Page 9 of Coronation
My heart kicks into overdrive. “Were you?”
He leans closer, offering me a practiced smile. “You may be the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever encountered. Tell me, how on earth do you get anything done, looking like that?”
The muscles in my belly harden, and I turn away on the pretense of watching the band. James might think he’s flattering me, and maybe I should be, but the overt attention only makes me uneasy. As if further evidence was needed to prove Davina is right, and I need to get out of my head for the night.
“It’s not as troublesome as you’d think,” I tell James at last, shoving away my discomfort as I look back at him. “Fortunately, I’ve chosen a career where nearly everyone is very beautiful, thereby making me quite ordinary.”
My host lets out an obliging laugh, one long finger tapping on the tumbler of scotch held casually in his hand. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. Though…” His words trail away as his gaze catches on something over my shoulder, and when he looks back at me, it’s with an air of poorly suppressed smugness. “I need to greet our latest arrival. Come with me, I believe you’ll know him, orof him, anyway. Then I’ll give you a tour, if you’d like.”
A personal tour from the host seems like code forlet me take you somewhere to fuck.
A quick glance around at the group we’re seated with confirms the pairing off has begun, and I certainly won’t be missed. Davina is deep in conversation with one of the CEO’s, his fingers dancing over the skin on her inner wrist, and the musician has found her way into the politician’s lap. I turn back to James, feeling distinctly off-kilter as he stands and offers his hand to help me to my feet.
In the ten minutes or so since we’ve arrived, more people have filed in. There is a group clustered by the bar beside the door, and the moment I’m standing, James is taking charge, steering me directly toward them with a hand resting on my lower back.
The way he’s touching me is unquestionably proprietary, and it seems clear our host wants me for himself tonight. Bringing me with him to greet whoever it is who just came insuggests he isn’t leaving it up to chance by letting me sit unattended for even a minute.
Do I want to sleep with him?
Everything is happening so fast. We just got here, and I’m struggling to wrap my head around the possibility as James leads me through the room, slowing here and there to greet people and introduce me as he does. He’s not the kind of person I would date, but tonight is about sex, not love. If I’m going to have a one-night stand, an attractive, confident duke seems like an ideal candidate.
There should definitely be less thinking going on right now, but I can’t seem to help but analyze the pros and cons from every angle. The decision still hasn’t quite been made as we reach the group by the bar, and several people move to the side, allowing me to see that everyone has been clustered around a single man.
A single, extremely familiar man.
I don’t know him personally. We’ve definitely never met before, but I know who he is because he’s been on the cover of every tabloid or newspaper since I arrived in Stelland, and even some back at home. I even saw him on the evening news I was watching as I got ready to come here.
All the air goes out of me, because even with all the very powerful, impressive people I’ve seen here tonight,heis in another league entirely.
The king.
Oh, holy shit.I am so far out of my depth here. What kind of party did Davina bring me to?
King Benedict of Stelland is a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair that’s just long enough to curl at the top of his neck, and a closely cropped beard. He’s unsmiling and stern, dressed as all the men here are, in a dark button-up and trousers, and if you didn’t know who he was, I doubt you’d guess the leader of an entire country.
“Your Royal Highness. Welcome,” James says as the other people around the king drift away, and he turns his attention onto us. His gaze finds the man at my side, then me, registering the briefest glimmer of surprise before lapsing into cool disinterest.
My stomach flips.
“Your Grace,” he replies grimly, holding out a hand for our host to shake. “It’s been a while.”
“It has. Allow me to introduce Miss Zelda Flowers. She’s here from California, filming a movie.”
Am I supposed to curtsy? It seems like a little much, so I go with a bob of my head, peering at him for indications I’ve done the wrong thing. “It’s nice to meet you,” I murmur, while the organ in my chest flutters like a trapped bird against my rib cage.
The king stares at me. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Flowers.”
Despite the formality of our introduction, I can tell this man has none of the pretense I’ve come to associate with men back home. Everything about him speaks to quiet assurance. King Benedict isn’t here to prove anything to anyone; he is a man who knows his place in the world and doesn’t need to posture to demonstrate it.
Considering my history, it’s no mystery why I would be interested in him. Which I am. Very much so.
Is that weird? A few moments ago, I was considering sleeping with James, but my interest in him evaporated in the time it took for me to be introduced to the wildly unpopular King of Stelland.
In that brief window of time, I also seem to have learned the difference between thinking someone is attractive and being attracted to them.
At my side, James raises his glass to the king. “Enjoy yourself,sir. I’m certainly hoping to.” Not discreetly, his hand drifts to my waist, offering me a practiced grin. With his hosting duties satisfied, he begins to guide me away, and I feel my body go stiff.
James doesn’t notice.
