Stealing Kisses With a King (Kings of Carolina #3)- Sylvie Stewart Page 0,65

few seconds, the ellipses appeared, telling me she was typing her response.

Tilly: First off, halleluiah! Second, did you tell him you’re in love with him?

Me: No!

Tilly: Why not?

Me: Imagine you sleep with a man, and right after, you roll over and tell him you love him.

Tilly: Right. Good call. Best not to go the psycho route.

Me: So what do I do? It’s humiliating to think he threw a pity shag my way because he likes the way I organize his files!

Tilly: Don’t look at it that way. Do a little tit for tat (sorry, I had to – LOL). Tell him you’ll leave if he stops shagging you.

Me: That’s disgusting.

Tilly: It’s either that or tell him you love him. It’s up to you.

Me: So, it’s either abandon any semblance of pride and bribe him to have sex with me or behave like a teenage girl and tell him I love him after sleeping with him once.

Tilly: Exactly.

Me: Those are horrible choices. I think I might just go back to America.

Tilly: If you do, I’m coming along this time.

Me: Then you’d best get your passport in order.

Tilly: Just one more thing… if you do decide to bribe him after all, can you have him throw his brother in for me?

I didn’t bother replying.

That had been a waste of time.

“Shower time!” I jumped at Malcolm’s unexpected re-entry into the bedroom and then had to hold my head to keep my brains from leaking out.

If I’d had my head about me more, I’m sure I would have marveled at the oddness of having Prince Malcolm walking around barefoot in my flat in just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. But the entire previous twenty-four hours had been nothing short of mind-boggling.

To recount, Malcolm had made a successful speech, we’d had sex, we’d fought, I’d drunk half my body’s volume in alcohol, I’d turned down a date with one of the wealthiest men in Dunwall, and had apparently fallen on my face before somehow agreeing to allow Malcolm to spend the night in my bed.

Apart from the speech part, if you’d told me I’d be a part of any of those things two weeks ago, I would have laughed outright. What had happened to me? I was the smart woman who never misstepped, kept her head down, and avoided situations she couldn’t predict or control. This was all the direct opposite.

Malcolm emerged from the bathroom, the sound of my running shower following him. “Up we go.” He bent as if to help me stand, but I pulled back until I sat leaning against the headboard, my knees drawn up.

“I think I need a minute.”

He chewed his lower lip and studied me for a few long seconds before appearing to come to a decision—as if he had the right to decide if I could be alone in my own room.

“All right. I’ll be in the kitchen.” He turned and left again, closing the door behind him.

I let out a deep sigh and collapsed back on the bed.

Thirty minutes later, I swallowed the last of my second cup of tea and sat back in one of my kitchen chairs feeling remarkably better, physically speaking. True to his word, Malcolm had left me alone to shower, and when I’d emerged from my room, he had the toast and tea all prepared, as well as a sports drink and a bottle of ibuprofen. I didn’t ask where he’d found the drink, not needing to know if the entire security team were aware of my drunken escapade. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Malcolm barely said a word to me while I drank and ate with my damp hair dropping dots of water on my robe and the table. He excused himself a few times to the other room to make some muffled phone calls, but I didn’t attempt to decipher anything. I was late for work, of course, but I couldn’t really bring myself to care. I should quit and return to America. Call up Phaedre Keene‘s people and try convincing them to go for the campaign. Restart my life with not a single Baxter in it.

I pushed the stray crumbs around on my plate, so lost in thought that I didn’t notice Malcolm taking the seat adjacent to me until he was fully seated with his forearms resting on the table. My body betrayed me by warming at the sight. I’d had more than one fantasy featuring those sinewy forearms. I was in such trouble.

“Okay,” he began,

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