Just before eight a.m., we pulled up in front of the building where the press conference was being held. Jacob held my hand in the back of the limo. I could see paparazzi lining the street, getting ready to snap a photo of us. My stomach lurched, and I swallowed, glad I hadn’t had breakfast with Jacob this morning. He had insisted that I eat with him, but I refused. It was a good thing, too, because now I felt like I was going to throw up. The prince squeezed my hand.
“Before we go in, I have something for you,” Jacob whispered.
I turned away from staring at the cameras to look at him. He had moved closer to me, dropping my hand to put it behind me on the headrest. Jacob’s warmth was inviting, and I had to stop myself from leaning into him. His left hand reached into his pock
