your Highness.” He spoke between clenched teeth. His mustache twitched. “There is a state matter that needs your attention.” His eyes landed on me.

“Wallace, this is my guest. Miss Gillian Sparks,” Liam answered.

I could tell he wanted to ignore me, but the prince had put him on the spot.

“Miss Sparks.” He bowed his head slightly.

“Gillian, Wallace. Royal manager for the House of Marquis.”

“Nice to meet you.” I smiled.