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I arched a brow but managed to keep my thoughts to myself. “I thought we were in meetings all day until the end of the symposium.”
He held his glass to my lips and tipped it, forcing me to drink before he spilled it on a dress I shouldn’t have dared to wear. “All work and no play, Ms. Lawton.”
“Means the observatory gets more funding, and a chance at the best doctoral candidates before they get snapped up by someone else.”
“You’re included on that list.” He traced the rim of his glass, then sucked the droplets of champagne from his finger. “You should submit your application.”
I tore my eyes away from the sensual gesture and tried to bleach the vision of him sucking something very needy below my waist from my mind. Mercy, if he knew all the dirty ideas running through my head…
“I’m considering other offers.”
Mostly, I was thinking about getting out of Dodge before I had to see him hook up with his princess. There was zero reason for me to be so jealous about it. I couldn’t even use the excuse of not wanting to see him step out on her. She had to know the score already and was probably too well-bred to meet him at the door with a double barrel. A Texas girl would fill it with rock salt to make sure he had a good few days to contemplate the error of his ways.
Rock salt if you wanna keep him, punkin. Birdshot if you don’t. Use your mama’s rifle if he lays a hand on you with anger in his heart.
I smiled inwardly, remembering Daddy’s advice, given to me as Bobby Lee Fulton drove his old pickup up the lane to take me on my first date not a week after my sixteenth birthday.
Then again, I wouldn’t be living at the palace, so I’d get to avoid seeing the train wreck of his upcoming marriage. I’d miss Val something fierce, but maybe she’d agree to have lunch with me or something.
“I believe the deadline is at the end of this week,” he murmured, pulling me from my thoughts.
“As I said, I’m considering my options.” I blinked as his prior comment registered. “Wait, what makes you think I’d be qualified to compete for one of those fellowships? You don’t know me.”
His predatory smile sent a shiver down my spine. “Would it surprise you to know I read your curriculum vitae when my secretary suggested you as my temporary assistant?”
“Yes. I’m a housekeeper. You’re… not.”
“Neither are you.”
“Um, yeah. That’s pretty much my job title, Your Highness. So, yes, it does surprise me.”
“Call me Savva.”
“All right. Thank you.” Surreptitiously, I crossed my fingers. No way was I calling him by his given name. It was too familiar—especially since I was predisposed to dislike him. Besides, I didn’t need to add images of me screaming it while he fucked me to my spank bank.
“You graduated at the top of your class from Texas A&M, then did the same at Stanford.” He sipped his wine and studied me over the rim of the glass. “I confess, I’m curious about why you took the housekeeping position when you could have visited the observatory at your leisure.”
I took a swallow of champagne to give myself time to formulate a reply. Where the heck did he get off being perceptive and smart? It was bad enough he was gorgeous without adding intelligence to the mix.
I shook the thought away. He might have had a brain, but that didn’t make him any less a two-timing rogue. I almost called him bastard, but I liked Val too much to do that.
“As I mentioned, I wanted to meet Princess Valeriya,” I finally said. “I took a political science class for an elective a few years ago, and she fascinated me so much I jumped at the chance to meet her in person.”
“Not for a better chance at the fellowship? It seems a wasted opportunity. Why else would you befriend my mother?”
“Show me another woman who has singlehandedly kept a principality out of Russian hands during the Cold War. She’s my idol.”
“You’re equally amazing.”
“No, I’m really not.”
Chuckling softly, he drew a gentle fingertip over the line of my jaw, and my core clenched at the glancing touch. “I’m still trying to figure you out. You’re the sole heir to the largest privately held cattle operation in the world, arguably very intelligent, and beautiful. I cannot imagine a universe in which you’d willingly clean toilets.”
I blinked, honestly mystified at his confusion. “What’s wrong with cleaning toilets?”
“It’s maid’s work, and you, my dear, are not a maid.”
“Someone needs to tell my father that,” I murmured, smiling at the memory of the magnetic job board still on the refrigerator at home. “I have chores just like everyone else.”
