“I can think of worse ways to spend ten minutes,” she giggled, reaching for the soap.
“Not so fast, Molly Washington. It’s your turn.” The meetings could wait for the king to fulfill his duties.
This was how mornings were supposed to start.
36
Molly
I looked around for things to do to preoccupy my mind after Damon left. It was strange to have all my old things in a new set of apartments. My rooms were joined to the king’s residence. On the other side of his spare bedroom was a corridor that connected his suite to mine. I didn’t need a set of rooms, but I realized while I worked on my dissertation it was nice to have a space to spread out. I didn’t have to worry about Brooklyn stacking up my notecards.
I had left her a voicemail and sent two texts. She hadn’t responded. I’d try her again after lunch.
I had two bedrooms, a living room, dining room, an enormous bathroom, and a closet as big as a garage. There was no kitchen. Whatever I wanted came from the royal kitchen downstairs. The chefs on staff were ready to cook anything the royals wanted, no matter what time it was.
I opened my laptop. Palace cyber security was at an all-time high. One of the tech guys had to reprogram my laptop with encrypted codes so that it couldn’t be hacked when I was out. As the king’s newest advisor, that was a threat that concerned the intelligence force.
I didn’t tell them I wasn’t an actual advisor. I let them do what they needed and waited to get my laptop back.
The screen lit up and I clicked on my email. I had poured a second cup of coffee after my shower with Damon. I wasn’t sure how we had mixed being so dirty with clean, but it was a fun experiment. I giggled to myself.
I deleted a few of the coupons in my inbox. Then I saw it.
The email popped open and I read it so fast that I couldn’t process the message. I had to reread it.
“Oh my God.” I placed the mug on the desk. I couldn’t believe this. I held my breath as if that would somehow affect the contents of the letter.
It had happened. London had accepted my application.
I read the email again, much slower thi
s time.
I jumped up, throwing my arms in the air. “Yes!” I spun around.
Six weeks at the Literary Institute in London, locked in a vault with rare texts. It was a career dream. My dream. I could almost smell the pages.
But oh. Holy shit. Damon was never going to be ok with that.
And my stomach flipped as I realized that I might not be either.
***
I was positioned at one end of the dining room table. I decided this was the best place to line up the notecards. I wasn’t going to host any state dinners here. It was unused space, and from what I gathered, the apartments were closed up when they weren’t occupied.
I looked up when my new suite manager knocked.
“It’s ok, Francesca. You don’t have to knock.” I smiled.
“Ma’am, you have a visitor.”
“Oh?” I looked down at what I was wearing. Ayla wouldn’t be happy I had taken the day off to be a student.
“Princess Isabel is here.”
“Oh.”
“Where would you like to receive the princess?”