Page 8 of The Unplanned Wedding

"It’s a quasi-royal reception,” I protest.

"Of a real-life duke. And there won’t be any of those happening again in the near future.” She nods.

"Since when do you keep track of the Royals?" I frown.

"Since one of the authors I work with is of royal blood—" She slaps a hand to her forehead. "Forget I said that."

"You’re working with a member of the royal family?" I gasp.

"Someone connected to them, and that’s all I’ll say.” She mimics zipping her lips.

"Aww, come on. Not fair. You listen to all of the news from me, and when it’s your turn to dish, you clam up. P-l-e-a-s-e?” I bat my eyelashes at her.

Her lips turn down. "It’s confidential. And it wouldn’t be fair to my author," she points out.

Zoey’s an editor with a leading publishing house. And she works on some very interesting books and personalities.

"I respect that. For what it’s worth, the project sounds very intriguing."

"It is." Her eyes grow brilliant with barely suppressed excitement. "It’s the most thrilling book I've worked on for a while. But enough about me—" She slashes a hand through the air. "Aren’t you glad I mentioned the job to you and that you got it? Although”—she looks uncomfortable— “I admit, I almost didn’t, considering I know little about Knox Davenport. I was worried that he might turn out to be obnoxious.”

Heisobnoxious, but he’s also breathtakingly gorgeous and so dominant, he makes me weak in the knees.

“But given he’s invited you to accompany him to the royal reception, it can’t be too bad, right?” She looks at me with eager eyes.

Guess I won’t tell her that he insists on calling me Kelly, even after I told him my name. And when I emailed him to ask if he wanted a note to accompany the Tiffany bracelet, he came back with: "Tell her to sod off." That was it.What’s wrong with this man?No way, could I send a note withthatmessage. Which meant, I had to make up a note from him to the woman. And it wasn’t easy.

“He’s not too bad,” I finally murmur.

My reply must not completely satisfy her, for her forehead creases. "Youaregoing to be okay with this role, right? I mentioned the job to you because I know the Davenports pay well, and you needed the work. But they don’t have the best reputation, when it comes to employee satisfaction."

That’s putting it mildly, considering some of the comments from disgruntled employees I came across during my research.

On the other hand, Knox saw merit in my suggestions related to boosting employee satisfaction. He also agreed to attend the reception. No matter that he asked me to accompany him.

“I’m happy with the role,” I say, and my voice has a ring of confidence in it this time.

I must convince her, for her shoulders relax.

It's okay to tell my best friend a half-truth, right?Iamhappy with the salary this job brings with it. I’m also hugely turned on every time I look at myboss, or smell his dark, male scent, or even think of him, but best not to sharethatwith her either.

“Who wouldn’t be thrilled to attend a royal event, hmm? Although, I don’t have anything to wear to the event.” I add that, hoping she’ll take the segue.

She creases her brow. "It’s in two weeks, isn’t it?"

“Eighteen days,” I correct her.

The invitation was sent months ago, but for whatever reason, it wasn’t delivered to him. The reply to my RSVP came today, saying they’ll be pleased to have Knox Davenport and his guest at the reception. Attached to the email were pages worth of instructions on what the etiquette at the reception was to be, including how to address the bride and groom, and the King and Queen, and the Royal Princes, who’ll all be in attendance. And a dress code, and a list of protocols related to their Royal Majesties to follow for the evening, and the schedule of events. My head was swimming by the end.

I committed as much of it to memory as I could and took printouts to study. I have yet to reply with our preferences in diet and any allergies. I emailed Knox to ask about it, but never heard back. Then, I discovered a file telling me he's allergic to mangoes. Good to know. I updated the wedding planning team, then stumbled home without bidding him goodbye.

"What are you going to wear?" Zoey asks.

"I suppose, I’ll have to pull out my fake Balenciaga black dress." I shrug.

She winces. "Isn’t that the one you picked up at the charity shop?"

"I can wear it with a jacket to work, then take off the jacket and?—"

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