Outside, the lights of London glittered like a minefield. And Alex smiled—a real, unguarded, politically catastrophic smile. He was the First Son. He was red, white, and blue. And he was falling, headfirst, for the prince in the grey suit.
“Caught doing what?” Alex challenged, his heart hammering. Red- White Royal Blue
Something in Henry’s expression cracked. He glanced at Alex—a real glance, not the camera-ready kind. And for a moment, Alex saw past the royal armor to the exhausted, lonely man underneath. Outside, the lights of London glittered like a minefield
The girl grabbed a white brick and slammed it into the tower’s base. “You should build something together. That’s what my mom says. Broken things get stronger when you glue them right.” He was red, white, and blue
Alex snorted. “I’m not. It was the best cake I’ve ever had.”
“It was a rather undignified way to be caught,” Henry admitted.
That night, in the solitude of his London hotel suite, Alex received an encrypted text from an unknown number. It was a photograph: a close-up of a Lego tower—red, white, and blue bricks stacked precariously high. The caption read: “I think the girl was onto something about the glue.”