Page 5 of Undecided Heiress

“And if it’s not fixed?”

I smother my smirk with the wine glass, taking a slow drink. “Then, we try again tomorrow… and the next.”

“One night,” she laughs. “And I’m staying on the sofa.”

“One night. In my bed. But I’ll behave myself,” I promise.

“Fine.” She raises her indignant chin. “Clothes on. Don’t get any ideas, Your Majesty. And if this doesn’t work, we’ll part ways. We’ll chalk it up to a strange and unexpected turn of events.”

As much as I hate to agree to her terms, I can’t risk not saying ‘yes’ and having her walk out of here forever. “Okay, Miss Anna, you win. We’ll begin right after dinner.”

“Shall we shake on it?”

She reaches across the counter, and instead of shaking her hand, I bring her knuckles to my lips. Our eyes lock, and I couldn’t tear mine away if I tried. I refuse to believe she’s here by accident. Fate brought her to me, and I sure as hell am not going to let her go—book be damned.

“On second thoughts, why don’t we start right now? I’ve ordered Italian takeaway, but they’ll leave it at the door.”

“Italian?” she asks curiously, stifling a laugh.

“Yes. Would you prefer something else?”

Anna draws her lips into her mouth to smother a smile, but her eyes betray her. “No, that’s perfect.”

“We can set an alarm and?—”

She marches down the small hallway to my bedroom, and all I can do is follow. Stopping suddenly at the entry, I almost run into her. Anna’s gaze fixates on my bookshelf that spans the entire wall, floor to ceiling. “You said you don’t read.”

“I never said that; I don’t read fiction.”

She quickly turns, and with her this close, all it would take is leaning in a few inches to capture her lips with mine. My cock twitches at the thought. “Then why do you have so many books? Don’t tell me they are self-help…”

“No,” I huff with a laugh. “Though there may be a few that I’ve been gifted over the years. I don’t read for pleasure; the majority of those are textbooks I’ve collected or used in previous courses I’ve taught.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“Professor,” I correct.

Her brows pinch, eyeing me curiously. “What subject?”

“History. My doctoral work was primarily Regency England, so most of the textbooks are?—”

“Regency?” Anna turns and rushes to the bookcase, her fingers caressing the spines as she searches the titles. “Do you have anything on marrying between classes?”

Coming up behind her, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“James is a prince; Eliza is now a chambermaid or something. Could they ever get married?”

I shrug. “Not likely. Though, your story is fiction. Anyone could marry whoever they like, I suppose.”

“That should be the first step; readers will suspect something if he asks a maid to be his wife. We need to somehow make Eliza come from a prominent family, and maybe everything else will resolve itself.”

“I want you, not Eliza.” The words slip out in a low growl. “In the dream. I meant, I don’t want Eliza in the dream.”

“Only because we messed up the story. In the book, you fall madly in love with Eliza once she agrees to help you become King. It’s the perfect marriage of convenience trope.”

“What’s ‘convenient’ about any of that? An arranged, loveless marriage?” I shudder. “Sounds horrid. Sure, it was common for royalty and prestigious families in the Regency era, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“It’s quite popular in romance books, actually. So, we need to ensure Eliza comes from some sort of noble birth, and then… you woo her.” Anna pushes past me and sits on the bed, patting the mattress. “Let’s get this over with, shall we? Set the alarm for one hour? Or should we do ninety minutes to be safe?”

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