Page 65 of Coronation
If harm came to her because of her association with me… I can’t even consider it. The possibility is too horrifying.
“Well, I got back from work, and there was a man waiting in my suite. He wasveryworked up, apparently you’re some kind of alien lizard being, and I need protection from being compromised by your theta wave technology,” she recounts wearily, but without even a hint of concern. “We had a good talk about it, and I did my best to validate his feelings?—”
A choked, horrified noise of disbelief comes from my mouth at this. “You did your best tovalidate his feelings? Zelda, the man was insane! He could have killed you!” I turn on my heel, striding back the way I came.
“It wasn’t that dramatic. He was only concerned.”
Both my brothers look at me as I reenter the living area. My expression must convey some of the horror I’m currently experiencing, because both are on their feet in seconds, joining me on my path toward the door. “Is security with you now?” I demand as we exit the room, the two of them falling into step on either side of me as we stride down the empty palace corridor.
“They swept the entire floor and left. Everything isfine, Ben. I was just calling to ask if it was possible for me to use the house for a few weeks. It’s pretty close to set, and I think if I change to another hotel, it will only be more of the same.”
She’s absolutely right, and I’m furious with myself for believing that sending a few members of the royal guard would be sufficient with the madness surrounding her after ourrelationship went public. For weeks now, and she’s been walking in and out of that hotel in front of dozens of cameras. The entire world knows where she lays her head to sleep every night, and it’s totally unacceptable.
“What house?” I demand as we reach the staircase, descending down toward the small, private lobby without hesitation.
“Fernmoor House,” she replies smoothly. “I liked it there, and I’m very happy to pay rent, if you’d like.”
It’s maddening how unruffled she is by this entire affair, when it feels as though I’m unraveling. The woman just arrived in her private space, only to find it invaded by a strange man with obvious mental health issues, and couldn’t sound less concerned. If anything, she merely seems a little weary of the practical moving and security considerations.
As we reach the lobby, I lower the phone to speak to the cluster of guards beside the door. “Bring the car around,” I bark, then, pinching the bridge of my nose as everyone around me scatters, I lift the phone back to my ear. “Stay at the hotel. I’m on my way; I’ll take you to Fernmoor.”
“Oh, Ben?—”
“No. Notoh, Ben. This isn’t a negotiation, Zelda. Stay where you are. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me.”
Twenty-Eight
Zelda
I’ve just finished an hour-long virtual yoga class when a heavy knock on the door signals Ben’s arrival.
When I called—after persuading the mortified security personnel that I should be the one to tell him—I’d expected a brief, practical discussion on the merits of my using Fernmoor House until filming ends.
What I got instead was the most emotion I’ve seen thus far from the notoriously grumpy king. Ben’s flip-out was more alarming to me than the situation that prompted it, and I’m still not quite able to believe it, hours later.
Pausing to glance at my reflection in the hallway mirror, I can’t help but smirk. My mood has been low for weeks, but the leggings I’m wearing are the single most flattering piece of workout attire I own, and the confidence boost is sorely needed today.
Another knock sounds, this one louder than the first, but I still take the time to adjust my ponytail and smooth down the frizz atmy temples, trying to convince myself I would do the same for anyone.
When I finally open the door, however, I falter as I find myself looking at not just Ben, but also two other men flanking him. All three are dressed casually, and all three have the same medium brown hair, broad shoulders, and dark eyes. I recognize the one to his right, who is slightly shorter than the other two and wearing a set of wire-rimmed glasses, as his younger brother Leopold. The second man is totally unfamiliar. “Um,” I falter, looking to Ben for clarification.
My heart flips at the expression I see on his face, one which seems to be simultaneously relieved and exasperated. “Zelda.”
I really need to get over the way he says my name… With difficulty, I swallow, stepping back to allow Ben and his lookalikes through. “Come in, please.”
They do, filing into my kitchen, and the three men are so large that they seem to fill the whole space. “You’re alright?” Ben clarifies, his expression tight as he looks me over, searching for signs I’ve been harmed, his gaze faltering for a second too long on the leggings. His throat works to swallow, and he seems to shake himself before dragging his eyes to meet mine again.
At his side, the unfamiliar man poorly conceals a laugh with a cough.
I should email the designer.Grumpy King Approvedwould be excellent for their sales.
Shifting my weight to my hip, I cross my arms over my sports bra. “I told you I was.”
“Yes, well,” Ben grumbles, “you also made a point of validating the feelings of an insane person who broke into your hotel room, so it seemed prudent to independently verify that.”
The man at his side, the one who isn’t Prince Leopold, clears his throat significantly.
“Hello,” I tell him, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m Zelda.”
