Don't Promise (Don't 3)

I pointed to a bag next to the elevator. “That laptop?”

Molly ran to the entrance and bent. I smiled at the view.

She unzipped the top and pulled out the contents. “My phone!” She pressed the buttons and began chatting. I walked to the bedroom. There were a few things I wanted to include in my bag, and it was none of my royal manager’s damned business what I needed for a night with Molly.

22

Molly

Brooklyn had been sleeping, but she was glad I called. “I heard about the royal guard at the library, so I sorta figured it was him.”

“Yes. It was. And I just got my phone. I would have called sooner.” Neglecting Brooklyn was turning into a bad habit.

“It’s fine. Really. I get it. You’re with the king.”

“I’m not going to be home again tonight.” Damon walked to the bedroom and closed the door. I had a second of privacy to talk to my best friend.

“Why not?”

“I’m attending a royal trip.” It sounded like the best way to put it. I certainly wasn’t going to run through the irrigation issues. Brooklyn wasn’t interested in politics.

“Holy shit, Mol. That’s crazy.” She suddenly seemed more awake.

“It kinda is, isn’t it?”

“And what about your dissertation?”

I looked at the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed it was carved with ornate designs. “It’s ok if I leave it for another day, right? I’m being spontaneous. You have to do it. I would if I could.” I wondered if she was still melancholy over the guy from gala night.

“Oh, I agree. This is totally spontaneous.”

The bedroom door opened. Damon stood, holding a small overnight bag.

“Hey, I have to go, Brooklyn. But I have my phone now.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“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.”