swiped a stray piece of hair across my forehead, tucking it behind my ear, his hand lingering on my neck for a moment before he dipped his head and kissed me on the cheek.
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” he whispered into my ear, his hot breath raising goosebumps along my skin.
He stepped back, giving me one last smile before turning and walking out of the room leaving me wondering if I had just made a deal with the devil.
I didn’t sleep, how could I with that decision looming over my head. Getting involved with Freddie, even in a fake relationship, could solve one problem, but it could also created a whole slew more. It would be news, Freddie was Merveille’s most eligible bachelor, and there would be no way of keeping it quiet which, in turn, would attract the attention of my family.
I knew the other Fornette’s were in the country, they had been invited to the coronation and there was no way they would pass up an opportunity to hobnob with the royals. I had so far avoided them and there had been too much happening for them to grab any media attention. But if I were to get involved with Freddie, nothing would keep them from my door.
I loved my family, really I did, but they were all like unruly toddlers each vying for attention. My sisters spent their time trying to get the paparazzi to follow them around like a demented fan club and had outrageous Instagram accounts, each post more scandalous than the next. Both blonde and party-going-hellions they had given even the most risqué actress and pop star a run for their money. My mother was a blonde bombshell with an addiction to plastic surgery and tight, revealing dresses that were much too young for her fifty plus age. My father followed her around like a puppy, all doe-eyed and adoring and far too easily led astray by her social climbing tendencies. I had no idea how I turned out the way I did, but with two parents barely able to look after themselves and two younger sisters quickly following in their footsteps it had fallen to me to be the grown-up. And I resented it.
But they were my family, for better or for worse, and I was stuck with them. The marriage to Bradley would have given my mother what she wanted, standing in the social circles she so desperately craved, but I wasn’t prepared to pimp myself out for her lofty ambitions. If she found out about Freddie she would probably handcuff me to his bed in order to seal the deal. I couldn’t do that to him, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
My decision made, I dressed for the office. It was my first official day as the Queen’s personal assistant and everything had to be perfect. There were media photo ops, a press release, a formal lunch, an afternoon tea and a cocktail party. I really could’ve done with a decent night’s sleep, but failing that, I had my tea. The staff had gifted me with an oversize china mug that had a lid, not unlike a travel mug, for days such as these and I intended to make good use of it.
I arrived early, easy to do when you live on the same premises where you work, although the Palace was the size of a small town. Fresh flowers had been delivered to the Queen’s office and there was a pile of unopened envelopes on my desk, no doubt correspondence from various countries congratulating the Queen on her ascension. All the envelopes were made of thick, expensive stock and expertly addressed in calligraphic script. No printed label stickers for an official congratulatory card to the Queen of a small European country.
I set to work opening each one and updating a spreadsheet with details about who it was from, what the card said and if there was an accompanying gift. The Queen had been receiving gifts and well wishes for the last few months, so the spreadsheet was already filled with lines of data highlighted in varying colours signifying whether a thank you had been sent and when and what. I liked my
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” he whispered into my ear, his hot breath raising goosebumps along my skin.
He stepped back, giving me one last smile before turning and walking out of the room leaving me wondering if I had just made a deal with the devil.
I didn’t sleep, how could I with that decision looming over my head. Getting involved with Freddie, even in a fake relationship, could solve one problem, but it could also created a whole slew more. It would be news, Freddie was Merveille’s most eligible bachelor, and there would be no way of keeping it quiet which, in turn, would attract the attention of my family.
I knew the other Fornette’s were in the country, they had been invited to the coronation and there was no way they would pass up an opportunity to hobnob with the royals. I had so far avoided them and there had been too much happening for them to grab any media attention. But if I were to get involved with Freddie, nothing would keep them from my door.
I loved my family, really I did, but they were all like unruly toddlers each vying for attention. My sisters spent their time trying to get the paparazzi to follow them around like a demented fan club and had outrageous Instagram accounts, each post more scandalous than the next. Both blonde and party-going-hellions they had given even the most risqué actress and pop star a run for their money. My mother was a blonde bombshell with an addiction to plastic surgery and tight, revealing dresses that were much too young for her fifty plus age. My father followed her around like a puppy, all doe-eyed and adoring and far too easily led astray by her social climbing tendencies. I had no idea how I turned out the way I did, but with two parents barely able to look after themselves and two younger sisters quickly following in their footsteps it had fallen to me to be the grown-up. And I resented it.
But they were my family, for better or for worse, and I was stuck with them. The marriage to Bradley would have given my mother what she wanted, standing in the social circles she so desperately craved, but I wasn’t prepared to pimp myself out for her lofty ambitions. If she found out about Freddie she would probably handcuff me to his bed in order to seal the deal. I couldn’t do that to him, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
My decision made, I dressed for the office. It was my first official day as the Queen’s personal assistant and everything had to be perfect. There were media photo ops, a press release, a formal lunch, an afternoon tea and a cocktail party. I really could’ve done with a decent night’s sleep, but failing that, I had my tea. The staff had gifted me with an oversize china mug that had a lid, not unlike a travel mug, for days such as these and I intended to make good use of it.
I arrived early, easy to do when you live on the same premises where you work, although the Palace was the size of a small town. Fresh flowers had been delivered to the Queen’s office and there was a pile of unopened envelopes on my desk, no doubt correspondence from various countries congratulating the Queen on her ascension. All the envelopes were made of thick, expensive stock and expertly addressed in calligraphic script. No printed label stickers for an official congratulatory card to the Queen of a small European country.
I set to work opening each one and updating a spreadsheet with details about who it was from, what the card said and if there was an accompanying gift. The Queen had been receiving gifts and well wishes for the last few months, so the spreadsheet was already filled with lines of data highlighted in varying colours signifying whether a thank you had been sent and when and what. I liked my
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