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Except…no.
Of course he knows I can hear him right now.
My body reacts, heat pooling between my legs, a tightness in my throat.
I feel a sudden thrill at the knowledge that he’s doing this on purpose, knowing I can hear him, knowing how it affects me. It’s hot, dirty, and wrong, and I can’t help but run my hand down over my shirt, my legs parting slightly.
He whispers good night to me through the wall every night—is this his way of saying good morning? He knows I can hear every heated sound that’s coming out of his mouth, probably hoping to wake me up.
That bastard. And to think I was this close to touching myself and playing along with him, my nipples already tight against my nightshirt, body feeling flushed with heat.
I get out of bed as quietly as I can, silently seething, and know that the only way to play this is to pretend that I hadn’t heard him at all.
I head into the shower and try to forget his asinine attempt…at what, even? Turning me on? Reminding me of what I’m missing? As if I didn’t know. All I had to do was sleep with him once, and then I was a goner, utterly addicted to him.
I know I sound like some obsessed woman who slept with a guy and let her feelings run away from her, immediately wanting more. I know that’s what James thought of me, at one point. But that’s not really in my nature.
Before I worked for the Fairfaxes, I was an au pair and a nanny for a lot of aristocratic and royal-adjacent families around Europe. Back then, my duties were very typical and I always had evenings and weekends off, unless there was a special event. I had all the time in the world to date, but I just…didn’t. Not to say I never went on dates. I did. They just rarely went anywhere. If I was lucky it ended with a one-night stand, but even the guys who were the best in bed weren’t really worth calling the next day. There was no one I wanted to let into my life. No one I wanted to open my heart to. Even friendships were tricky for me as I’m never sure of people’s true intentions. You learn to distrust people as a whole when you’ve been burned before.
Then I got the job for Eddie and Monica, and things changed. Suddenly the freedom I had was gone. I went from being a nobody, gallivanting around London by myself, to being the nanny for the most adored and photographed baby in the entire country, maybe even the entire world. Suddenly everyone knew who I was. They knew every detail about me, from how my parents died when I was eight, to how my grandmother raised me by herself in Todalen, to who I was not dating.
It made me a shut-in, and I was already antisocial to begin with. I didn’t even want to go out when I had a day off because I knew I’d be photographed. (I know, why would they even bother with a nanny? But the UK media is batshit when it comes to anything to do with the royals.) I stayed in the palace all the time when I could, and my only real friend was Monica, but even that was always precarious because of the boss-employee relationship.
And so…there was James.
The minute I first saw him at the Fairfaxes’, all tall, with striking dark brows, amazing hair, witty eyes, a panty-dropping Scottish accent, big hands, and a wicked smile—I knew he was trouble.
And then he smirked at me.
It was fleeting, his face quickly going back to neutral. But that smirk did me in. It was another week before we were properly introduced to each other, but even then, in the back of my head, I knew it was just the beginning.
After that, the two of us skirted around each other until James invited me out for dinner in the city with him and his old friends in town, Harrison and Piper. Nothing physical happened between us, but we got closer. A lot closer.
It wasn’t just lust either. At times he genuinely seemed interested in me. He seemed to care. It’s part of his charm. He would ask about my grandmother a lot, perhaps knowing that part of me often missed my home country and the woman who had raised me.
But after a while, the sexual tension was impossible to ignore. One crisp fall night at three in the morning, the thread of tension snapped.
Next thing I knew, I was getting royally screwed by Prince Eddie’s bodyguard. After that, it was all I could think about. It’s not just that our chemistry was combustible, but that I found some kind of solace in him, as if he understood me and I understood him through just our bodies.
Or at least I thought I did. The thing about James is that being Prince Eddie’s PPO never stopped him from going out and living his life. In fact, he had a bit of a reputation for it. But me? I was blinded by lust and very, very lonely.
Which in the end made me feel vulnerable when he abruptly broke it off and started acting like I didn’t exist. The one time I let myself fall in lust. Lord help me if I ever truly fall in love.
I take an extra-long time in the shower—as if I can wash away the fact that James’s skilled hands were ever on my body—then I start getting ready for the day. I put on a thin red sweater that keeps me warm and fits nicely under my coat (also happens to make my boobs look huge), and high-waisted skinny jeans with thick fluffy socks. I blow-dry my hair straight, making a mental note to get more highlights put in at some point, then do a quick coat of makeup. I’m so used to just pulling my hair back and not wearing makeup when I’m here that I almost feel like a different person when I’ve got lipstick on.
I grab my purse and then step out into the hall.
Nearly colliding with James.
“Hey,” he says to me, his eyes taking on a mischievous slant. “How did you sleep?”
Don’t give him an inch.
“Just fine,” I tell him, offering a quick smile before pushing past him.
And he’s right on my tail as I head to the shoe rack by the front door.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
