Page 12 of Royal Fling
Dear Lord, hewashandsome. And the way he carried himself with confidence and muscles made my stomach clench. Not to say anything of his voice, nice, raspy, and with that twang that did things to my nether regions I didnotwant to focus on right now.
“It is me, indeed,” I chuckled. “And you are?”
“That’s none of your business. What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
I crossed my hands in front of my groin, mainly to hide what effect his anger was having on me, and pursed my lips.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I said.
Erik and Yannis stepped between him and I, blocking his entrance.
Was this guy a paparazzi? I’d had my fair share of them over the years trying to get a story, find out where I’m hiding, what I’m up to, but this… this was taking it to an entirely different level.
“Of course I’m not following you. I don’t even know who you are, asshole. And can you get your goonies away from me? What are you? A drug lord or something?”
I knew better than to believe someone’s acting skills, but something told me this guy really had no clue who I was, which was the reason I gestured for both men to step to the side.
“How can I help?” I asked. “I hope you do realize this is quite the unseemly time for a visit?”
“I-I know,” he said, looking at the floor.
“I’m simply saying it because you told me I was the one who had no manners.” I didn’t need to dig the knife any deeper—the guy looked less confident now than when he’d stepped in—but I wanted to make a point.
It wasn’t that his words had hurt me, but I did want to find out what made this guy tick. Who was he? What did he want? And could I give it to him?
I shook my head mentally and returned my undivided attention to the visitors instead of whatever malarkey was going on inside my mind.
“I’m sorry. About that,” he said.
“It’s my fault,” said the woman behind him. Bethany, I assumed. “I made him come.”
I nodded and turned back to him.
“The question, however, is still why?”
Lucas—that was his name, correct?—looked up and into my eyes. There was something there. Something I couldn’t quite translate, but it made me want to embrace and comfort him.
Which was a silly notion, of course. He was an absolute stranger invading my home with utter disregard to savoir vivre. One simply did not pay visits unannounced and certainly not at midnight.
“My name’s Luke. I’m-I’m here for… for Fisayo Ojo,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
The woman looked behind me, and I heard the click-clacking of Nonny’s shoes. Lucas also looked at her, and I pivoted around myself. Perhaps Nonny could clarify who these people were.
However, her face was lighter than usual, and her eyes wide. She brought a hand up to her heart, and I caught sight of her lower lip quivering.
“It-it’s you. Isn’t it?” she asked.
And there went the tears.
I didn’t think I had ever seen Nonny cry. She was always composed and strict with all of us. Cheeky when no one was watching, but she was a strong woman, and I knew her as such.
What did I do? Had this man hurt her? Had he done something to her? And how did I make her tears stop? What kind of person could turn a goliath of a woman into a disheveled mess?
“A-are you…” Lucas whispered, and I glanced at him.
His eyes were red, too. And his lip quivered like Fisayo’s. All of a sudden, I realized what had made Nonny look so strangely familiar with her eye roll earlier today.
