Page 12 of Princessa
Chapter 10
They say a person’s body language is a thousand times louder than words.
Posture. Eye contact. Simple hand movements.
Grayson’s body language—the tightly clinched jaw and furrowed brows—was full-on shouting that he wasn’t comfortable dishing out the details that led him to hide out at RRF.
“Forget ridiculous rules,” he huffed. “Marrying someone I don’t love is a hard no for me.” Disdain managed to penetrate his countenance, but even that didn’t minimize his perfectly handsome face. The man was extremely easy on the eyes and I hoped to God I wasn’t sitting there salivating like a hungry wolf ready to pounce.
Once he filled me in about his unfortunate betrothal situation, my heart melted in a pool of empathy. I’d watched enough documentaries, read enough history books to know being a royal came with a shitload of responsibilities which, at times, included marrying someone you didn’t love. On the same token, I admired Grayson for wanting to take a stand against it, even though I felt like RRF was harboring a fugitive.
“You’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you’d like,” I said, reaching over the table, my hand touching his assuringly. That skin-to-skin contact sent a rush of something—electricity? fireworks? magic?—that coursed through me and straight up to my cheeks, setting them on fire. I knew my woozy-ass was blushing; Grayson had a way of making me feel buzzed—high on his almighty presence.
“I’ll be an old-ass man by the time my parents concede and finally kick that eff’d-up Andorra Rule to the moon.”
For a nano second, visions of an older Prince Grayson strutting around the resort, women of all ages still pining over him, sailed around in my head.
“Well, if you do end up staying here until you’re old and gray, we’ll graciously offer you the discounted senior-citizen room rate.”
My attempt at tempering the topic with something light and airy must have worked as we both broke out into what felt a lot like flirtatious laughter.
After dessert, the two of us continued our talk while taking a hands-almost-grazing stroll along Royale Resort Beach, both bodyguards in a very distant tow. The calm night sky above, speckled with its glimmering stars and moon, in collaboration with lambent tealights that adorned RRF’s exterior, added a touch of enchanting ambiance to the already fanciful mood. Grayson’s charm, a sweet balance of brooding and alpha, had grown on me tenfold, and I yearned to savor every second of my evening with him.
“What’s her name?” I asked, carrying my shoes by their straps; I’d never mastered how to walk in the sand while wearing high heels.
“Whose name?”
“Your intended bride?”
“Oh, you mean the woman I nicknamed The Dragon?”
I couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “She’s that bad, huh?”
“You have no idea,” he said, a trace of mirth in his tone.
Slowly, we walked in silence, seemingly absorbed in our own thoughts, kicking up sand with each step, the lulling sound of ocean waves crashing onto the shore in the distance. It was as if we both had so much to say but were afraid—or didn’t know how—to say it.
Minutes pulsed by when Grayson stopped in his tracks, grabbing hold of my hand. My stomach dipped when I faced him then flip-flopped the second he moved a few inches closer, trimming the already scarce space between us. “Look, Arabella. I know my situation is a complicated one.” A light breeze blew hair into my face and he tucked the loose strand behind my ear. The simple gesture shouldn’t have made my heart skip, my knees weaken, my body tingle, but holy hell, it did all of that, plus more. “But I think you’re a fascinating woman, one I’d really like to get to know better.”
“And by better, you mean?” I sucked in a breath, silently praying he wasn’t thinking of me as some potential hookup.
Could there be an ounce of truth to all those playboy prince rumors?
The palm of his hand rested against my cheek, reigniting tingles that had begun to simmer down. “I mean, spend time together—dinners, lunches, coffee, more walks on the beach. Anything that’ll allow us to get to know each other better.”
My reaction should have been to say no, steer clear until his situation withThe Dragonwent from complicated to resolved because let’s face it: the last thing I needed was to come to RRF only to be cast in the middle of some sort of a royal scandal love triangle. But damn if I didn’t feel something every single time Prince Grayson was near. Hell, just one glimpse of his sexy-as-fuck-smile alone conjured up all sorts of naughty thoughts.
The last thing Lauren told me during our video chat popped into my head:You, of all people, deserve to be happy.
Grinning, I nodded and practically shouted, “Yes, Grayson! I’d love nothing more than to spend time getting to know each other better.”
“He makes me laugh, my heart bungee jump into my gut, and since we’re being honest, the guy is one heck of-a kisser.”
Sprawled on the sofa, I watched Camille float around my suite, face and eyes all aglow, giddier than a unicorn riding a rainbow. Apparently, Grayson and I weren’t the only two who’d made a connection at dinner.
“Youkissedhim?”
Camille, whose cheeks had turned a dusty shade of pink, ran her fingers over her lips as if the feel of their kiss still lingered. “Mmm-hmm”—she plopped down beside me—“and it was amazing.”
