Unchaining the door, I pull it open ever so slightly, being mindful that I am still in a towel. “Yes?” My tone is sharp.
“Just checking to see if you’ve calmed down from earlier.” A boyish grin presses against his lips as he edges closer towards me.
“Erm?” I roll my lips. “I was calm.” I furrow my brow.
“You seemed a little flustered.”
“Because you were walking around with hardly any clothes on. I didn’t know where to look! It was awkward as hell.” I drop my head and look at my toes.
“Well, that was on you. I told you to come earlier.” I don’t miss the curt edge to his words.
“I was working.”
“You should have been following me around and working, not doing whatever you were doing in here.” He waves his hand in front of him.
“I was on a call with my agent. It’s not only you I have to speak to.” I pout as he steps forward.
“When you’re with me, it’s only me.” His voice is low and causes my skin to scatter in goosebumps.
Lifting my face, my eyes link with his and my heart skips a beat.
“Can I come in?” he asks, voice soft, with almost a plead to his tone.
“I’m not dressed,” I whisper as an excuse.
“Get dressed then, I won’t peek.”
I sigh then glance over my shoulder at my notepad. “I have room service coming, I need to work…” I trail off as I turn to face him and he gives me the best puppy dog eyes I have ever seen.
I was so weak. He was going to have me wrapped around his finger within the next day or so.
“An hour,” I grumble, pushing the door wide and walking back into my room. “Don’t look at me,” I snap, grabbing my pyjamas from the end of the bad and slamming the bathroom door.
“Pinkie promise,” he shouts through the walls.
I roll my eyes; I can’t help but let a slither of a smirk cross my lips.
A short while later, I’m sitting on the bed, legs crossed underneath me as I tuck into my cheeseburger and chips. I offer to share it with Royce, but he politely declines saying he was on a strict diet. I feel bad for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
He lays on his back, flicking through my old notepad. “There is a lot of ideas in here.”
“Yup.” I try and grab it off him, but he moves it out of reach then gives me a soft head shake.
“I’m not finished.” He scowls at me before he goes back to reading.
Sighing, I swipe a chip through ketchup and pop it into my mouth.
“Are these all the books you have written?”
“No.” I move the plate to the bedside unit. “Most of those ideas don’t make it out of the notebook,” I admit and my stomach knots
“Why?” he asks, genuinely curious.
I lift a shoulder, locking my fingers together. Royce rolls on his side, propping his head up with his hand, the notepad now lying beside him.
“They’re not good enough,” I admit and I feel the ache in my chest.
“I don’t believe that.”
