Page 12 of The Rejected King
“Interesting.” The king’s lips twitched, and he scooted forward in his chair as if his questions were important, but the twinkle in his eye said he was just trying to embarrass her.
“And how would you say you handle stressful situations?” he asked.
A puff of air escaped. “I’m great under pressure.”
“Really?” His expression turned smug.
She sat up straighter. “Yes.”
“Do you ever throw things? You know, when you’re angry?”
“Davin! What is the meaning of this?” His mother swatted him on the shoulder.
The king shrugged innocently at the queen mother. “I’m just trying to get a feel for who Miss Dutson is. I would like to know if she is the type of person who would throw something at me, like a chair or a shoe, perhaps?”
Emree gave him a pointed look. “I can assure you I only throw things at people when they deserve it.”
“I see.” He stared at her again with those unreadable brown eyes. “Have you ever heard of chair weaponry?”
“Davin what—” his mother began to say, but he silenced her with the raise of a hand.
Emree crossed her leg over her knee, refusing to let him win. “I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s the number one thing I am looking for in a Promenade Director. Someone skilled in chair weaponry.”
She raised her chin even higher. “You’re in luck, then. I’m one of the best.”
“How fitting.” He clasped his hands in front of him, forming a triangle with his arms.
“Davin, who would use a chair as a weapon? Or, for that matter, throw things? I’m very confused,” his mother said with a stern look. She turned to Emree as if trying to get them back on topic. “I’m afraid my son has completely lost his manners today. I apologize.”
“Can you think of any reason why you couldn’t work for me, Miss Dutson?” the king asked.
She could think of one very heated and passionate reason. She quickly shook her head, trying to erase the memory of their kiss. “No.”
“Then it’s settled.” The king’s stern gaze fell on her once again, and nothing about Emree feltsettled.
Had he just offered her the job?
“You start first thing in the morning,” the king said, standing.
Emree’s mouth dropped, and from the corner of her eyes, she could see the queen mother’s shocked expression as well.
“As Promenade Director?” Emree asked.
“Unless you prefer to be hired as a chair weaponry instructor,” the king said.
She stood, excitement bubbling in her chest as she bit back her smile. “You couldn’t afford me for that job.”
The king’s lips jerked. “Then we’ll stick with the Promenade Director.”
Queen Arillia stood. “Davin, are you sure?”
He reached his hand out to Emree. “I have a really good feeling about Miss Dutson.”
Emree shook his hand. She had a really good feeling too. It was warm and sent shivers up her spine. But her feeling had nothing to do with the job and everything to do with the king’s hand in hers.
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