- SNEAK PEEK -
Fergus liked to think that spending a couple of years away from the swirl of royal duties on The Isle of Alba would be good for him. It’d at least been relaxing. He eyed his door.
Molly North wasn’t the tiniest bit relaxing. He had the notion she never did anything by halves. That included flirting. As a Prince, he was used to people making a fuss over him, though it’d been impossible to tell if the person was more into his string of titles, the power he’d one day wield, his bank accounts, or any one of the other things that’d defined him since his birth.
Molly had only seen the slightly awkward fellow from 3a, with hair that needed a trim and clothes that probably wouldn’t stand up to being tailored, which meant she was interested in him.
What a terrifying thought.
He might as well get this over with. Fergus had faced much worse things than a smart, gorgeous woman at five in the morning.
He checked the peephole like he always did—there’d been a lot of intense training after the Marseilles incident—making sure it was clear. The hallway was empty. He exited, locked his door, and strode over to 3b, knocking forcefully.
He knocked again. After a second, there was muffled cursing and the door opened. Sleepy eyes blinked at him.
“Huh?” Molly mumbled, though she must have been already up, since she had a t-shirt, jeans, and one sock on. Its match dangled from her fingers. Her dark brown hair sat piled on her head, more a rat’s nest than a bun. She looked adorable.
“Good morning,” he said, striving for extra cheeriness. He couldn’t help it. Molly obviously was not a morning person, which meant she’d hate that he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. There were endless opportunities for teasing ahead. He cracked his knuckles.
Molly blinked, yawned, and wandered back into her apartment. He crossed his arms, biting back a grin as she stared at the floor.
“Can I help you?” he asked after a moment. This was too much fun.
“I’m looking for my other sock.”
“Have you tried your left hand?”
She blearily held it up. “Ah, there you are.” A few hopping steps later and she had it on. It took her two tries to get her feet jammed into her trainers, but then she was pushing past him into the hallway, muttering something about ‘too early’.
Fergus followed her down the stairs. Fergus could just hear the lecture Pike would launch into about his new neighbor. His head of security, who’d followed Fergus to Seattle out of some misguided sense of loyalty, had threatened to personally gut Fergus if he dared to get too close to someone. Pike trusted nobody, for good reason, even someone as obviously non-threatening as Molly. Fergus simply couldn’t fathom her being a honeypot sent to tempt secrets out of him. Mostly because she was too perfect. The sots behind the kidnapping attempts would send someone much more obvious, never knowing that his tastes ran to the brainy. Though Molly’s tits did make him suspicious, they looked like they’d fit in his hand with a little leftover. Just the way he liked.
Not that he was looking at Molly’s breasts, only her arse because she walked slightly in front of him down the stairs. Generous hips, lush backside—maybe the bastards were hoping he’d perish of thwarted lust. He needed to get control of himself. There were biscuits to make, dough to shape into croissants, and coffee makers that needed to be running. Fergus let them into The Good Bean. When he flipped on the overhead lights,
Molly groaned and closed her eyes. “Who invented switches,” she sighed. “Because screw them.”
- Prize One -
- Prize Two -
- Prize Three -
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