looks at the profiles. Once the folder returned to her, she braced herself—and made a move completely against her nature.
“One last thing,” she said.
The room fell silent. Everyone looked at her. Panic prickled down her spine, and she fought the urge to turn and flee down the spiral staircase.
Her hands curled into fists. “It’s—not related.”
Curiosity flickered across their faces.
“I just wanted you all to know that Prince Kristof and I are . . .” Alarm fuzzed her brain. They were what? What the hell was the end of that sentence? No longer in denial? Still shaky from sex in her office? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Shit. She forbade herself from shifting or swallowing nervously as she met Kris’s widening stare.
His blue gaze hung onto hers, intense, waiting.
She could do this. Just spit it out. They all damn well knew anyway.
Running a hand over her face, she muttered, “Together.”
Kris actually laughed. A sound of disbelieving wonder that made her want to bury her face in his chest so she wouldn’t have to look at anyone.
Her team exchanged grins and offered a round of congratulations.
“Thanks.” Her cheeks flamed as she opened the door and positioned herself to one side. “But it’s not common news, so if I catch any of you gossiping about it, you’re going to wish genital regeneration was a thing.” That didn’t dim their grins, though Philip had turned away. “Alright, alright, get back to your posts and beds, and stay vigilant.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” came the single answer from a dozen mouths.
She stood firm as they departed, accepting waggling brows and whacks on the arm with reluctant good humor. Hanna lingered in front of a mountain-view window with the look of someone who wanted to talk privately. So once the study had otherwise emptied out, Frankie pressed the folders against her forehead, closed her eyes, and willed her embarrassment to back the eff off.
Then she crossed to where Philip was standing, patting down his hair to no effect.
“Hey,” she said, prodding him lightly in the ribs. “Thanks for getting out of bed.”
“Thank you for singling me out,” he said with mild indignation. “I’ll have you know Peter wasn’t wearing any shoes.”
“Snitch. Peter was smart enough to stand behind the armchair so I couldn’t see.” She reached out and tweaked the curved collar of his pajama top, aware of Kris watching and waiting behind the desk. “And it made you feel like part of the group. Don’t deny it.”
Philip sniffed, but she caught his smile.
She angled her back to Kris and whispered, “Are you upset with me?”
The advisor regarded her steadily for a few beats. “No.”
She tilted her head, not buying it. While Kris’s opinion of her mattered more than anything, the thought of Philip disapproving of her relationship turned her stomach. “He’s going to be king and you know my background. You can’t possibly approve.”
“Actually, I don’t know your background.” His brow furrowed. “You don’t have a digital footprint from before you were sixteen.”
Her gut churned as she murmured, “That tells you enough.”
“I’m not upset with you.” His quiet words were firm. “I want to see you happy.”
God. It was weird how much she liked this stuffy, stiff-spined man. “And I want to give you closure,” she said. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
The balcony collapse. The royal deaths.
“Yes.” He cast her a look of suppressed grief. “Call me if you get an update? No matter the time?”
“You’ll be the first person I call. Promise.”
“Good.” His chest filled on a swift breath in. Then he flicked nonexistent dust from his jacket sleeve and strode from the study.
And then there were three.
“Johansson.” Stifling a yawn, she turned her attention to where Hanna still waited by the window. This was the night that never ended and weariness was closing in on her fast. “To what pleasure do we owe your loitering?”
Hanna grinned. “Friendly chat?”
“That’s funny.” Frankie looked to the ceiling with a frown. “I know both those words, but they make no sense together.”
Kris gave a soft laugh behind her.
“How did the dress go?” Hanna raised a pointed brow. “Get any . . . compliments?”
“I didn’t wear it for compliments.”
“Yet I gave them to her anyway,” Kris murmured. “You can really sew, Hanna. I’m sure you can imagine how sexy she looked.”
“I don’t find anyone sexy, Your Highness,” she answered. “But I’m sure she looked gorgeous.”
Kris paused, and Frankie and Hanna met eyes as if to say, here we go.