“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.
“I’m Molly. Thanks for your help. I know this was last minute.”
She walked toward me with a garment bag in her arms. She draped it across the bed and unzipped the center.
“We have to work quickly. You only have a few minutes before you need to meet the car downstairs. The king is never late.”
“I’m starting to figure that out.” I looked at the outfits she had selected. I wondered how Damon had described me. How did she know my size?
“This one?” She held up a blush dress that was sleeveless and fell to my knees.
“Yes.” I took the hanger. I didn’t need to go through every dress in the collection. “I’ll change and be right out.” I wasn’t picky about clothes.
“I have pearls,” she called after me. “A gift from the prime minister.”
“Thank you.” I let the silk trickle over my head and wash down my limbs. I looked in the mirror. I had never worn anything like this dress. It wasn’t flashy or revealing. But it wasn’t so modest that I felt matronly. It was fitted with graceful lines.
I turned to observe the back. There were tiny buttons that stopped shy of my backside.
Ayla knocked. “Molly, we need to go. Does it fit?”
I opened the door. “I think so.”
“Oh, it’s perfect.” She grinned. “Here are your pearls. Turn around for me.”