Page 25 of Royally Rivalled

“Cool.” I copied her strangely American slang.

We left to grab the remaining supplies. She not only kept up but walked impressively fast. In heels! Maybe there was a secret princess boot camp I was unaware of. Did they do that? Train for the job? I didn’t know. I was sure it was some bullshit. I knew my sisters were always raised to learn social graces—as was I—and I knew women had it worse like that. Princesshood was a step further, right?

To her credit, Astrid kept me on my toes and stayed on her feet. She helped me lay out the tablecloth with exacting precision. I laid out the badges and anticipated happy and sad faces based on who got which committee and country. It was one of the fun things about MUN—a game of roulette. I looked over to see short Astrid struggling to put up our standing banner.

I rushed to help her. Unfortunately, she turned again, running her chest into my arm. We stood there, too close, awkward, and once more, her eyes not leaving mine. I expected a slap—even if I meant nothing by it—but she burst into giggles.

“You always end up in the worst situations, don't you, darling?”

I blanched at her use ofdarling, even in jest. Such things made meuncomfortable. Even in my dating history, I’d never let a woman call me a pet name.

Nervous, I said, “Yes. I guess. Apologies. I was here to help.”

She stepped aside, letting me fashion the banner with no protest.

“It's alright. You didn't mean it. We just seem to find ourselves always in an awkward place.”

“Bad timing, I guess?”

She shrugged. I tried not to stare at her chest, which was excellent in the shirt under her suit jacket. Just the slightest bit of cleavage greeted my gaze. With the height difference, it wasimpossibleto miss her tits. Fit and her ass fabulous, Astrid was too hot to ignore. Unfortunately, I’d learned not to shit where I ate. Bianca was a bad idea, but I wasn't teaching with Bianca. I wasstuckwith this woman twice a week, and we had already had it out for one another. I would say nothing and keep my eyes up. I'd try to keep my hands to myself—even if only to stop any involuntary nonsense.

sixteen

ASTRID

“Hello. Oh, thank you for joining!”

A ginger girl in a sharp royal blue suit approached with a leather Shalebrook portfolio.

“This is Sora Nettle. She's the Model UN president,” Parker explained. “Sora, this is Astrid. She's the other postgrad assisting.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sora said.

I shook her hand. “Yes, and you, too.”

“Now, is check-in going alright so far? You have everything?”

Parker nodded. “Good here.”

“Good. Once everyone is checked in, can you all help me out? Two of our committee members are out sick.”

She cupped her hand over her mouth and muttered, “Mono. So, we are down two people to run back and forth and give updates to the simulations. We figured you all could handle the Security Council and IAEA. I’ll leave it to you to divvy up.”

“Sure,” I agreed.

A salty look crossed Parker's face. Then, it faded. He realised he'd telegraphed hisdiscontent.

“Fine,” Parker said. “I got outstanding delegate multiple times in uni, so I can manage either.”

I so badly wanted to say, “Well, bully for you, asshole!”

I refrained.

“Here's your updated information then,” Sora handed it over. “We start at nine. Breakfast is wrapping up now. Go help yourselves.”

We thanked her, and she went off.

“You want something?” I asked. “I can run, and you can stay here?”

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