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“I prefer to think of myself as a dreamer,” Cristina said.
“Okay, I’ll give you that one.”
“How about lunch?” she asked. “I’m starving.”
“Thanks, but I already ate,” I said, gesturing to the empty See’s Candies container, then reaching over and tossing it in the trash can.
“And you don’t think that’s cosmic direction that you ate something called Almond Royal the day after talking to a prince?” Cristina asked.
“Fake prince,” I corrected. “And sorry for being such a downer. I just need one new client to save this sinking ship, to get my life going in the right direction. I don’t need any further surprises or fake princes. I stopped believing in fairy tales.”
“Chin up—you can do it,” she said, right on cue. “I have a feeling the tides are shifting for you. I can feel it.” She gave my shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Your happily ever after is right around the corner, in your career, in your love life, in everything you set your mind to. Your next big opportunity could walk through that door at any minute.” She gestured to the door, as if she were expecting someone.
Like magic, there was a knock.
Cristina’s mouth fell open as she jumped back. “See?” She clapped excitedly. “Maybe it’s Prince Charming now! Kick off one of your shoes and pretend you lost it.”
“You really need to get your fairy tales straight,” I said, rolling my eyes as I opened the door. My heart sank when I saw the property manager standing there.
Tommy Tightwad.
Okay, his real name was Tommy Tighter, but Tightwad was a much better fit. The man never smiled, didn’t know the meaning of the word flexible, and we only saw him when he was looking for money. My money.
“I’ve been trying to reach you about your late rent payment,” he said, his tone cold and unsympathetic. “It’s the third month in a row. This is unacceptable. Pay up now or you’re out.”
“Look, I know I’m behind, but I just need a little more time,” I pleaded, feeling the weight of my world collapsing in on me. “I’m just about to get a new client.”
“You brought this on yourself,” Tommy replied firmly, slapping an eviction notice down on my desk. “Be out of here by Friday, or I’ll send someone over to help you pack.” He turned and stormed out the door without saying another word.
Was that even allowed? Didn’t he have to give me notice? It looked like I was going to have to add getting legal advice to my list of things to do.
I snatched up the eviction notice and rushed after him outside. “Please don’t do this.”
“It’s done,” Tommy said.
Cristina came out and stepped closer to him. “You know what she’s been through. Do you even have a soul?”
“I have something much more important than that,” he said. “A boss who pays me to get rid of the deadweight.” He turned to leave, then stopped and placed his hands on his hips when two black Mercedes Benz SUVs pulled up in front of the office on the street. “Who the hell is this hotshot?”
The vehicles had tinted windows, making it impossible to see who was inside. Two men wearing all black and dark sunglasses got out of the first SUV, glancing around the perimeter.
They looked like security.
An impeccably dressed driver wearing dark sunglasses got out of the second SUV, looked around, then opened the back door. A dashing man stepped out, wearing all black, glancing in our direction.
Cristina gasped, then leaned closer to whisper, “Grace, I think that’s your prince!”
“Prince Oliver?” I whispered back. “That’s impossible.”
But even as I said it, I knew I was wrong.
The prince was there in the flesh.
The one I’d hung up on multiple times.
Prince Oliver sauntered over with effortless confidence, with another man who got out after him in the second SUV trailing slightly behind him. He really looked like royalty.
“Wow, he’s even more handsome in person,” Cristina swooned, not at all hiding her admiration. “What a shame the man is getting married. He’s just your type. And my type. And every woman’s type. Tall. Dark. Handsome. And look at that swagger. Good golly, Miss Molly.”
