Crowning His Unlikely Princess

His mouth tightened as he rolled his shirtsleeves down over his muscular forearms and fastened his gold cufflinks. ‘I’ve given him your number in case mine is busy and I don’t care what I’m doing. If he calls, interrupt me.’

‘I will.’

‘How have you found Margaux?’

More sophisticated than she could ever hope to be.

‘Great. She’s very particular and thorough, and she’s been very helpful. She forwarded your brother’s speech and I’ve reworded some of the components to make it sound more like you. I sent it to your phone.’

‘Then we’re good to go.’

‘We?’ There was that word again and Cassidy pushed her glasses closer to her face with the tip of her little finger. She hadn’t anticipated that Logan would want her to go with him on an official visit. He’d been handling royal affairs since he came out of nappies, whereas the most formal occasion Cassidy had attended was her niece’s high school awards night.

‘Yes. I want you there. I need an update on the Westgate tunnel deal.’

‘Actually, I can give you that now.’ She swallowed heavily. ‘Kellard are definitely interested and I’ve arranged a tentative video conference with the trustees this Thursday. That way if it all comes off we’ll still sign off on the tender bid by close of business that day. Everyone is on standby pending your approval.’

‘And this is why I can’t do without you.’ He gave her a smile that made her breath catch. ‘Of course I approve. We can set it up at the conference room down the hallway. You’ll have to clear it with the IT depart—’

‘Already done. I’m waiting for the head of IT to get back to me about it.’

Logan nodded. ‘Let me know as soon as he does. In the meantime, pull the relevant information together and get any new figures from Accounting.’ He

glanced down at his phone, frowning. ‘What are the Cliff Notes on this speech I’m expected to give?’

‘The contemporary art movement in Arrantino and how it has influenced the direction of art on the world stage. There are also some awards to give out to the students who received grants last year.’

‘Great. I know more about tropical fish than I do about contemporary art on any stage.’

Unprepared for his sudden display of humour, Cassidy barely kept a laugh from escaping her throat. The last thing she wanted was to find her boss funny, it would only make him more appealing when she was trying to find reasons for him to be less so. ‘It sounds quite fascinating, actually. Apparently the light in Arrantino during the summertime would make Van Gogh weep.’

‘You’re an art buff?’

Cassidy instantly bristled at the implied surprise in his voice. ‘When you grow up in a small country town you become curious about everything.’

He cocked his head, studying her far too intently. ‘It wasn’t a criticism. Where you grow up doesn’t define who you are as a person.’

Doesn’t it?

Cassidy felt the knot of bitterness well up inside her at how easily the folk of her home town had judged her family as no-hopers after Peta’s pregnancy, and then her own drastic miscalculation when she’d tried to win a boy’s affection when she had agreed to send him a photo of herself in her underwear... Had she known he was going to share it with his friends...laugh about it...call her a...

She shook her head, the shame of knowing she had been as naïve as to think that one of the most popular boys at school had actually liked her for her still made her feel ill. She’d embarrassed herself and her father and the only good thing about it was that it had no bearing on her life now. No one else would ever have to know. Logan would never have to know.

Turning back to him, she reached for her handbag, feigning a lightness she didn’t feel. ‘Forget I said anything. Shall we go?’

Logan hesitated, seeming to see something in her expression that he wanted to explore, and Cassidy forced herself to remain poker-faced. It might be a new day but things had still yet to return to normal between them and she knew that was her fault entirely.

Logan frowned as Cassidy kept her attention firmly focused on her phone during the car ride to the museum. Things had yet to return to normal between them and for that he blamed himself entirely. He was just too aware of her for comfort, his senses tuned into her in a way they never had been within the structure of his glass office.

He took in her neat hair and gabardine suit. Her low-heeled shoes. She looked the same as always and yet he couldn’t get the picture of her wet and unkempt out of his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of that see-through blouse, and during the short nap he’d caught on the plane he’d dreamt of peeling it from her body.

Knowing his sudden obsession with his EA was most likely due to the tension created by his brother’s possible abdication didn’t help. Neither was clamping down on the thoughts every time they arose. It was as if his body was running on a different track from his mind and for a man used to being in control of himself and everything around him it was concerning.

Deciding that dwelling on it wasn’t going to help either, he turned his attention to the speech he needed to give, memorising the key aspects, and only glancing up when the car arrived in front of the museum. Built halfway through the last century, it was one of Arrantino’s landmark tourist destinations due to the intricately placed mosaic tiles around the outside.

His great-grandfather had commissioned it. His father had added a wing. Now he was opening another one.

Following in the old man’s footsteps?