Page 80 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

His quarters are insane.

High ceilings, a massive four-poster bed, a sitting area with a roaring fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the entire kingdom.

I walk toward them, pressing my fingers against the cool glass, taking it all in. “This is… unreal.”

Graham steps behind me, his hands skimming my waist, his lips brushing my neck. “You like it?”

I shiver, leaning into his touch. “Like it? Graham, you live in a literal fairy tale.”

He hums, pressing a slow, teasing kiss behind my ear. “Then tell me, princess—do I get to be your prince?”

I laugh softly, tilting my head to give him better access. “If you keep doing that, you can be whatever you want.”

His grip tightens slightly, his voice lower now. “Then I guess I better not stop.”

And he doesn’t.

His hands slide lower, his mouth trailing fire along my skin, and before I can even process it, I’m spinning in his arms, my back against the glass, my pulse pounding.

Graham looks down at me, his expression dark with want, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. “I want to spend the rest of my life kissing you.”

I swallow, my fingers curling into his jacket. “Then kiss me now and prove it.”

My teasing makes him chuckle just before his mouth crashes into mine, hungry, desperate, possessive. His hands grip my waist, lifting me effortlessly as I wrap my arms around him, my heart pounding in my chest.

Soon, the sun sets, and we must get ready for dinner. I stand in front of the vanity mirror, adjusting my dress.

Graham walks up behind me, fully dressed, adjusting his cufflinks in the reflection. He meets my gaze, his lips twitching.

“You look like a woman who belongs here.”

I arch a brow, smirking. “I look like a woman about to have a heart attack before dinner with royalty.”

He chuckles, stepping forward to kiss my bare shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

I exhale slowly, trying to believe him.

Because ready or not—tonight changes everything.

The dining hall is grand—almost intimidatingly so—with its soaring ceilings, golden chandeliers, and a table so long it could probably seat an entire army.

But the moment we step inside, the atmosphere is warm.

Graham squeezes my hand briefly before letting go, leading me toward his family. His mother, the former queen, rises first, a soft smile gracing her features as she steps forward.

“Sophie.” Her voice is gentle but regal, full of warmth. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

I exhale slowly, offering a respectful nod. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty.”

She laughs lightly, reaching for my hands instead of waiting for a curtsy. “None of that,” she chides playfully. “You’re family now. Call me Eleanor.”

I blink, my chest tightening at the unexpected kindness.

Then, his father, the former king, stands beside her. He carries the weight of years of power, but his eyes are filled with curiosity as he regards me.

“So,” he says, his voice deep and commanding but not unkind. “You’re the woman who stole my son’s heart.”

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