Tempting the Crown (The Crown 1)

“I

’m not going to be home again tonight.” Damon walked to the bedroom and closed the door. I had a second of privacy to talk to my best friend.

“Why not?”

“I’m attending a royal trip.” It sounded like the best way to put it. I certainly wasn’t going to run through the irrigation issues. Brooklyn wasn’t interested in politics.

“Holy shit, Mol. That’s crazy.” She suddenly seemed more awake.

“It kinda is, isn’t it?”

“And what about your dissertation?”

I looked at the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed it was carved with ornate designs. “It’s ok if I leave it for another day, right? I’m being spontaneous. You have to do it. I would if I could.” I wondered if she was still melancholy over the guy from gala night.

“Oh, I agree. This is totally spontaneous.”

The bedroom door opened. Damon stood, holding a small overnight bag.

“Hey, I have to go, Brooklyn. But I have my phone now.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll call you later and we can talk. You can tell me about him.” I should have listened sooner.

“Thanks, Mol. Have fun. Send me snaps.”

“I will. Bye.”

I hung up.

“Twenty-five minutes,” Damon stated.

“Right. I just need a pair of yoga pants and hair in a bun. I can do that in five.”

He eyed me. “This is an official visit from the palace. It’s going to require more than active wear. Ayla is on her way up with a few options.”

“My royal manager?” It still sounded bizarre.

“That’s the one.”

I nodded. “All right.” I started to walk past him. Traveling in yoga pants made sense to me. I had worn them on the flight from Charlotte to Freychon last summer.

Damon’s hand landed on my wrist. “Molly.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t think for a second that you aren’t stunning in glasses and yoga pants.” He winked and let me continue to the bedroom.

I blushed. I don’t know how he did that.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called.

A short woman with her hair pulled into a tight chignon entered. Her blond hair was much lighter than mine. I guessed she was maybe thirty-five. “I’m Ayla. His Majesty sent me to present a wardrobe.” She bowed and I felt completely out of place.

I shook my head, trying to convey that protocol was unnecessary with me. I didn’t have an ounce of royal blood.