They may think the issue is resolved, but my heart pounds harshly against my chest as I stride hastily from the room.
Jessica isn’t going anywhere.
Chapter Fifteen
Jessica
Waking up in my suite at the Northern Crown was both thrilling and disorienting. Thrilling because the suite is the biggest, most opulent hotel room I’ve ever stayed in, and that says a lot considering that once or twice Christian has hosted private gatherings in the suites at the Purple Swan; disorienting because, for at least a full minute, I cannot figure out where I am.
Then it comes flooding back to me: the last-minute rushed flight across the Atlantic, the fairy-tale drive across the rolling hillsides between the airport and the sparkling capitol city of Sainthall, Alec leading me by the hand up to the Royal Suite on the top floor of the Northern Crown.
“It’s not royal property,” he explained, as he swiped the key card into the reader on the door. “In the U.S., this would be the presidential suite.” I nodded as he spoke, taking it all in.
This trip is my first time outside the continental United States, and everything seems so fresh and new that I am overflowing with excitement. Even the food Alec had sent up so we could enjoy a lunch together before he made his way back to the palace seemed twice as delicious as anything I’ve ever tasted.
Maybe it was just the exhaustion from twelve hours of travel combined with the exhilaration of being with a prince that made everything seem so damned other-worldly.
I thought we might go directly from the dinner table to the king-size bed in the suite, but instead Alec thrust me up against the wall, running his hands seductively from my shoulders to my wrists. Pinning my hands together high above my head next to the doorframe, he kissed me so deep and thirstily with longing that it took my breath away.
When he finally broke the kiss, my body arced toward him all on its own.
“I’d fuck you right now,” he whispered huskily, “but there are a few things I have to sort out. I’ll be back this evening.”
After the door closed behind him, I spread myself out on the bed and slid my hand down the front of my yoga pants, under my panties. “Fuck.” I mouthed the word like a plea for him to come back. When my hips finished rocking from the throes of orgasm, I fell hard asleep to dreams of Alec…and didn’t wake up until the morning. If he did come back, I don’t remember him being here.
It takes me a while to realize that I woke up because I heard soft knocking on the door. When my mind registers the sound, I leap out of bed, still wearing my traveling clothes, completely bewildered.
I open the door still half-asleep to see a tiny blonde woman with huge blue eyes looking up at me with an incandescent smile.
“Jessica Reeves?” she asks, her voice brighter than the flavor of ten cups of rich, dark coffee hitting my taste buds in the morning.
“Oh, shit,” I say, my face turning red. What is this woman doing here? Is there something I’m forgetting? Finally, I recover. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Wonderful!” she says, stepping neatly past me into the room. “My name is Claire, and Prince Alexander has sent me to be your personal companion for the duration of your stay. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you only need to let me know.” Her accent has the same crisp British-tinged inflection as Alec’s. She reaches out and pumps my hand in greeting as she speaks. As soon as she drops it, she takes me by the elbow and steers me deeper into the suite.
“What—?”
“Oh, no need to be alarmed, we just need to step out of the way of these fine people here.”
I turn back to the door just in time to see what appears to be a contingent of personal stylists and attendants, all sharply dressed in starched white shirts and dark bottoms, briskly entering my suite with purpose to their step. At the head of the line are two tall women, one brunette and one a fiery redhead, carrying what looks like a thin suitcase between them. When they open up the case and start setting up its contents on a side table, I see that it’s a massive collection of every kind of makeup imaginable. They’re followed closely by three ladies, each of whom are rolling a different rack of clothing into the room. Behind them are two young women who must be massage therapists because they immediately get to work setting up a treatment table.
“What is all this?” I say, once I can pick my jaw up off the floor.
“This is your team of personal attendants,” Claire says nonchalantly. “You can have any or all of them here any time you choose.”
“My team?”
“Yes. Prince Alexander was explicit in his orders that you were to be provided with the very best team of professionals that Saintland has to offer.” Claire beams at the hive of activity buzzing at full throttle around the room, and then looks me up and down. “I imagine that after your trip yesterday, you’ll want to enjoy a shower. When you’re done, you can begin your massage. The nail technician should be here by then, and after that, we can go over style options—.” At what must have been a befuddled look on my face, she laughs, waving her hand towards me dismissively. “Just hop into the shower, Ms. Reeves. We’ll be here when you get out.”