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“You’re awfully quiet,” she said, fidgeting with the seatbelt. She stopped almost immediately. “Regretting our impulsive tension release?”
“Relief, not release. And nah. No regrets.” He started the car and pulled out onto the road. “Just figuring out our next stop.”
“The hotel, right?” She looked out the window, and then looked back at him. “I’d love to stay with you again, but I can’t. I have to be up at four a.m. for a breakfast date with the Prime Minister of England.”
“No shit. He’s here?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I thought you had my schedule.”
“I do, but it just said ‘breakfast with P.M.E.’” He turned into a parking lot. “I didn’t realize that’s who it was. And besides, I’m not assigned to that one.”
“Oh. Yes. Matthew is.” She sighed. Matthew was nice. He treated her with respect. He barely spoke to her, except to ask her questions. And every time he was there…she missed Gordon. “It’ll be dreadfully dull, I’m sure.”
He laughed. Most average people would find meeting someone of such importance exciting. Thrilling. It only served to drive home the fact that she wasn’t even close to average… And she would never be his. He’d have to accept that.
Pulling into his destination, he asked, “What are you eating?”
“What?” She looked out the window, seeming to notice only now that he hadn’t taken her straight to her hotel. “I’m not.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. You are.”
“I’m not even hungry.”
As soon as she finished her sentence, her stomach growled loudly.
He cocked a brow. “Care to change your statement, Princess?”
She blushed. “Something chicken.”
“Do you like it spicy?” he asked, grinning when she looked at him with wide eyes. “Your chicken, that is.”
“S-Sure.”
He ordered them both dinner, then handed it over to her when it was given to him. She held it to her chest, watching him with an inscrutable look in her eye. “Eat with me in my room?”
“If you want.”
“I do,” she said.
“Okay.”
He finished the short ride to her hotel and got out of the car. After he opened her door for her, he took the food and motioned her inside. She smoothed her pink silk dress that probably cost an entire month of his salary… And he’d gotten her Wendy’s.
Way to fucking go, Waybrook.
“After you, Princess.”
She glanced at him as she pulled her keycard out of her purse. “Thank you for dinner, by the way.”
He juggled the food in one hand and opened the door for her with his other. “I know it’s not the same as filet mignon…”
“I despise filet mignon.” She shook her head. “So it’s more than likely better.”
“Why did you order it if you hate it?”
“I didn’t.” She punched the up button on the elevator. “George did.”
“Ah.” He leaned against the wall. “He’s that kind of guy.”
