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8
Rowan
The Prince has a nice ass.Yes, I stare at it as he leaves the room. Yes, it feels wrong.
I refuse to feel bad about it.
Letting out a long sigh, I stare at the screen on the wall.
He hated my design. Had comments about every single aspect of it, asking me to make a million little changes and a few thousand major ones. I’ll basically have to go back to the drawing board, even though I’ve spent the better part of a year coming up with this design.
Biting my lip, I glance at my phone.
Gerry: I’m sorry about those texts. I was drinking last night. Call me? I miss you.
My heart sinks. I shouldn’t ignore him, but the last thing I want to do is call Gerry and listen to his excuses about his behavior. We’ve been broken up for six months, and I know he’s been seeing other women. He was very clear when we broke up—my job, or him. I couldn’t have both.
I don’t want to give in to the temptation of calling him. Of sinking into old habits and settling for what’s comfortable. Now that I’m far away from him, I wonder what we really had. Was it just complacency? Comfort? The ease of a long relationship? The promise of stability even if we couldn’t have true love?
He was someone to throw a blanket over my legs when I was cold, but did he ever really make me feel warm?
Gerry doesn’t make my heart thump. He doesn’t make my cheeks burn. He doesn’t fill my dreams with images of his strong body on top of mine.
No, there’s another man who does that now.
I stare at the open doorway before squeezing my eyes shut.
Wrong. Bad. Stop it now, Rowan.
See? Another door the Prince didn’t bother closing. Spoiled, bratty royal. No-good jerk who doesn’t understand common decency. He’s no better than Gerry, and I’m better off on my own.
Focus on work. On my architecture firm. On the projects that will be my legacy. Take care of myself. Rely on no one else. Be a burden to no man or woman or parent. Independence.
So why is my stomach clenching at the thought of the Prince?
Ignoring Gerry’s message, I open up a browser window. I type in the Prince’s name and let my finger hover over the ‘search’ button.
Do I really want to read up on him? I vaguely remember him being in the news a few years ago. His fiancée died, or something, but I was neck-deep in my fledgling business, and my resentfulness toward Nord was at an all-time high.
The place that didn’t want me, or my mother. The land that chewed her up and spat her out.
Yet, here I am. Back for my own round of rejections.
My mouth is dry. My heart thumps uncomfortably. I finally press my thumb on the search button, but the browser goes blank. A gust of wind bangs against the windows, and the reception fizzles out.
Leaning back in my chair, I drop my chin in my chest.
I need to get out of here. The Prince has gotten under my skin, and he’s distracting me from what’s truly important—work. The project. Architecture. Designing beautiful buildings that will stand the test of time. Having a stable income that will ensure I’m never a burden to anyone, ever.
“Excuse me? Miss Reed?” A woman stands at the door dressed in a palace uniform. She has chocolate-colored hair styled in a low bun and wide, brown eyes.
I sit up. “Yes?”
“I’m Vikki. Doctor Williams asked me to come check on you.” She slips inside the door, giving me a kind smile.
“I’m okay. Just doing some work.”
Her eyes move to the screen. A smile spreads across her lips. “Is this the new design? It’s gorgeous.”
