Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“You worked? After last night?” Her eyes bulged.

Lying didn’t feel like the right thing. My stomach twisted, but I continued to protect the truth.

“It was a rare collection,” I explained. “I thought this might be my only chance to see it.”

She sighed. “Only you would do something like that.” She eyed me suspiciously. “What outfit is that?”

I bit my lip. “Oh, it’s something D—I mean, he gave it to me.”

“Really? You look so elegant. Sexy and proper at the same time.” She winked.

I wondered if that’s what Damon had thought. I blushed, remembering our walk to the royal library. I wondered if he had discovered by now I had left. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed. He had world leaders to entertain. The house manager had made that clear.

“How was your night?” I asked.

She sighed, throwing herself back on her pillows. “Amazing.”

“That good?”

She nodded. “It was more than amazing. I wish I could relive it. Or that I had a picture. Something to remember it. Anything.”

I saw the way she looked at my clothes. I hadn’t thought of them as a souvenir, but in her eyes, they were. Proof that I had spent the night at the palace.

“I’m sorry. But you had a good time? That’s what counts, right? You checked it off your Galona bucket list.”

I wished I had something to give her. A coin from The Titan. A cocktail napkin. Something that said we had been there.

“I did. More than once.” She giggled. The curiosity was killing me. I wanted to know who it was, but unless she volunteered I couldn’t ask. I also realized that would open me up to more sharing, and I didn’t want to trade stories. “Now that you’re home safely, I think I’m going to take a nap. I’m kind of exhausted.” She smiled sweetly.

I paused in her doorway. “Brooklyn?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for talking me into it.” I closed the door behind me and left her to her nap.

13

Damon

It was dark. My tie draped around my neck. We had been at it for hours.

I motioned for the server to walk over.

“Your majesty?”

“Please bring dinner. Whatever the chef recommends,” I instructed.

“Yes, sir.” He bowed and disappeared through one of the service doors that led to a tunnel system. It wound throughout the palace, connecting rooms where no one would have imagined a link.

“Paul.” I exhaled. “We are down to three points. Let’s have a drink while we wait for dinner to arrive. We can cut one of these things during that time.”

My patience had run out. I was fucking tired of his stalling. I removed my cufflinks, shoved them in my pocket, and rolled my sleeves to my forearms. My muscles strained against the starched shirt.

I rose and walked to the standing bar, waving off one of the servants.

“Bourbon?” I offered, holding up my favorite decanter.

Paul leaned in his chair. “I remember you were a bourbon man. I seemed to remember it’s American bourbons you prefer?”