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“Don’t make me barf.”
Lie.
My body heats up at the thought of the Prince’s hands on me. Are they as rough as he is, I wonder? Or are his palms smooth and soft? Would he grip me tight and cage me in, showing me just how wild he can be?
The Prince stares at me like he can read my mind. “Don’t kid yourself, princess. I see the way you look at me.”
“Oh, good. You really are arrogant and rude. I was worried for a second. I thought that might have been an act last night.”
Prince Wolfe tilts his head, a playful light shining in his eyes. “You know nothing about me, do you?”
“I know you enjoy being an ass.” Ahh, shut up, Rowan! This guy is literal royalty, and I’m running my mouth. Am I drunk? Can I blame this on hypothermia?
“I’m not an ass,” the Prince says, pushing himself off the doorway. His eyes grow hard. “I’m much worse than that. Now get out of bed and get dressed. The office is ready for you. I have some issues to discuss with you regarding your preliminary designs for the palace.”
“You’ve looked at my designs?” My brows tug together. Then, for the first time, I notice the dark smudges under his eyes. The drawn skin. The deep tiredness that seems stitched into his very being. Did he stay up all night looking through my work?
Instead of answering, the Prince clicks his tongue for Chief to leave the room.
“Wait!” I call out. The Prince pauses, glancing over his shoulder. I motion to my phone on the nightstand. “There’s no reception on my phone. I’d like to call my grandmother.”
“The cellular network is down on account of the storm. You can use the satellite phone once we’ve talked over the design issues,” he says, his voice hard.
Ice freezes my veins as my jaw hardens. How dare he. I grit my teeth. “You’re going to use my grandmother as a bargaining chip for your stupid design ideas? I need to speak to her. Now.”
He arches an eyebrow. I cross my arms. Tension heightens between us, and I do my best to look tough. My lips pinch together, but it’s less out of anger and more to stop my bottom lip from trembling.
The Prince stares at me for a moment, then walks away.
My heart beats erratically. I feel flushed and cold and confused.
Why is he here? This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be me and Grandma for a few weeks. She said she’d take me up the mountain in a snowmobile. I’d do some research and finalize my design, then head back home.
No Prince. No royalty. No drama.
Looking at the open door, I sigh. Of course he wouldn’t close it behind him. That would be far too considerate. Big Bad Prince Wolfe doesn’t close doors when he leaves rooms. He probably has an army of minions scurrying behind him to clean up after His Royal Jerkness. He probably expects me to kiss the ground he walks on.
Screw. That.
I refuse to curtsy for that asshole. Sure, he saved my life. He brought me in when I could have died, exposed to the elements—but he’s made me feel like absolute garbage ever since. Mocked my choice of clothing, when everyone says they’ve never seen a storm like this so early in the year. And I haven’t been able to speak to my grandmother, who was a huge reason I came up here in the first place. Yet he expects me to jump out of bed and discuss the design of the castle?
Who cares about the design of this stupid place! Even the best architect couldn’t save this gothic, dark, gloomy hellhole without the use of a very big bulldozer.
Sliding out of bed, I stomp across the room and slam the door. Letting out a long breath, I drop my chin to my chest. My body feels weak, and I’m worried for Grandma. The last thing I want to deal with is a moody prince who thinks he owns the world.
Padding to the bathroom adjoining my room, I inhale sharply. Floor-to-ceiling marble. Soft, white towels. Gleaming chrome finishes with a rain shower bigger than my head. There are luxury soaps and shampoos and conditioners, and even a brand-new electric toothbrush for me to use.
I strip off my pajamas and with them, my thoughts of the Prince. I wash all my bitterness away and tilt my head toward the stream of water, thinking of my grandmother. Everyone says she’s safe and she’ll recover. They say she had a fall, but she’s resting at the hospital with the best doctors in the kingdom. Still, I worry.
When I get out of the shower, I’ll find the satellite phone the Prince was talking about and I’ll call her. Her voice will soothe me, and she’ll tell me what I should do. I’ll make sure she’s okay, and then I’ll book the first available plane or helicopter or bus or train—whatever mode of transportation will get me out of here quickest.
Without Grandma here, I have no reason to stay. I’ll spend the next couple of days doing my research, then I’m leaving as soon as the storm lets up.
Away from this northern wasteland, and away from the Prince.
Turning the taps off, I let out a sigh. As soon as I open the shower door, my skin starts prickling with goose bumps in the cool air, and I rush to wrap myself in a giant towel. Mm…fluffy. When I open the door to the bedroom, my eyebrows jump. Someone’s been here to make the bed and bring a tray full of breakfast. Croissants, steaming-hot coffee, fresh fruit, eggs—the works.
Maybe I shouldn’t leave right away. I grin, attacking a croissant as my eye catches another bundle near the door. A big, black phone that almost looks like a walkie-talkie rests on the floor near the door. Beside it, a card with nothing but a phone number on it and one letter. W.
