The Princess and the Player (Royally Pitched 1)

Ele’s brow furrowed.

With a sigh, Robert gently took the phone from her and returned it to his pocket. “TD—Tristan Davenport. TD—here in America, a touchdown, ma’am.”

Confused, she continued to stare at him, waiting for an explanation.

“A goal in American football is called a TD.”

She rolled her eyes. “He can be so juvenile.”

“Quite,” Robert agreed.

Juvenile or not, she was desperate to see him or talk to him.

“Robert—”

“No.”

“But it’s your fault in the first place.” God, talk about juvenile. Jeez, Ele.

Robert didn’t dignify her words with a remark. Ele, feeling foolish and stupid, looked out the window. She could say she’d exhausted every avenue today. She’d tried asking nicely, pleading, cajoling, whining, and demanding. Robert refused to help her, but she needed to talk to Tristan today, and she knew just how to do it.

They pulled into the hotel parking lot thirty minutes later. Although she followed protocol, she rushed through the security checks to get to her room. Once there, she changed her clothes. She waited a bit and then picked up the hotel phone and called the front desk.

When the clerk answered, Ele said, “Margaret Smith’s room,” using the code name assigned.

Juliana picked up on the second ring.

“Can you shake Noah,” Ele asked, “and make sure Robert sees you when you come to my room?”

Jules cackled. “Does the queen wear her crown to bed?” Jules responded before disconnecting.

Ele chuckled. The three of them were convinced Queen Lilian wore her crown everywhere, if for no other reason than to assure herself that everyone she encountered would see it perched on her lovely head. Ele didn’t have to wait long for her sister to show up. And Jules did not disappoint.

“Perfect,” Ele murmured.

Jules walked in the door, a sullen-faced Robert behind her. He bowed and left the sisters alone.

“I need your clothes,” Ele explained.

Jules’s face lit up with her trademark mischievous grin. She didn’t ask questions or hesitate. She stripped out of her fuchsia joggers, black sweatshirt, and black-and-pink trainers. Ele did the same, shucking her flannel pajama pants and tank top. They switched. When Ele was dressed, Jules circled her.

“Sit,” she said, pointing to the sofa. “Let me get your hair right.”

Ele’s hair was still in an elegant chignon from their appearance earlier. Jules made quick work of the pins and brushed her fingers through Ele’s hair. She pulled it up into a ponytail and dropped the hat on her head.

“I wore it low and gave Robert the usual hard time, so you should be good to waltz out of here.”

Ele nodded. She stood up and took off for the door. Jules grabbed her arm before she could grasp the handle.

“Are you sure about this?” Juliana asked, her features creased with worry.

Up until the moment Jules had asked the question, Ele hadn’t even given it any thought. She would be going to a different floor of the hotel. She didn’t even have to walk outside. There wasn’t anything to be worried about—no unknown elements, no unidentified people. She just needed to talk to Tristan.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Do you know where to go?”

“Yes. Robert briefed me on evacuation routes before we arrived. I know where I need to go.”