Risking the Crown (The Crown 2)

“What I always wear to work,” I responded.

“You can’t play trivia in pearls and high heels. Go in my room and find a T-shirt.”

I gripped the edge of the chair. “Sir?”

“And some sweatpants or running shorts. That skirt is tight.”

I swallowed. “I’m fine. Comfortable in this. It’s part of my royal manager—”

His hand balled into a fist. “Go change, Kenley.”

I scooted from behind him and walked to the bedroom. “All right. If it’s that critical to game night.”

I closed the double doors behind me. I walked to his closet, still in disbelief he had commanded I change clothes. It wasn’t allowed for royals to see their managers out of proper attire. I was breaking protocol, let alone my own rules.

The closet smelled like him. There was an air of masculinity and cologne. For a second I took a deep breath and gave in to the impulse to think there was another reason I was about to change into the prince’s shirt.

I unbuttoned the front of my blouse and let the silk slide off my arms. I kicked off my heels and stepped out of the skirt. I hung my clothes on the back of the door with a set of wooden hangers. Dominic’s initials were carved into the top. It was strange to be standing here in only a pair of panties and bra.

I turned back to Dominic’s T-shirts.

I knew his favorite ones. My fingers traveled over the stacks of shirts. He loved the Royal Navy one the best. It was worn almost to the point of having holes in the chest. I reached for one up high. One he didn’t usually wear. It seemed slightly less personal if it wasn’t one of the regulars. I couldn’t remember a time he had worn this purple one.

I pushed up higher on my toes to reach. As I tugged on the sleeve there was a loud thump as a bottle of bourbon fell from the shelf.

“Shit.” It narrowly missed my head.

I stooped to pick it up. It was half empty. How many more of these were stashed around the apartment? I thought we had found them all. The sweep hadn’t been a very good one.

I walked to the bathroom and poured the liquid down the sink and washed the bottle out with warm water. I hid it in the trashcan under tissues. I returned to the closet and started scoping the shelves for more bottles. I checked behind hats. Behind his military medals. Behind rows and rows of royal suits. I crouched over his shoes, checking each one in case there was a bottle stashed inside a loafer.

“Holy shit.”

“Oh God,” I eked, spinning around to face Dominic.

I tried to cover myself, but I was s

pilling out of my bra, and there wasn’t much I could do. I reached for a sleeve from one of his jackets, but it didn’t do much. He had just had a full view of my ass.

“You’ve been gone half an hour. Thought I’d check on you.” His eyes were locked on my breasts. “I didn’t expect to find you trying on all my clothes.” He smirked.

I closed my eyes. “I-I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” I dropped the sleeve. If I thought his chivalrous side would kick in, I was wrong. Dominic licked his lips as I bent to pick up the purple T-shirt.

“I found a whiskey bottle,” I explained. My head popped through the shirt. “I thought I should check the rest of the closet, so you didn’t have to worry about it.”

He crossed his arms. His eyes had moved to the thin slice of fabric between my legs. I looked around for sweatpants. I hadn’t gotten that far yet when I was distracted by the bourbon bottle.

“Here.” Dominic reached for a pair in a stack next to him. “You can wear these.”

“Thank you.” I stood, holding them awkardly.

“And you didn’t trust me to rid my own closet of alcohol?” he asked.

My stomach sank. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I know you could. I just wanted to do it for you.”

He leaned into the doorframe. His broad shoulders appeared even wider in the small space.

This was almost too much Dominic. I was surrounded by his scent. Everything that was his. And him.