“And Prince Max isn’t?” Isadora guffaws. “Face it, Hetty, they’re both gods among men.”
“Preach it,” Theresa agrees.
Gods among men?Wow.This really is a fan club.
“Ooh, look. I can see them!” Pippa declares, and everyone clamors around her, peering out the tall window.
There are two male figures rounding the rose garden in the distance, moving with speed and impressive athleticism. They’re both in shorts and sneakers, their shirtless torso’s glistening with sweat.
Wait. Shirtless?
Oh, come on! No wonder there’s a fan club for these guys. They’re out there flaunting their ripped bodies as though the palace has no windows through which people can see them.
They may as well have a gigantic neon sign above their heads yellingHalf naked men right here!
I watch as they stride towards us, their long, athletic legs pounding the ground. I’m not going to lie, they’reboth good looking men. Strong. Muscular. In great shape.
The women are enraptured, never pulling their eyes from them.
I click on my phone and begin to film. For content only, you understand.
“It’s like they’re two Greek statues that have come to life to do cardio together,” Isadora says.
“A slow-mo montage of male perfection,” Theresa says on a sigh.
Greek statues? Male perfection?Please.
Yes, I’ll admit, they’re a couple of good-looking guys. Objectively, there’s no denying that. But Greek statues come to life? Male perfection? From what I understand of Prince Max he’s about as flawed as they come. Arrogant, rude, shallow as a puddle.
Even if he does look particularly sexy with his torso taut with muscle, glistening in the late-morning sun.
Not that I’m staring or anything.
It’s my job to observe him. To learn everything I can about him.
But there's nothing professional about the way my pulse quickens as I watch him. I have to consciously remind myself to breathe. Because if I’m honest with myself—truly, truly honest—seeing the prince’s muscles ripple, his jaw held in strong determination,doesthings to me. Things I shouldn’t be feeling for a man I’m not only meant to be working with, but a man I actively dislike.
Well, at least I did actively dislike him before I began to see glimpses of someone beneath the suave, playboy exterior. Glimpses of someone real.
Dang it!I'm supposed to be immune to this man’s charms, not standing here like some lovesick teenager ogling the popular boy.
Get it together, Valentina.
I’ve been so focused on Max, I’ve barely noticed Chase, until his movement catches my eye, snapping me out of whatever trance the prince has put me in.
Reality hits me like a sharp slap to the cheek. I'm wasting time admiring the view—because as much as I hate to admit it, I am most definitely admiring it—when I should be getting my story.
They're right there in front of me, only three levels down.
This might be my only real chance today.
“Bye, ladies.” I dash across the floor, heading to the door.
“Where are you going? They haven’t started stretching yet!” Pippa calls out after me.
“Out!” I call back as I fly around the corner, and down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own heels as I traverse the expansive staircase that leads to the ground floor.
Once there, I call on my childhood palace knowledge to locate my nearest exit, bolting through it and out into the gardens.
