Page 7 of Prince She Shouldn't Crave
Lena’s smile faltered. Something inside him burned with an angry heat at the look on her face. As if she’d somehow failed when, in truth, she was only trying to do her job.
She checked her phone. ‘It’s ten. Perhaps we could have a break for a few moments and resume with a new idea.’
‘A coffee would be appreciated,’ Gabe said. Preferably Irish, with a substantial swig of whisky.
‘Of course, sir.’ He liked the way she said that. The lilt of her accent. Her voice soft like the brush of a warm summer breeze against bare skin. ‘Your Majesties?’
His father shook his head. His mother declined as well. Lena went to a carafe on the sideboard. Poured a cup, added a dash of sugar to take the edge off just as Gabe liked it. Took a little biscuit in some silver tongs and placed it on the saucer then walked to his desk. Today she was in heels, and he was transfixed by the way they made her hips sway gently as she walked. Though why he was even thinking about how she moved or how the skirt of her dark suit hugged her figure so well, he didn’t dwell upon.
She was an employee, not a paramour.
Lena reached his desk and smiled as she carefully lowered the cup. The liquid inside trembled as she did, the cup overfull. As she placed it down the coffee sloshed over into the saucer, drowning the biscuit and overflowing onto the polished desktop. Her eyes widened.
‘Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry.’ The words were said with such speed they almost became one. ‘I—I—’
‘Lena, it’s all right.’ He looked through the drawers of his desk and found some unused paper napkins and began mopping up the coffee whilst she looked at his parents, him, then picked up the cup and fled the room before he could provide some reassurance.
‘That woman…’ his mother said in Halrovian, which would have been unforgivably rude if Lena had still been with them—of course, his mother was never known for being overly polite to those significantly under her on the social ladder, who she didn’t think in some way worthy ‘…is a hazard to the orderly running of your office.’
Lena was certainly something. A hazard to his equilibrium, the way she flitted about. Yet he felt strangely duty-bound to defend her.
‘She comes highly recommended. Your private secretary endorsed her credentials. As did Priscilla.’
‘Talk about handing over sceptres and crowns.’ His mother sniffed.
‘She was only asking Father to hand me a folder.’
‘What are these important documents I’m supposed to be passing to you?’
His father picked up the embossed navy blue compendium from the desktop, opened it. Flicked over the first page. Stared for a moment. Began to chuckle. Closed the folder and handed it to Gabe. ‘Indeed, most important.’
Gabe opened it as his parents looked on. Turned the page as his father had. There was a copy of a newspaper article. A headline, a picture of their greatest nemesis, masquerading as an advisor and supporter. Father to the young woman Gabriel had thought of as his girlfriend. Who’d seen fit to threaten betrayal of Gabe’s trust because she wasn’t going to end up as his queen. Awarding this man the position of Advisor of State was the price his parents had paid for his daughter’s silence allthose years ago. Except someone had scribbled on the picture in black. The man now had cartoonish horns. Dripping fangs. Flies buzzing round his head. He’d been turned into a comic villain.
Gabe shut the folder and glanced up at his father, who still looked entertained. Even his mother had a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. And there behind them, standing at the door with a faint wash of colour on her cheeks, stood Lena. Phone in hand.
Watching the scene with a look of something like guilt written all over her face.
Prince Gabriel’s gaze locked on her, cold and assessing. Something about it made her shiver, but the sensation wasn’t in any way unpleasant. What was he thinking? That he didn’t like having his photograph taken without him knowing? Or had he seen her handiwork in the folder?
Nope, surely not. There was no need for him to look inside and when she’d snapped the winning picture the folder had been closed and everyone had been…amused. Maybe they’d been laughing about her. That his employee had all the grace and agility of a giant panda.
Heat rushed to her cheeks at the mortification of that thought. Lena cursed her clumsiness at almost spilling coffee all over her employer in front of his parents. In her defence, the King and Queen weren’t an easy audience. She’d challenge anyone not to be a bumbling bundle of nerves around them, and she wasusedto royalty, given her past job. She’d despaired of getting the photograph she wanted. The one she’d imagined, an unscripted moment between monarchs and heir. If only she’d recognised earlier that all she’d needed to do was to leave the room to get the shot, it would have saved them time and a spilled drink.
Something about the realisation stung, that the only way Prince Gabriel might feel comfortable was if she wasn’t there, but she was sensible enough to know that trust took time. Anyhow, she managed to get the shot she’d been looking for. The King chuckling at something and handing the folder to Gabriel. With the Queen standing on looking benevolent. It was the perfect moment. Looking warm and genuine even though the emotional temperature in the room had been about as balmy as the snowy peaks of the Alps in the distance.
‘I think I have a photograph,’ she said, lifting her phone and wiggling it as she came back into the room. As she approached Prince Gabriel’s desk, Lena thought she heard his father mutter something that could have beenThank God, although she wasn’t one hundred per cent certain. The King and Queen turned in unison to face her with the same assessing gaze as their son. Right now, with the three of them watching her with their matching icy blue eyes, it was rather like being trapped in a blizzard. Did she stay? Did she go? She decided to address the matter directly.
‘Thank you for your time, Your Majesties. If there’s anything you’d like to talk to His Highness about in private I can…’ The looks the King and Queen gave her in that moment took Lena right back to her school days, when she was disdained by everyone for pretending not to know who her father was. It had stolen her confidence. Her voice. Instead of words, Lena pointed to the empty door and made walking movements with her fingers through the air. The King raised his eyebrows. The Queen watched on, stony.
‘We’re finished here,’ Gabriel said. ‘I’m sure Their Majesties have plenty to do today.’
Lena nodded. Curtseyed as his parents swept from the room without acknowledging her again.
After they’d left, her employer cocked an eyebrow. Then he lifted his hand and crooked his finger at her. ‘Come here, Ms Rosetti. Sit.’
There was no question of not obeying his command. Something about the way his voice was so purposeful and stern caused another shiver to skitter over her skin, goosebumps following in its wake. Once again, the whole feeling more…needy than unpleasant. Lena moved across the thickly carpeted floor. Lowered herself into the chair opposite him. What was he going to do? The King hadn’t looked upset, exactly. On the contrary, something had clearly amused him whilst she’d been dealing with the swimming saucer of coffee and drowned biscuit in the bathroom outside. Was His Royal Highness going to ask her to leave before she’d even really started this job? Her mother had always complained that she needed to comport herself better, that she was too free with her actions, didn’t think about her words.
That she was too much.
