***
They left the party about a half hour later, and Maylee was relieved to escape, despite the awkward car ride back to the hotel. Griffin was silent, occasionally fidgeting with his cufflinks.
She wished he would talk, but he seemed to already think he’d said too much. So she stared out the window and watched the night streets of Bellissime roll past. Her own thoughts were a mess, but she couldn’t straighten them out, not with him sitting a few feet from her in silence. So she touched the jewels to make sure they were still on, stared out the window, and tried not to think about how quiet he was.
They didn’t speak as they took the elevator up to Griffin’s room. The security guard posted at the end of the floor nodded at both of them. Outside of her own door, Maylee paused. Her hand touched the ridiculously expensive jewelry again. “I should give this back to you.”
Griffin took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, not glancing at her. “It’s been a long night, Maylee. I’ll collect them in the morning.”
“All right,” she said softly, and opened her door and went inside. Once it was shut, she quickly checked the room for intruders. She could have asked him, but her mind was still all goofed up when it came to Griffin, and for some reason, she didn’t want him in her room if he didn’t want her.
At least, not the real her.
Maylee looked in the mirror at her reflection. The woman who stared back at her had long, dark eyelashes and perfect, smooth blonde hair. She glittered in jewelry and wore an expensive gown that made her look like an elegant lady. It only made Maylee more confused.
Griffin had told her that he liked her tonight, even as he constantly insisted she change what she look like. How was she supposed to take him seriously even as he tried to fix her?
She carefully removed the heavy necklace and set it down on the dresser. Next, the earrings. Then, she removed the pins from her hair and shook it out. It was still too smooth and strange to be her own. So was the perfect face that stared back at her. She needed a shower.
Maylee shimmied out of the dress—no easy feat considering she didn’t have any help with the zipper. She grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom and washed her hair.
When she emerged, her face was squeaky clean, her hair was back to wet, roping curls, and she felt more like herself. She dressed in her camo pajamas and picked up her knitting and climbed into bed. She couldn’t concentrate, though. Her gaze kept straying over to the jewelry on the dresser, and her thoughts kept playing over the night.
Griffin said he liked her. He liked her smile. He liked her touch.
But did he really like her? Did he want the real Maylee? The country girl who wore camo pajamas and knitted and tried to drink out of finger bowls at fancy parties? Or did he want the smooth, elegant blonde he’d tried to make her into?
She put aside her knitting and turned off the light. Even then she couldn’t sleep. What did he want from her?
I’m not good with people.
Maylee thought it wasn’t that he was bad with people; it was that he didn’t know how to ask for things after a lifetime of having them handed to him.
And that thought made her sit upright in the bed.
He didn’t know how to ask for things. Griffin just assumed that they would naturally become his. All the nobility thought like that. He didn’t know how to ask her if she was interested in him. He’d hemmed and hawed around things tonight and eventually told her he liked her.
And that was it. He hadn’t said more. Maybe he hadn’t realized she needed to hear more?
Was that Griffin’s weird way of asking her if she liked him? If she wanted to kiss him? Simply telling her he was bad with people and leaving it out there for her to interpret?
Suddenly, she needed to know the answer to that.
She flicked on the light and jumped out of her bed, crossing the room to the adjoining door. Without stopping to think about the hour or if it was polite to do so, she knocked quickly.
There was a loud rustling on the other side of the door, and a moment later, Griffin flung it open, his eyes slightly wild, hair mussed. “Maylee! Is—is everything all right?” He pushed into her room, and she noticed he had the bedside lamp in hand, brandishing it like a weapon once more.
Oh, dear. She’d scared him. “It’s all right,” she told him. “There’s no one in my room but you.”
He exhaled slowly and then looked over at her. With a low breath, he nodded and relaxed. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, tucking her hands in and feeling a little stupid. “I shouldn’t have woken you up.”