Page 34 of Asking Fur Trouble

Charov’s head snapped up, his blue eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, she glimpsed raw vulnerability before his expression smoothed.

“Bess.”

Her name on his lips sent shivers through her body.

“I see you could use some help with organization.” She approached the desk, already scanning the chaos with a professional eye. “This is actually my specialty.”

The advisors exchanged doubtful glances.

“Lady Bess was an insurance clerk on Earth,” Charov explained, a hint of pride in his voice. “She handled complex documentation daily.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” one advisor began, “these are matters of state?—”

“And they’re currently in complete disorder,” Bess interrupted, already sorting papers into categories. “First, let’s separate urgent from non-urgent matters. Then prioritize by deadline.” Her fingers flew through the stacks with practiced efficiency.

Charov leaned back, watching her with undisguised admiration as she transformed chaos into order. “Listen to Lady Bess,” he commanded the advisors.

Within an hour, Bess had implemented a system—color-coded folders, priority tags, and a scheduling system for meetings. When the treasury minister arrived demanding immediate attention, Bess intercepted him smoothly.

“His Majesty will review your proposal at two o’clock,” she informed him, checking the schedule she had created. “He’s currently addressing the Northern provinces’ concerns, which have a more immediate deadline.”

The treasury minister blinked in surprise but nodded respectfully.

As the morning progressed, Bess found her groove, managing the flow of people and papers with ease. It felt good—no, incredible—to be useful again and exercise the skills she had spent years refining.

During a brief lull, Charov appeared behind her, his large body radiating heat. His hands settled on her waist as he leaned down, his breath tickling her ear.

“You’re magnificent,” he whispered, his deep voice sending tremors through her. “I’ve been drowning in paperwork for days. I should’ve asked for your help sooner.”

Bess turned, finding herself trapped between his powerful frame and the desk. “You should have,” she agreed, boldly holding his intense gaze. “This is what I do.”

His eyes darkened as they dropped to her lips. “What else do you do exceptionally well, I wonder?”

Heat bloomed across Bess’s cheeks, but before she could respond, the study door opened. Charov stepped back, but the possessive look in his eyes promised they’d continue this conversation later.

Thirty minutes later, Bess had just finished sorting a stack of trade documents when a soft knock on the open door drew her attention. A man with silver-streaked dark hair and a perfectly tailored navy suit strode in with the confidence of someone who belonged within palace walls. His posture was impeccable, and his smile practiced as his gaze slid over the organized stacks of papers she had created.

“Ah, I see His Majesty is occupied with important matters.” The man bowed slightly toward Charov, who was deep in conversation with his finance minister across the room.

Bess stepped forward, unconsciously smoothing her dress. “May I help you?”

“Duke Kynon Nuele,” he said with another small bow, this one directed at her. His eyes, an unsettling pale blue, assessed her with calculated interest. “And you must be the Earth woman everyone’s talking about.”

“Bess Campos,” she replied, feeling oddly exposed under his scrutiny.

Kynon smiled, his teeth unnaturally perfect. “I had hoped to speak with our new king about an important matter, but I can see he’s overwhelmed with royal duties.” He gestured toward Charov, whose broad shoulders were now hunched over a map with three advisors. “I’ll return at a more convenient time.”

Something about the way he said it raised the hairs on Bess’s neck. She noticed he spoke just loudly enough as if ensuring that everyone would hear him being considerate.

“I’ll let him know you—” Bess began.

“No need to trouble yourself. He has so much to contend with already.” Kynon’s smile never reached his eyes. “It’s been challenging for everyone since our beloved King Sawyr passed. Such a tragedy.”

As he turned to leave, he added, “I see you’re helping our new king adjust to his responsibilities. How... thoughtful.”

The subtle condescension in his tone made Bess’s cheeks burn. Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving behind the faint scent of expensive cologne.

As she returned to her work, Bess overheard two aides whispering near the water dispenser.

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