“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.”
Eighteen
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.
Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “Princess Isabel.”
Shit. Holy shit.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I cringed.
She placed a hand on her hip. “I take it you know where my brother is?”
“Actually I don’t.” I rounded the couch. “I’m Molly.” I extended my hand.
She looked at it. I didn’t know if I had just made a royal faux paus, but she took it with a mild shake.
“Nice to meet you, Molly.”
I smiled. “You don’t know where he is either?”
“I came straight from Sangreaux. I haven’t even changed. I need to discuss a few domestic matters with him.” She walked to the bar, letting the train on her dress slide across the floor.
I could see traces of Damon’s features. The dark hair and dark eyes. But Isabel had a certain grace, as if she floated on her designer shoes. I had to remind myself not to stare.
“Drink?” she offered.