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She notices I’m not eating yet. Not a bite until Stasi has had her fill.
She shovels a smashed cheesy potato into her mouth and has more of the fish.
“I’m serious. You should be a chef,” she cries.
The dismissive noise I give is followed with, “No.”
Stasi seems to go still in the corner of my eye, and when I look up, she’s staring at me apologetically. “Sorry. I forgot for a second that you’re a prince.”
I stare at her for a long moment and watch her nibble on her fish. After a while, she dares to sneak another glance at me. When I catch her eye, I try to focus. To not glance away out of anxiety or self-consciousness. “I prefer it if everyone would forget that fact,” I say.
Especially her. If I weren’t a prince or just a regular citizen, she’d have zero problem kicking me out. From what I’ve observed about her, Stasi would likely kick a trespasser’s ass first and call the police later.
“Sorry, did you say you wish everyone would forget you’re a prince?”
I give her a curt nod before taking her unused fork in my hand and filling it with food. “Eat.”
Stasi gives me a sour look, but that quickly changes to ecstasy I can scarcely bear to look at. She’s too beautiful for words when she’s happy.
“I’m finished.”
“That can’t be. You’ve done nothing all day but drink alcohol on the dock reading your book.”
We watch each other for a long moment, my words hanging between us.
“How do you know that?”
How should I answer that? I’m going to go with honesty. “I can see the cabin from my fishing spot.”
“You…could see me?”
“Eat,” I insist.
She puts her fork down and primly folds her hands in front of her on the table. “I told you. I’m full. And what about you? Why aren’t you eating? I can only assume you’ve poisoned the fish to get rid of me.”
I am not prepared for the barking laugh that escapes me.
“I wanted to make sure you had enough.”
“I assure you. I’m stuffed. Now, you eat, and I ask questions.”
“Still, say food tastes better outside,” I mutter as I stab the fish and potatoes with my fork. She’s not wrong. It is delicious. Especially her potatoes.
“Sorry, but you’re living with an indoor girl now, buddy,” Stasi says, leaning back in her chair and raising her arms for a wide stretch that pushes her tits up and out, exposing her pretty tummy in that half shirt she’s wearing. She may as well be giving me a lap dance with the effect that has on me.
I wish I could respond to her flirty comments with anything other than grunts and shifting in my chair.
Lucky for me, I’m busy stuffing my face. “Indoor girl, my foot. You did well enough cleaning this fish. And bathing in the sun.”
She pivots without warning.
“So, how long are you planning on staying here and hiding? Until someone else is crowned king?”
A piece of bread lodges in my throat, and I choke on it. Stasi pushes a glass of wine toward me. “Did something I say stick in your throat, Your Highness?”
Finally dislodging the piece of bread, I rasp out, “I told you to stop calling me that.”
The way she tilts her head is too beguiling. The sorceress has me cornered. “Oh, but you’re so cute when you’re flustered. So? Out with it.”
