The Billionaire Prince’s Stubborn Assistant by Leslie North Page 0,11

man of the future, and he wanted to stay that way.

“Would you like to see your rooms?” he asked and pushed the double doors open for her. He found himself unable to keep from watching the way she moved. His mouth watered, and his fingers burned to touch her.

Throwing caution out the window, he reached for her hand.

“I’ll lead the way.”

As Clementine stepped into her bedroom, she was blown away by the beauty of it. Despite Edward’s cautionary tales about the castle being rundown and in need of repair, she found it to be in fairly good condition, its characteristics well preserved. Maybe because he didn’t value history, he just didn’t see it.

“Look at the crown molding.” She marveled at the work of what must have been a master artist. Bunches of what looked like lily of the valley were etched into the wood that bordered the room. “And these casement windows.” She ran her fingers along the chipped paint on the window frames. “Are these original?”

“I believe so,” he said and shook his head, looking dismayed. “They’re terribly inefficient. That, at least, was one area where the historical society was willing to see reason, as long as the new windows look period-appropriate. I have a window company scheduled to replace all the windows next week.”

“Well, you can cancel them first thing tomorrow morning,” she said without pause, still inspecting the gorgeous framework.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Because we’re going to preserve these originals, not replace them with something modern and factory-made.”

She didn’t need to see his face to know that Edward was not a fan of her idea.

“The heating bills here are astronomical,” he complained. “Even the historical society agreed these windows are impractical. I’m not willing to budge on this one, Clem. The windows have to go.”

She spun on one foot and faced him. “Have you even looked into options for making these windows more efficient?” Her voice was even. She knew he hadn’t.

“Well…” he stumbled.

“That’s what I thought.” She rolled her eyes at this most recent display of his bias. “There are several ways to fortify these windows. We can seal them properly, double glaze them, install a special film.”

He seemed to mull over her suggestions for a moment.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just replace them?” he asked, and Clem wanted to slap him. “Do these windows make that much of a difference?”

Hottie or not, this prince was an insufferable man-child, blind to the splendor all around him. She had to admit, she’d enjoyed holding his hand on the walk upstairs, but his behavior right now reminded her of the distance she would need to place between them. “You know, Edward,” she began, “it’s almost as if growing up in the midst of this beauty has spoiled you.”

He scoffed at that. “I am not spoiled.”

“Well, you’re certainly not appreciative of all of this.” She waved a hand at the gorgeous room, spacious and more lavish than anything she’d seen outside of her studies. It was no use trying to get him to see sense. “Replacing the windows is a non-starter for me,” she said blandly. “These are worth a lot of money, actually. And they’re worth restoring. They give a feel to the castle that is altogether renaissance.”

Edward shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “If you want to sink time into fixing them, go ahead.” His nostrils flared, and his dark eyes narrowed. “I’ll leave you to unpack.”

With that he turned coldly and walked out of the room. Clementine’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She looked at the number and answered it.

“Hi, Dad,” she said.

“Everything okay, my little apricot?”

Clementine’s eyes welled up with tears at her father’s term of endearment. He always said she was like an apricot, sweet sometimes, but tart in the best ways too.

“Not really,” she grumped. “I’m stuck here with this man who cares nothing for history and worries only about future planning, budget, and energy efficiency.”

“Play nice, Clem. This job is a gold mine for the business.”

“I know, and I am,” she told him and plopped onto the four-poster bed. It felt overstuffed with the softest feathers. She pulled back the thick comforter and ran a hand across what were easily the poshest sheets she’d ever touched. “At least I get to live in the lap of luxury while I suffer through the torture of working with him.”

“Good girl,” he said.

From the background, Clem could hear Uncle Stoddard wishing her good luck on the job then blowing her a noisy kiss.

“And, Clem, you