Page 114 of Hunters and Hydrangeas

“The gala will begin at six o’clock, with hors d’oeuvres and champagne at seven. Dinner will be served at eight. The nomination announcements will begin at nine, followed immediately by dessert.”

“Are all the princes present?” I ask, wondering just how many people will be here.

“All but Cassian.”

Her smile is tinged with judgment, but I choose to ignore it.

“Thank you for preparing our room,” Noah says, ushering her toward the door.

“Please call if you need me,” she says. “The card with my contact information is on the desk.”

When Noah closes the door, I nearly melt onto the floor. “I’m so tired.”

“It’s the middle of the night back home,” he reminds me.

“I don’t know how I’m going to function for this kidnapping.”

“How about we take a short rest?”

“Do we have time? Don’t I need to walk around the castle, looking vulnerable and lost?”

Noah’s expression darkens. “This was a bad idea.”

“I thought you liked Cassian’s plan?”

“I changed my mind halfway over the Atlantic Ocean.”

“That’s inconvenient—I’m already here. Now what?”

He rubs his neck, looking stressed.

“Never mind.” I tug on his arm, pulling him toward the bed. “Let’s get a little sleep and then talk about it.”

“That’s a good plan.”

But I pause halfway across the room, feeling like I’m going to fall asleep on my feet. “But what about our clothes for the gala?”

“Cassian said his friend would contact us when we arrived. I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon.”

That’s good enough for me. I all but throw myself onto the bed, sighing when I discover it’s as soft as it looks.

“You’re going to suffocate in those pillows,” Noah laughs.

And he’s not wrong. I fell into them face-first, and now I’m surrounded.

“I don’t care,” I say, my voice muffled.

“I care.” He uncovers me, setting all but four of the pillows on the chairs near the tea table. He then joins me on the bed, groaning when his body sinks into the magnificent mattress.

I rub my face over the pillowcase. “I understand Sophia’s thread-count needs now.”

Noah chuckles as he rolls over and pulls me into him.

I had full intentions of napping, but now his breath is on my neck, and my fangs are taking notice.

“I thought you were tired,” Noah says, probably hearing my pulse jump.

I roll over, right into his arms. “I slept a little on the plane. What about you? Are you tired?”

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