It had been a struggle, but Maylee was proud of herself for keeping things going. At one point, she’d panicked to discover that the venerable Kip had double-booked Griffin to tea, so she’d had to smooth a few feathers, make some phone calls, and reschedule his appointment with his mother for the next day. She hadn’t told Griffin, because she knew he’d give her that particular down-his-nose look as if it was her fault.
But she’d managed it. She’d spent the day with her phone pressed to one ear, laptop on her thighs, and waiting in the limo as Griffin went to one social appointment after another.
It was obvious he didn’t like any of this; his mood got fouler as the day went on, though he was always polite and gracious to the people waiting for him. It was just Maylee and the driver, Mr. Sturgess, who received the brunt of his unhappiness.
Between Griffin’s appointments, Maylee had to also juggle incoming press requests to interview Griffin, more requests to visit local charities, and somehow make arrangements in regards to the wedding. She had to make calls to the palace to speak with the Royal Wedding Coordinator—who hadn’t wanted to talk to her at first, thanks to her accent—so she could find out what clothing colors should be avoided for royal appointments, and when and where the rehearsal dinners, wedding breakfasts, and the like would be held. The locations were secret, Maylee was told, because the press would get a hold of the information and descend like a horde.
She couldn’t argue with that. The moment they saw the seal on Griffin’s limo, they were followed everywhere. She really had to talk to that man about an inconspicuous ride.
But at least the worst was over and Griffin had only snarled at her once (when his tie was askew and he was about to drive up to his tea appointment). She’d fixed it without so much as a thank you from the man. Not that she blamed him—if she was feeling frazzled by his schedule, she could only imagine what it felt like to be the pony in the dog and pony show.
The grueling day was over, though, and even if she hadn’t had a chance to eat—or breathe—since the quiet breakfast, she’d gotten Griffin to all his appointments on time and looking respectable, and now they were back at the hotel. He’d disappeared into his room for the evening and that meant she was finally free to explore Bellissime.
Of course, she was so tired that all she wanted to do was take a shower and raid the mini-bar in her room to see what she could scarf down before breakfast tomorrow.
Maylee took a long, hot shower, luxuriating in the fancy soaps and shampoos that were complimentary with the room. She made sure to hide the bottles once she was done with them, so the staff would replace them daily and she could get new ones to bring home with her. Maybe Mr. Griffin wouldn’t mind if she snuck his extras, she mused as she wrapped one of the huge, opulent towels around her torso.
Humming to herself, Maylee tucked the top of the towel in at her breast and headed into her room. She moved to the bed and began to adjust her towel when she noticed the closet door was slightly ajar. With a frown, she crossed the room and went to go close it . . . but something about it nagged her, and she peeked inside it instead.
A man stood there, camera in hand. “Don’t scream,” he whispered, “I can offer you a very lucrative deal if you’re willing to work with me to get the inside story—”
Maylee slammed the closet door shut.
Then, she screamed.
Chapter Five
A bloodcurdling yell arose from Maylee’s room, shocking Griffin out of his book. He flung it aside, hopped out of bed, and bounded across the room to the door that adjoined their suites.
When he flung it open, a wet blonde wrapped only in a towel tumbled into his room, her hands going to his waist. “Man in my room,” she babbled. “There’s a man in my room!”#p#分页标题#e#
Stunned at the sight of Maylee nearly naked, dripping wet, and now wrapping her arms around his waist, Griffin remained frozen in place. Lustful fantasies bloomed in his mind, only to come skidding to a halt at her terrified sob.
A man in her room? It finally sank in. “You have a man in your room?” he repeated.
“Yes!” she sobbed, clinging to his back. “There is some weird creep in my closet!”
He patted her arm, warm, damp, and smelling like flowery soap. “Wait here,” he said. He looked around for a weapon, grabbed a lamp from a nearby table, unplugged it, jerked off the shade, and then brandished it like a bat. Then, he moved into Maylee’s room.
The closet door was shut tight. For a moment, he wondered if this was simple feminine hysterics to try and seduce him. He knew Reese had all kinds of wild stories about what girls would do to get into his bed, but Griffin had never run into such scenarios himself. Still, Maylee hadn’t seemed the type.