Samantha
Quitting my job at the polo yard turned out to be far easier than I thought it would be. I popped into the office at the end of my shift the next day and said, "Can we talk?"
Ricky spun around in his chair. "Let me guess. You're leaving us."
I nodded.
"Can't say I'm surprised, but I will miss you. You've got a good way with horses. Who offered you more money?"
I didn't want to tell him that Harry was going to pay me to take care of Driz, so I just said, "I've got a chance to do more sewing and make some money at it. That's why I came to London, after all."
"Good for you." Ricky shook my hand. "Well, it's been good to work with you. Give my best to His Royal Highness. And if you ever go watch a polo match, drop by and say hi."
And that was that. I walked out of the stable feeling somehow lighter, but a bit at loose ends. I still wasn't sure how the next few weeks were going to go, waiting for the news about Meghan, and it felt strange not to have a fixed schedule, with somewhere to be and someone telling me what to do.
I stopped by the stable where Harry had moved Drizzle and checked in on her. She was still somewhat dopey from the painkillers, but she seemed glad to see me, and I fussed over her for a while before heading to the Sleeping Lion for dinner.
Randa was parked on her usual bar stool and I joined her at the bar, glad that we were on good terms again. I was outlining the vet's plan for Drizzle's recovery when Randa looked over my shoulder and asked, "What the fuck? Is that who I think it is?"
A woman, with her long dark hair pulled up into a ponytail in a thin attempt at disguise, walked into the pub. Her designer wardrobe was glaringly obvious in the dim and somewhat run-down environs of the Sleeping Lion.
I just sat there, stunned, as she looked me over.
"Holy shit," Randa breathed. "She's got balls, coming in here."
It had to be a mistake. This was not a place that someone like her would walk into by accident. But she came right up to us and smiled at me, holding out her hand. "Hello. I'm Meg. I don't think we've met."
"Bloody hell not," Randa said, too loud.
Meg looked around, her eyes falling on the booth in the back where Harry and I had sat during our first date. "Do you think we could move to somewhere more...private?" she asked.
This was so crazy I couldn't even believe it was happening. "Sure," I said. "Why not?" Because really...why not? She had obviously come here to meet me, and I was curious to find out why.
Randa grabbed my arm as I stood up. "I'm not letting you two out of my sight," she warned.
"I don't think she's going to do anything to me here in public," I said.
"Well, we've got your back, Sammy girl," Tom said fiercely. "If you need anything, you just give me a nod and I'll be there. I don't care who she is, she's not making a scene in my pub."
Meg took the seat with her back to the bar, which suited me just fine. I slid in across from her, motioning Tom to bring us some beers.
"So you are Samantha," Meg said brightly, studying me intently.
"So they tell me," I said, taking a swig of my beer. "What brings you down to the Sleeping Lion? You've heard that the shepherd's pie is amazing?"
"I thought it might be good for us to sit down and have a little chat, since we are sleeping with the same man."
I raised an eyebrow at that. "Are we?" I asked demurely. "You believe everything you read in the scandal sheets?"
Meg tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Let's cut to the chase. I am engaged to be married to Prince Harry. You know that."
"Everyone knows that," I said. "Kinda hard not to. Your face is all over the internet."
"And yet, even though you know that Harry is engaged, is taken, you are still chasing after him."
I nearly spit my beer across the table, which might not have been a bad idea. "I didn't chase after anyone. And I don't know where you get these ideas about me and Harry."
"Oh, he fully admits that you two had a bit of a fling. Just like he tells me that he is trying to get rid of you, but you aren't taking the hint. He's so nice. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings. So I offered to help him out and speak with you, woman to woman."
I blinked. She was so sure of herself, so...believable...I almost began to doubt what I knew.
"I know that Harry is a bit of a...playboy," Meg said, lowering her voice and giving me a conspiratorial smile. "He finds it hard to resist women who come on to him. But he's the 'love 'em and leave 'em' type when it comes to his indiscretions."
"Really? So when is he leaving you?" I asked.
That one caught her by surprise, but Meg was too skilled to show it for longer than an instant. "It's different with Harry and I, you see? We are going to get married. I probably shouldn't tell you this," she said, leaning forward, "but I'm already pregnant. It wasn't quite our plan, but Harry very much wants to be a father as soon as possible. He was overjoyed at the news."
"Really?" I said, deciding it was time to drop the facade of feigned innocence. "That isn't exactly the impression I get."
"I don't know what stories he's told you to string you along, but you should know the truth. He's toying with you. You'll never be anything more to him than a convenient piece of ass he looks up when he's bored. He's a prince. Royals don't marry people like you. He doesn't even want to be seen in public with someone like you, does he? You're a polo groom, a servant—a servant for horses! If you think that there is anything between you two other than casual sex you are deluding yourself."
I leaned back against the seat, smiling as her control and fake concern began to slip away. "If someone in this booth is delusional, it isn't me."
"I'm trying to help you out, Samantha," Meg said. "So you can take your leave with dignity, while you still have good memories of the experience."
I just shook my head in disbelief. "You came here to try to convince me that Harry is too chicken to break up with me? That's pretty desperate. Sounds to me like you're more afraid that he isn't going to break up with me. I wonder why that is?"
Meg looked down at her untouched beer, and when she raised her eyes again they were full of venom. "Let's make this conversation a bit simpler, shall we? What will it take?"
"Excuse me?"
"What will it take to make you return to Vancouver and let me move on with my life with Harry?" Meg asked. "I understand that you fancy yourself as some sort of fashion designer. I have many wealthy friends whose pictures are splashed all over social media. Wouldn't it make your career if someone like Amal Clooney were to endorse your designs? Or Serena Williams? Or even Oprah? Something like that would change your life. You would become very wealthy and very influential in a matter of weeks. I can make that happen."
I just stared at her.
"And of course, I could always find some investors to help you with start-up costs. In fact, I could give you an advance on that money so you could head back home and start working right away. How about half a million dollars? Tax free, of course. Totally under the table."
The only thing under the table at the moment were my hands, and they were clenched on my knees to keep them from shaking with bottled-up nervous energy. "Are you trying to...bribe me?" I asked. "Offering me a payoff to walk away from Harry? Are you crazy?"
She tapped her elegantly manicured fingers on the table top. "A million, then. I can put a million dollars cash in your hands tonight if you are on the next flight out of London."
I stood up. "We're done with this little chat."
Meg grabbed my arm, and those long nails were suddenly biting into my wrist. "No, we're not."
"Yes, we are," I said, and my voice was loud enough to alert Tom and Randa. Both of them swung around, ready to step in.
"Let's talk about what will happen if you don't take my offer," Meg hissed, her voice low enough that no one else could hear her. "I don't think you want to see your fashion career destroyed overnight. Or your life. Think about it. A few well-placed stories about you—true or not—and everyone out there will turn against you. You won't be able to leave your flat. There will be death threats against you and your family. I can make the public rally around me and riot over you. The royals will turn against you. They hate scandal. Enough stories, enough pressure from his family, and Harry will never want to see you again. Then you'll have nothing...and you'll be lucky to escape England with your life."
I yanked my arm free. "And now you resort to threats."
"They are not threats, Samantha. They are promises." Her cheeks were bright with color. "Be sensible...take the money and go. Let me help you get out of this situation in a good way."
I laughed, rubbing at my wrist. "I don't think I need help like yours, thank you. I'll take my chances with the prince."
"You're going to regret that," Meg said. "It will give me great pleasure to see you destroyed."
Randa was at my shoulder, and Tom stepped out from behind the bar, ready to escort Meg out of the pub.
"Ditto, Miss Moran," I snapped.