Page 52 of The Royal Art of Revenge

ME: You better.

ME: Or I’ll run to the media with intimate details of my sordid affair with the crown prince.

FINLEY: …I believe it.

FINLEY: You’re the only person who can get away with threatening me, do you know that?

ME: Look at that. I’m starting to think you might say yes to my proposal.

FINLEY: I’ll see you soon, Hattie.

I put the phone screen down on the kitchen island and sigh. Well, if he really doesn’t mind me spending his money, then who am I to tell His Royal Highness no?

I grab the room service menu off the bar and carry it into the bathroom with me to run a bath.

What was it he said? Order whatever I want? Deal.

***

Click. Whir. Clunk.

The distinct sound of the door opening makes me pause the show I’ve been watching and turn my head to look back at the entryway. There’s another clunking noise and a groan, followed by the kind of language that is most certainly not routinely heard from royalty.

“Ooh, do your people know you swear like that, Your Royal Highness?”

Crown Prince Finley finally appears in the main living area, lugging a leather overnight bag with him. He unceremoniously dumps it on the floor by the kitchen and meets my gaze. His eyes are duller than the last time I saw him, and he looks nothing short of absolutely exhausted as he runs his fingers through his dark hair.

“No, but I’m sure they will when you’re done regaling them with tales of our steamy, sordid night together,” he replies dryly. “You are still selling that story, aren’t you?”

“That depends on what you’re here to say to me.” I fight back a smile.

“I’m half-surprised that you’re still here.” He kicks off his shoes, hangs up his jacket, and walks into the kitchen. “I thought you might have gotten fed up with waiting for me.”

“Hm? No. I’ve been waiting a week for your answer. A few extra hours is nothing, especially in this fancy room. Besides,” I say, checking my phone screen. “It’s not midnight yet.”

He checks his watch while pouring a drink with the other hand. “Made it with an hour to spare. Impressive.”

“Yet not as impressive as the ‘couple more hours’ you claimed.”

“Yes, well, I was plotting and scheming with my mother.” He looks back over at me and holds up the whiskey bottle. “Drink?”

I reach for my wine glass and hold it up. “I ordered the most expensive bottle on the list.”

“Is it worth the price?” He raises his eyebrows, lifting his glass to his lip and sipping.

“Not really.” I shrug and put the glass back down. “I just wanted to make sure you paid for my time.”

His lips pull up on one side into a smirk that makes my heart skip a little.

Oh.

That’s unwelcome.

“Don’t worry,” he says, leaning on the countertop, never taking his eyes from me. “I’m not here to waste your time, Hattie.”

“Even if you choose my sister over me, it’s not a waste of time. I get a free night in the fanciest suite I’ve ever set foot in and a rich sugar daddy is paying for all the food and drink I’ve consumed. Doesn’t sound too bad to me.” I pause, resting my elbow on the back of the sofa, and set my chin in my hand with a smile. “I’ve also been plotting and scheming, so it sounds like we’ve both had a productive evening.”

“Ah, yes. Your plan to set your family on fire. How’s that coming along?”