“No.”
“Not very princess-like of you.”
“I did not snort.” I could practically see her face glowing red on the other end of the line. She was so fucking adorable. “Anyway, I can’t sneak out the window. We’re on the third floor.”
“Third floor’s not that high.”
Bridget huffed. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one at risk of dying.”
“Trust me, princess. I would rather end my own life than ask you to do anything that might hurt you.”
I hadn’t meant to say those words. They just fell out, like they’d been there all along and were waiting for the right moment to make themselves known.
Funny thing was, I wasn’t upset or embarrassed, even though they came too close to a confession for comfort. They just felt right.
Everything with Bridget felt right.
“I know,” she said, so soft and warm she might as well be right there next to me, caressing me. “I trust you.”
A charged silence stretched over the line, filled with other, unspoken words waiting for their moment, and my heart thudded like it was warning me not to screw up.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” I drawled, finally breaking the tension before I did—or said—something I would regret. Something neither of us was ready to acknowledge. “From fighting like cats and dogs to fucking like—”
“Rhys.”
“What? You let me eat you out on the throne but I can’t say the word fucking?”
“You’re impossible.” Amusement softened her admonishing tone. “I—” I heard a knock in the background, followed by muffled voices. Bridget must’ve covered the phone with her hand. “Sorry, that was Sabrina,” she said, her voice clearer. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her voice softened further. “Good night, Mr. Larsen.”
“Good night, princess.”
I waited until she hung up before I ended the call.
I stood there for a long while, my mind filled with images of a certain blonde as I stared around my royal guesthouse in Eldorra and wondered how the hell I got where I was.