Page 31 of Fit for a King

I’d barely slept last night, which was becoming an unfortunate theme. The encounter in the winter garden had been bad enough, and the private library with mahjong had been worse. But yesterday morning?

Mother of God, yesterday morning had ruined me. There was no other way to say it.

I’d spent all night replaying the feel of Nicholas’s face against my fingertips…the way he’d told me to call him Nicholas…the way he’d looked at me…the hard-on in his pants.

I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful Baxter had knocked and shattered the moment or not, because I definitely would’ve made a move, and that could’ve ended disastrously. Could’ve ended my employment for sure.

Then again, what I wouldn’t give to feel Nicholas’s lips against mine…

I didn’t know how he’d been able to pull himself back together so quickly, because I’d been left there to clean up, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Have a good afternoon, Bennett. I know I will.”

I’d nearly walked into a door afterward, for fuck’s sake.

So watching Nicholas play tennis today in white shorts that showed off his athletic build and spectacular legs was like a form of torture. Seeing him so casual, the sunlight in his dark hair bringing out bits of gold that I was actively trying not to focus on…

I was professional. Really. Even if I’d never tried harder to keep my face neutral in my life.

Nicholas served, his racket slicing cleanly through the air, his shirt rising slightly to give a glimpse of toned abs that had me swallowing hard.

The marquess and his wife were a formidable duo, especially with Gabriel not taking the match as seriously as his twin. When the ball came in his direction, he swung, his racket connecting with the ball but sending it flying in the wrong direction.

In Charlie’s direction, to be exact. The footman had a pitcher in hand and was in the middle of refilling a set of glasses with water. He looked up just in time to not get hit directly in the ass, but when he tried to block the full drinks, the crystal pitcher in his hand slipped, shattering on the stone path that cut across the lawn. Water went everywhere, over Charlie’s shoes, onto the edges of the folded towels, and even on the sleeve of Nicholas’s jacket draped over the chair.

Everyone froze.

Charlie closed his eyes briefly, and I saw a silent curse form on his lips as Nicholas slowly walked toward us. Which was somehow worse than if he’d stormed over, because you could feel the disapproval radiating off him as the dread formed in your stomach.

At least, that was what I imagined Charlie was feeling in that moment.

Nicholas stopped by the broken crystal, and Charlie bowed his head. “Your Majesty, I apologize. That was entirely my fault.”

Nicholas looked down at the pitcher, then at Charlie. “Yes. It was.”

Charlie was so white he looked like he might pass out at any moment.

“That pitcher belonged to my grandfather.”

“I-I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t realize⁠—”

“Clearly.” There was an edge to Nicholas’s voice, a narrowing to his eyes that told me his irritation at Gabriel was about to explode on Charlie. I could see the way the footman braced himself, and I was bracing myself too, for him.

Had Charlie been careless and too charmed by Prince Gabriel? Yes, but it wasn’t like I had room to judge. Not after the way I’d practically climbed in Nicholas’s lap during his shave. I’d really only touched his face, but if I’d been left with him much longer, I was almost positive I would’ve ended up in his lap.

“If you spent more time concentrating on your job,” Nicholas continued, “than you did on pandering to Gabriel’s every whim, then maybe you wouldn’t now find yourself apologizing for your cloddish behavior.”

My eyes widened at the thorough dressing-down being given to Charlie. As the rest of the tennis party headed in our direction, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young man who’d tried to make my first day as hellish as this one was turning out for him.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Nicholas demanded.

“Only that it won’t happen again, Your Majesty.”

“It better not.” Nicholas angled his chin up in a way befitting his icy reputation. “You work for the King of Valoria, House of Valemont. I expect more from my staff.” He glanced over to where the rest of the group had gathered. “And so do my guests. You will apologize to them.”

Charlie’s cheeks flushed red at the order, and while his initial horror over what he’d done gave me some sense of satisfaction, his embarrassment did not. No one liked to be made a fool of, especially in front of others.

“Your Majesty,” I said, moving in beside Charlie, who would get a serious neck crick if he angled it any farther toward the ground.