Page 5 of Royal Fling
The man looked down at my black suitcase, and I caught a glance of his bushy, thick eyebrows over the shades.
He cocked his head back up just as quickly, and his lips curved to the side.
“I think you’ll find that’s my luggage,” he said.
I wish I could pin down the accent, but it was hard. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it.
“Nuh-uh. That thing is mine, so you’d better give it back.”
The brunet guy stepped up between us as if I’d just threatened the rich man, and I huffed.
This was ridiculous.
“Can’t your boss protect himself?” I said to the big guy only to be antagonistic.
He didn’t budge.
“Open it up and you’ll see,” I shouted over the giant man’s shoulder.
The rich guy tapped him on the shoulder, and he shifted. Then he nodded to the blond guy, who went down on his knees to open my suitcase.
Of course, as he did, my polka-dotted, rainbow-colored underwear spilled out in front of everyone.
Classy.
“I think you’ll find those cheap-ass boxers belong to me,” I said with a raised eyebrow, crossing my arms to add emphasis.
The rich guy pushed his shades down a few inches and glanced at my underwear, then turned to me with a grin that made my insides groan with sin.
A pair of striking grey eyes shot me down, and I felt a stir in my pants.
Jesus fucking Christ and Virgin Mary.
This guy was hot as sin.
“I guess they are,” he said, the grin in his eyes getting bigger as he slid those glasses back up and denied those eyes from me.
The blond guy stood up and looked around him.
“Wrong carousel,” he grumbled under his breath and walked over to the one opposite which had a screen over it that read New York.
“This way, sir,” the brunet guy said, pointing the rich guy away from me, and he started to retreat.
“What? No apology? Rich dick,” I grunted.
The two figures stopped walking, and the rich dick pivoted himself around.
Uh-oh.
Was I in trouble? Had I insulted someone important?
Two
August
This was exactly why I liked traveling commercial. Well, that and sustainability. It had become a good habit since I moved to London for my studies. Keeping incognito in the biggest metropolis of Europe was relatively easy, especially if you came from a small foreign country like mine. The chances of getting recognized in the streets were minimal to none.
Even so, I did like to keep a low profile, and while one would argue wearing shades in the middle of Heathrow with my two bodyguards behind me wasn’texactlylow profile, it was a compromise. Since I graduated, Teagan liked to keep a short leash as instructed by my mother, of course.
