Page 45 of The Princess Trap
Something had to be done. Bickering was one thing, but Hans was clearly still furious. Which was fair enough. If Ruben had listened to him from the start, none of this would be happening.
He wandered down the hall, forcing his mind to focus on simpler topics—like the meeting he’d just had with a local headteacher. He didn’t want to speak too soon, but he rather thought he’d found another partner for his scholarship scheme here in Helgmøre.
His trust had six international branches—so far—and he’d started offering scholarships nationally just last year. It was going well and growing fast. So he’d turned his sights to the U.K., his second home…
And found Cherry. Cherry whose laughter floated down the hall like music. Ruben’s focus danced away, and his mind became a whirlpool of fantasy and memory, the two intertwined like lovers. Cherry in the dark, touching him out of kindness, became Cherry in the daylight, touching him because she simply couldn’t stop.
Her laughter sounded like the ocean used to, when Ruben was a kid and his parents would take him to the coast. He’d roll down the window and listen eagerly for that distant, soft rush to grow louder and more powerful, excitement humming through him.
His feet followed the sound and his mind didn’t bother to argue.
She was in the kitchen, her back to him, an apron tied around her waist. The bow at her back draped over the swell of her arse and her curls bounced as she laughed. Ruben crossed his arms and leant against the doorframe, taking the opportunity to watch her undetected.
At least, he thought he was undetected. He hadn’t even noticed that Demi was in the room too, not until she said, “Hi, Ruben.” Her tone was slightly mocking, slightly smug, and when he finally placed her, standing over by the fridge, her smile was sly. Who needed little sisters when they had uppity personal assistants?
“Hi, Demi,” he sighed, just as Cherry turned around.
God, she was so fucking beautiful. She flashed him her perfect smile, the beauty pageant one, with just enough teeth and the hint of a dimple. If he’d wondered how she’d react after last night, he now had his answer: she was nervous.
Good. He was nervous too.
“Hi,” she said, sounding slightly breathless. Which, he told himself, could have nothing to do with his arrival. There was a huge mixing bowl clutched to her chest, and she was stirring its contents with alarming vigour. So maybe she’d been standing there, stirring and laughing and talking to Demi and now she was out of breath.
Or maybe she was remembering the way it felt to touch him in the dark.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He thought he managed it. So why did she look down at her bowl instead of meeting his eyes? Was that good or bad?
“Baking,” she said.
“Baking…?”
“Nothing exciting. Fairy cakes, you know.”
“Cupcakes,” Demi supplied.
“They’re not cupcakes!” Cherry smiled at Demetria,reallysmiled. Her cheeks plumped up and her dimples flashed and everything about her relaxed. “Fairy cakes are smaller. And less sweet. And just… better.”
“How canless sweetandbettercome up in the same sentence?” Demi sounded outraged.
“Subtlety is everything,” Cherry said pertly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“Iwillput icing in your hair, you know. I’ll do it.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Ruben watched them banter with an unfamiliar feeling in his gut. It took him a good few seconds to identify that feeling as jealousy.
He was losing his fucking grip. He gritted his teeth and told himself firmly not to be ridiculous. But now the little voice in his head was whispering,She’s not really yours, and Demi knows that. You have no claim on her whatsoever…
“Demi,” he said sharply. “The meeting went well.”
She put down a jug and the bottle of milk she’d been pouring into it, her grin fading as she looked up at him. “That’s… good.”
“I want them involved.”
She stared at him for a moment, her face blank. But then her lips curved into a slight smile and she said, “Want me to start on the paperwork?”
The paperwork she’d done twelve times before and could prepare in her sleep? “Yes, please.”
