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“Afraid not.” His hair was actually shorter in the picture. Dani preferred its current wavy length.
“Well, something had to be wrong with him. To be that good-looking, rich, and an actual prince? So he suffers from asshole-itis. He’s hardly unique in having the condition.”
“True.”
“And you have experience from dealing with his fellow sufferers.”
Dani nodded.
“Then keep that in mind and do what you went there to do. It’s unfortunate, but you need him more than he needs you. You’re doing this for Mela-Skin and the next phase of your life. Be nice. I’ve seen you do it. Better than most when you put your mind to it.”
“You’re right,” Dani said, thankful her friend had seen her text as the cry for help it was. She needed to be cool. To be smart. To use a little Duchess honey to get what she wanted.
“Of course I am. Now, you go back to being in the separate wing of the magnificent castle you’re staying in and I’ll head to Cecconi’s to have brunch with a producer whose breath actually does stink.” Nyla rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I hate my life.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Says you. Oh, make sure you send that pic of the grounds to Tasha so she can post it on your IG,” Nyla said, before blowing a kiss and ending the call.
Dani braced her palms against the railing and inhaled the air. With a little time and distance, it was hard to fathom how she’d let the prince get under her skin. Sure, when he’d shoved a hand through his hair and stared off across the lake, lust had dampened her panties. The man had actual chiseled features! But it was the jet lag. It had to be. She’d get some rest and she’d feel better.
Even if it fucking killed her.
