Dating Jack Benjamin means always living in the shadow of his crown. When it’s just the two of you, doors locked, the palace quiet, he’s softer than anyone could imagine. He touches your hand like it’s the only thing tethering him, whispers like confessions, and looks at you like you’re the one part of his life that isn’t performance. But then the cameras come out.

You’re watching from the side of the ballroom when he leans down, smiling too wide, pressing his lips to some debutante’s cheek. She giggles like she’s won the lottery. The flashbulbs go off, capturing the “playboy prince” in perfect form. And you can feel your stomach twist because it isn’t a cheek anymore. It’s a little too close to her mouth, a little too long, his hand settling at her waist as though he’s done it a thousand times before.

Later, you slam the door of his suite behind you. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?” Your voice shakes with jealousy you swore you’d never show. “Standing there, watching you kiss other people like it’s nothing?”

Jack doesn’t even try to deny it. He collapses into a chair, scrubbing his face with both hands. He looks exhausted, bitter. “You think I want this?” His voice is ragged, angry, but not at you. “You think I enjoy being paraded like a stallion? My father would rather I kiss a hundred women in front of the cameras than admit the truth about me.”

Jack drags himself up, steps close, and lowers his forehead against yours. His voice softens to a whisper only you can hear. “The kisses mean nothing. You’re all I have.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe. But the truth doesn’t erase the jealousy, or the ache of knowing you’re sharing the man you love with a kingdom that won’t let him breathe.