Why had her jeans decided to betray her like this overnight? This was not according to plan.
Why had her bump popped like this in only one night? This was not according to plan.
She paced in front of the mirror. Would any of the clothes in the suitcase fit her? The clothes she’d bought for the trip weren’t strictly maternity wear—mostly just clothes with extra give. The two or three maternity items she did have were in the laundry. Because of course they were.
That was how Sasha found her fifteen minutes later, pantsless and pacing, wearing her underwear and a black tank top.
“What is it, Ms. Branch?”
“None of my clothes fit.” She gestured to the jeans in a heap on the floor. “They’re too tight.”
Sasha was at the suitcase in an instant, opening it and pulling things out. “All right. Let’s solve this.”
“How are we going to solve this?”
“First things first: we need to figure out what you can wear.”
It didn’t take long.
Inside of twenty minutes, Amy and Sasha had gone through everything in the room and Sasha had brought Amy a robe to tie over her tank top.
Sasha looked at the clothes spread over the bed. “That leaves you...five outfits.”
“That’s not enough for a three-week trip. And I wouldn’t even count the yoga pants.” They’d been a last-minute addition to her suitcase on the off-chance they had a gym at the palace.
“Why the long faces?” Amy whirled around at the sound of Artur’s voice to find him leaning against the doorway, looking every bit as hot as he had when she’d first seen him at the gala. His clothes fit. Boy, did they ever.
“I’m having a bit of a...wardrobe crisis.”
He strolled into the room. “What’s the crisis?”
Amy turned to the side, highlighting her bump. “None of the clothes fit.”
Artur laughed. “That’s not a crisis. That’s only a matter of logistics.”
“Oh? Are you a logistics expert now?” Amy kept her tone light, but her heart beat fast. Was it because of Artur’s presence in the room or the fact that they had very limited time to buy her an entire new wardrobe before leaving on their trip?
“I have many talents,” he said. Even Sasha turned pink at that and turned away. Artur cleared his throat and straightened up. “I can get you some things right away. And don’t worry about the bill.” He waved a hand in the air. “I’ll get it.”
“No, no.” Amy looked at the meager pile on the bed. “That’s too much. The public can’t know about our connection when the point of the tour is for you to meet other...citizens of Stolvenia. If you outfit me for the trip, that’ll look like—”
He stepped toward her and placed a kind hand on her shoulder. “How will anyone know who bought your clothes?” She breathed him in, her heart responding with a flutter to the smile spread across his face. “I’ll send out for a few things. All you need to do is meet me in my rooms for dinner.”
“Dinner?”
Sasha was making herself scarce. “Come by at eight. It’ll be dinner and a show.” Artur leaned closer until his breath brushed the shell of her ear. “Don’t be late.”
Nothing. The city around the palace had nothing.
After Artur left her room, Amy sat down to work. But she’d been too efficient. All the details for their departure were set, and she found herself with a yawning pocket of time before dinner at eight. So she’d gone into the city center to try and find some maternity clothes on her own.
Not a single store had anything worthwhile.
She ended up in a sleeveless black dress she’d brought with her that just barely still fit, walking to Artur’s rooms with her heart in her throat. It was only dinner, and yet...
The show.