Tempting the Crown (The Crown 1)

didn’t like the tone she took with me now. I wasn’t a royal puppet to be managed.

“The prime minister leaves tonight. You have fifteen minutes before the signing begins, followed by a joint press conference.”

I inhaled. “Can’t we push it back an hour?”

“Why would we do that?”

I liked her. I trusted her. But I would not tolerate her disrespect.

Paul met us in the hall. He grinned. “My advisor has just informed me about the ceremony.”

Now there was a damn ceremony? I eyed my impertinent scheduler.

Kenley smiled. “Thank you for participating, Prime Minister Caon. There is a royal escort who can show you to the blue ballroom. His Majesty will follow.”

“Thank you.” He reached for Kenley’s hand and kissed it just below her knuckles. He waddled after the escort.

I waited until he was around the corner.

“The blue ballroom?” I balked. Were we trying to show the world we were kissing his ass? That room was reserved for the most prestigious and regal events.

“You’ve been locked in negotiations for two days. The press has been hounding us for a statement. The blue ball room is appropriate.”

“Who made that decision?” I asked.

“Sutcliffe and I discussed it,” she reported.

I groaned. This had to stop. But I was in the middle of the fucking sandstorm. I couldn’t do anything until it was over.

“You, Sutcliffe, and I are going to have a meeting. Soon,” I warned. “But not today. Evidently I have to get through a signing ceremony and answer questions from the press.” I didn’t tack on my plans with Molly.

“Anything you need, Your Highness.”

“I need a bourbon,” I muttered.

I saw her blink. She was used to chasing drinks out of my brother’s hand.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, Kenley.” I pressed my lips into a thin smile.

“We should go.” Her eyes never looked up.

“Yes, let’s get this over with.”

18

Molly

As hours passed, I grew less intrigued and more annoyed by my summons. What was I doing here? I pushed the curtains away from the window and looked at the manicured lawns below. There was a fountain nearby that was illuminated. I was too high up to count the tiers of water that splashed into the pool.

I retied my hair bun for at least the tenth time, stabbing it with the pencil. I crossed my arms and began another lap around the apartment.

I heard the gentle bell of the elevator and stopped in the middle of my track, behind the couch. My heart sped up. My palms tingled. I waited for the doors to open.

“Who are you?”

Her voice was high. She was dressed in a long white gown that shimmered when she moved.

“I-I—who are you?” I retorted. Although, I didn’t know how much power I had to demand answers in this situation.