AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I nod, too overwhelmed to answer. I remove the ring from my finger and help Nathaniel slip it onto the chain, then turn for him to loop it around my neck. My fingers drift over the fine gold chain and circle the ring that hangs like a pendant, and my stomach knots.
I glance at the glam team, gulping. “Is this… Does this happen a lot? Does the Prince…”
“First time,” the fashion guru says, running a finger over his brow to make sure the hairs are still perfectly in place. “It would appear His Highness wants you at that gala.”
I nod and watch them pack up their gear, still in shock.
Before Nathaniel leaves, he gives me one last look, pursing his lips and angling his head from side to side. “You’ll do.”
“You’re not the best at boosting people’s confidence, you know.” I arch a brow.
“Honey, all you need to do to boost your confidence is look in the damn mirror.” He pulls a card out of his pocket and leaves it on the edge of the bed, then the three of them sweep their way out of the room with all their gear. I let out a long breath, running my fingers over the velvet fabric covering my sides.
I shouldn’t like this. I should take it all off and stay home. This right here is the exact thing I hate about people like princes and dukes and Lord Birchals. The need to fix me, like there’s something wrong to begin with. Showering me with luxuries and reminding me that if not for them, this would be out of reach.
But…I spin toward the mirror and suck in a long breath. Maybe I’ve been too harsh. Wouldn’t it be okay for me to feel pretty and glamorous for a day? Can’t I just enjoy it, instead of turning every single second of every day into a political statement?
What happened between me and Liam Birchal was over a decade ago. I was a kid. My pride was wounded. Sure, since then I’ve seen a zillion problems with the monarchy. I think Nord would be better off as a republic.
Is it a betrayal of that to actually enjoy dressing up and going to a fancy event?
Conflict tugs at me. I grab my phone and start a group chat with Annie and Rhea, sending them a picture of my look.
Me: So…this just happened. Should I go to the Gala of the Press in Farcliff, or just forget about it? I can lie and pretend I’m going for work, but I’m pretty sure no work happens there.
It takes about three nanoseconds for Rhea to reply.
Rhea: Girl, GO.
Annie: Seconded. Is that even a question? DAYUM.
I hesitate as I look at their messages, a lump forming in my throat.
Me: You-know-who organized this outfit and glam squad. I feel…conflicted.
Annie: I’d like to point out that I don’t, in fact, know who.
Rhea: Can I tell her? Please?
Me: I’m going to go, but only because it’ll be a good opportunity to get more material for an article.
Rhea: Uh-huh. You just tell yourself whatever you need to tell yourself, Jazzypants. But if you don’t go, I’ll be on the next flight down to Farcliff to murder you in your sleep. And possibly to steal that dress.
Annie: Can we circle back to when you were going to tell me who your mystery benefactor is?
Me: I’ll tell you when I get back. I gotta go.
Stuffing my phone in a tiny purse Nathaniel left for me, I take a deep breath and head for the door. If I stay in this hotel room any longer, I’ll chicken out.
I exit the room at the same time as another door down the hall opens. Will steps into the hallway, his eyes sweeping over me from my feet up to my face. He takes his time looking, and by the time his gaze meets mine, a hot flush has spread over my neck.
“Jazz…” There’s a breathiness in his voice. “I thought you weren’t going to the gala.”
“Change of plans.” I give him a weak smile.
As someone who’s made a point of wearing the same clothes to work every single day—black blazer, black pants, white blouse—having a handsome man look at me the way Will is looking feels…good. It makes me feel special, even if there’s none of the attraction or electricity I feel with the Prince.
My colleague walks toward me, his eyes dropping down to my chest and back up again. I wait for a tightening in my gut, a sign that I might return his advances, but…
