Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 5

Five

CAT

M y head is a little spiny from being on multiple planes in as many days. Brand Hub flew me out here despite the fact I could have made the drive in pretty good time. Allyn wanted me to arrive fresh and ready for anything.

Apparently, this big fish has made even her nervous.

The doors to Little Star Lodge slide open automatically. The place is nice, like nicer than nice, made of stacked wood logs that go a few stories high and nestle into the trees and the mountains behind. Inside, it’s rustic but soft and understated, pine scented candles permeating the air.

The warmth of the place is almost palpable.

I march straight up to a polished mahogany desk with my carry-on dragging behind me, and ring a quaint brass bell with an intentionally strong poke, ping!

Nobody comes. The place is deserted. The mile-long bar with leather high-back chairs and brass footrests is ominously empty, not a soul stands in the lobby stuffed with luxurious mallard-print pillows. A fire burns in a massive grate surrounded by river rock, the only indication that I’m not alone.

Finally, a woman with a knit pumpkin sweater and a matching pumpkin beanie pops out of a maintenance closet off the entry. “Thank you for waiting,” she says, tipping her head as she smiles. “I was digging the holiday paperclips out of storage.” She shakes a can with little candy canes attached to clips as she makes her way to the desk. “I’m Darcy,” she adds. “Are we expecting you?”

“Yes, the reservation is probably under Catherine Bloomfield.”

She taps on a sleek tablet, bringing the device alive with light. “Oh right, you’re with Brand Hub, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Great.” She taps a few times on the tablet. “I’ve got you right here. Let me call a bellman to stow your bags and I’ll take you straight back. Your meeting is in The Elk Room. They’re expecting you.”

Figures. No time to freshen up, but Allyn said the meeting would be quick, a formality we’re all entertaining because of the elite client—the elite client she’s still told me nothing about who is solely responsible for requesting me by name to work on the Streamflix show.

Who could it be? A musician I’m friendly with on socials? A handsome politico I’ve met during my years of networking? I’m trying not to let my nerves get to me but the fact they’ve requested me personally is really throwing me off .

Darcy catches me staring at her hat. “Oh, this,” she says, reaching up to lightly pull at the green stem of the gourd on her head, stick straight blonde hair popping out the bottom. “Our local grade school is here on a field trip. We plant a pumpkin patch every year near the entrance to the lodge. Got a ton leftover from the Halloween carving contest and even with saving some for Thanksgiving centerpieces, we’re overrun with gourds. So, now they’re out there blowing them up for science experiments. ”

“Cute,” I say, passing my bag to her while she shoves it into the maintenance closet. “My favorite science experiments in school were the ones where we blew things up.”

She smiles kindly as if she knows she looks ridiculous but she’s owning it. “Today is the last day I can wear it. Tomorrow is officially gingerbread, nutcracker, fresh powder, and tree decorating season around here. We host a lovely Thanksgiving dinner, but we go big for Christmas.”

“Ski season,” I reply knowingly. “I grew up in ski club, but we never came here.”

“We’re a little off the map and do zero marketing. Somehow, we’re always booked.”

“Nice problem to have, but I can tell why. It’s a beautiful inn. I can’t wait to see your decorations. I’m a big fan of the Christmas season.”

“If I can put fake snow or a handful of tinsel on something, I will.” She gives me a wink. “Follow me. The lodge is pretty quiet right now, but that’s all about to change. In the next few days we’ll creep up to capacity and stay there for the rest of the holiday season. I’m glad you booked early since you’re staying through Christmas.”

“I got the call from my boss yesterday,” I shrug. “And here I am.”

“I’m sure it has something to do with the prince.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “He’s a smokeshow, isn’t he? And so down to earth, even though he tries not to show it.”

“The prince?” I ask as my chest tightens. My heart begins to race at an explosive pace.

I think I’m having a heart attack? Are my limbs going numb? I can’t tell.

Allyn careens around a corner in a flash of cream silk, shushing Darcy, “Bupp, bupp, bupp—thank you, Darcy. I need a few moments with Catherine before we join the others.” She grabs me by the hand and tugs me toward the bar, dropping her act in a flash.

Winter Larsen’s face explodes across my mind’s eye, causing my stomach to bottom out. The client, the prince , cannot be the man I’m thinking of.

My sister’s boyfriend’s best friend, my arch nemesis for the past six months, cannot possibly be the prince she’s talking about. But what if it is? If he’s the one who requested me by name? I remember how much he hated me after I said I was his assistant at the baseball game I went to for my sister, and how he berated me in the stands afterward. And how every time we spoke after that, sparring over a video call when he’d inevitably yank the phone away from Frannie while we were on a chat, his lips hardened and my eyes narrowed in response.

Why would he request Brand Hub?

He hates me.

Tore up my business card in front of my own two eyes when I tried to apologize for any inconvenience.

He should be thanking me. I did what he clearly can’t do himself—I made him look good, delivering a great speech on his behalf that day. Of course, I’ve researched him. He’s been living a quiet life in America for years and has an absolute trash reputation from his younger days as a temperamental tween who didn’t want to play ball with the media in Denmark. Winter Larsen, prince, in line for the Danish throne no matter how long he hides out in the US.

“Cat, are you listening to me?”

I look up. “Yes?”

“Cat,” Allyn snaps her fingers in front of my wide eyes and I blink. “Focus!”

“What’s going on, Allyn? You’ve never been this dodgy about a client, and we’ve had our fair share of massive celebrities with quirky demands,” I hedge, bracing myself for whatever’s coming next .

“This job had to stay under wraps.”

Oh no.

“We couldn’t risk an international leak before the official announcement.”

Oh, shit.

“Like I’d be a leak! Allyn! You’re not yourself.”

Please don’t say the client is who I think it is, I’m mentally praying on my knees right now. Please let it be a sheikh from Dubai or something.

“We’ve been booked by the Prince of Denmark.”

I blink at her, hearing what she’s saying but refusing to believe it. “Who?”

“The Danish royals!” She breathes in my ear, expensive perfume invading my senses and making me feel even more ill. “The ones with the castle at the bottom of the mountain in Paradise Bay, the only castle in California? It’s part museum, did you know that? Ring any bells?”

“Oh, God.” I shake my head because too many bells are, in fact, ringing. The second she said ‘prince,’ I knew. Only, I really, really didn’t want to believe it. “I know him, Allyn. I can’t work for him.” This is worst-case scenario.

“You’re here, Cat, and you’ve already agreed. We discussed this. They’re waiting . . .”

“That’s when I thought he was a sheikh from Dubai!”

“I know you two had some sort of conflict last summer, but it’s a reality show, Cat. This deal will seal our reputation in the industry. We’ll officially be a sought-after boutique PR agency to the stars. To the royals. ”

“Winter Larsen is a fancy pants man-brat. Allyn—he hates me . ”

“You must be mistaken, otherwise, why would he request you? Ownership is a sacrifice. I’m sorry you have a personal issue, but that needs to be put aside. If you can’t make this choice . . .”

She doesn’t have to say it. If I can’t put the company first and do this job, maybe I’m not partner material. I’m disappointed in myself already for appearing so weak.

“Can’t we use someone else? I have a lot of clients, Allyn. To move here for months, and do what? Babysit him? Save him from himself on TV?” The first glimmer of hope settles my racing pulse, just a little. “I’ll swap jobs with Sloan. Let her take him on. She’s been wanting to move up. I’ll happily be your assistant . ”

But Allyn shakes her head. “He wanted you specifically for his PA.” She emphasizes her words as if she can melt them into my brain. As if her enunciation alone will make it all okay.

Fire heats my cheeks, my pride swelling to the point of blowing like a bomb. “I haven’t PA’d since I interned for you. How am I supposed to be a partner in Brand Hub and a PA at the same time, Allyn? What will the execs at Streamflix think?”

“They’ll think you’re damn dedicated like I will. You’ve got me to hold the fort down till you get back. And when you get back, we go shopping for a new office space. We print your name real pretty on the front of a shiny glass door. And our business booms.”

This woman knows how to close a deal. “What exactly do his demands entail?” I ask, feeling my anger slowly dissolve into spite.

The nerve of him to request me by name. He knows exactly what he’s doing by putting me in this position.

“They’ve pitched a new idea. Everyone is filmed so the viewer feels immersed in the action. It’s reality, in real time. The last episode is filmed, a fancy finale proposal, I think. They’ve optioned a honeymoon special.”

Allyn is more excited than I’ve seen her since we worked on a campaign for a viral YouTuber’s body shaper line. Having a royal on our PR list would set our company apart. But Winter Larsen is my sworn enemy. I’d rather eat grass than follow him and his unfortunate new wife-to-be around all day. I’ll definitely puke if I have to watch anyone get cozy with a narcissistic playboy like him.

Oh God, get the visual out of my mind !

“Allyn, I’m telling you, the history I’ve got with this guy is not the good kind.”

I’ve been a professional who can put personal issues in a box, compartmentalize, and do my job. Now, I’m not so sure. And I hate that he’s the one making me question the bedrock of my work ethic.

“Shh.” She hushes me as if we’re already being filmed.

I look around. Wait, are we?

Quitting isn’t in my DNA, so I argue with the last few options I’ve got, even though the realistic side of me knows it’s a losing battle. “I don’t think I’m cut out for reality TV. I still think there’s someone better at Brand Hub for the job. Maybe I can speak to him and pitch a few of our people. We can explain I’m an owner now.”

But she’s checking her watch and fluffing her hair. “No time.” She pulls a compact from her purse and double-checks her impeccable lipstick. “We can’t keep them waiting. I’m sorry to put you in this position, but this is our break, honey.”

I start to protest but she stops me with a hand waving in my face, stacks of expensive bracelets almost blind me. “And we both know you’re close to burnt out. Think of this as a vacation.”

It’s so ridiculous a thought I choke on a laugh. “Allyn, you’re a good saleswoman, but you’re not that good.”

“Sure, you’re working twenty-four hours a day and you have to agree to appear on camera, but you’re also in the sweetest little spot for Christmas.” She gestures around us at the towering windows and all the brass and wood that is admittedly cozy and chic as hell.

“Me? On camera?”

“They’re filming everything organically, but I’m sure you won’t be a focal point, just background. I’ll insist you get time off for Christmas. They won’t shoot on the actual day. Take your skis for a spin. Detox, or drink yourself silly in your room and watch cheesy Christmas movies. Whatever makes you happy.”

Nervous energy rolls through me. “This is not going to make me happy. Being Winter Larsen’s beck-and-call girl is most definitely going to make me miserable.”

“Be that as it may, a break from the usual grind is needed, Cat. Your well of creativity will run out, and that’s the most precious asset you can protect in this business. The only way I’ve made it this long is by taking breaks before I’m broken beyond repair.”

Her words hit home, and they hit hard. I have watched her over the years, she’s my mentor, and she’s been more than honest about her struggles with burnout. She’s giving me A Christmas Carol advice right now minus the ghosts of Christmas Future and the visiting all my past mistakes.

I should take it.

Switch things up.

I can handle him.

I deflate and drop onto a barstool. My shoulders slump as if Allyn talking about burnout has immediately taken away my ability to try and hide it. “What is he up to?”

“Up, up, up.” She pulls me off the stool by the arm and drags me down the length of the bar, through the spacious lobby, and toward double doors that are at least two stories tall. “No time to think. We’re already late.”

A plaque on the wall reads ‘The Elk Room’ in stately gold, and the doors open wide.