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Oh, it hadn’t been nerves she’d dealt with on first meeting him—not even butterflies, for there was nothing floaty or fluttery about this. Those bats were flapping their wings in her chest again, and she willed them back to their cave. To please hang there quietly and let her get on with her work.
‘Your Highness.’ Beatrice gave a tight smile.
He didn’t return it.
She refused to blush over her comments, or even apologise. After all, it was nothing that Beatrice hadn’t already said, either to him or during endless strategy meetings with both his and the King’s aides.
‘Sir...’ Jordan came rushing in as Beatrice put down her work bag and placed her coffee on the desk. ‘I can only apologise if we were speaking out of turn...’
‘It’s fine,’ Julius responded. ‘Carry on with what you were doing, Jordan.’
As Jordan backed out, Beatrice removed her jacket and placed it over the back of her chair, then faced him. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure, sir?’
‘I thought we’d addressed the matter of titles,’ Julius reminded her. ‘We’re in your office now.’
God, why had she insisted on dropping titles? He’d agreed that when they were in her office or out walking, as they sometimes were when discussing the more sensitive subjects, she could call him by his name.
Oh, how she ached for strict protocol now. To call himsir, to be in his upstairs office, to be groomed and prepared rather than have him land here just after 8:30 a.m.
She felt unprepared—and not just because of her puffy eyes. There was something else. For the first time in her life itmatteredto Beatrice that she stood there in trainers instead of smart black ballet flats and had her hair scraped back—not that she would be correcting any of those issues with Julius there.
Beatrice closed the door and opened up the blinds, then took a seat.
He did not.
Julius remained leaning against the wall, but not slouching; she doubted a man as elegant as he even knew how to slouch. He just leaned his broad shoulders upon it and watched her. Clearly he was less than impressed by her words on arrival. She could feel the tension in the air.
Fire me, then, Beatrice thought. It would probably be easier.
She chose to reach for her coffee, but after taking a sip pulled a face. ‘I knew it.’
He sighed his impatience. ‘I don’t have time to wait for you to get another.’
‘No. It’s not that. It’s this new cup. It’s supposed to keep it warm for up to two hours...’ Her voice trailed off as he frowned. What would he know about insulated cups and the shuttle bus for palace staff?
Or it was possible he was frowning because he’d just noticed her swollen eyes.
She reached for a tissue to save herself. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Allergies.’
‘Allergies to what?’
‘Personal questions!’
She flashed him a tight smile and then reached into her bag and took out her notebook and pen, as well as her work phone, which she turned on.
‘Ooh,’ she said, as numerous alerts pinged in. ‘You have been busy over the weekend.’
Still he leant against the wall. ‘You don’t check it at all, do you?’
‘What do you mean? I have it on all the time,’ Beatrice said, scrolling through the messages, and then added, ‘during work hours.’
Her strict adherence to her own rules were, in this client’s case, more for her sanity’s sake. Constant updates on Julius and his bedroom shenanigans she so did not need! Although, Beatrice conceded, there hadn’t been anything too scandalous of late—indeed, he’d kept to his side of the deal and lain low.
His past was another matter, though... Without any new scandals to splash across their front pages, the press were digging up old ones—and there were plenty!
Nessue Respetto!
No respect. That was the subject matter of one of the many articles starting to download.
