“All except for derby days.”
It is so easy to laugh with the prince. His warm laughter is infectious and makes my chest swell every time I hear it.
There’s only room for eight to sit in the prince’s private section, but the only other person here is Prince Friedrich’s best friend. Miles Njeri is easy to spot, being so incredibly tall. When he stands to greet us, I have to look up to meet his eyes, even standing two steps above him.
“Ah, the famous Nanny Sumner.” His deep voice rolls over me like water. “We meet at last.” His grip isfirm as he presses a kiss to my knuckles, never taking his eyes from mine. It is quite the power play.
“A pleasure,” I simper. The line between intimidating and attractive is a bit blurred in those deep brown eyes, and I’m still learning how to stand my ground around all these rich and powerful people.
“All right, mate. Put your dick away.” Prince Friedrich claps him on the back, and Miles drops my hand.
“Merely getting to know our new friend,” he says, returning to his seat. Seriously, this man could read a computer manual and make it sound good with that basso profundo timbre. But the edge in his tone is obvious.
“I know exactly what you are doing,” the prince replies as the rest of us file into the front row, Miles and I on either side of the prince and Princess Beatrix on my other side.
Miles grills me on football and the team while we wait for the match to start. I can’t quite get a read on this guy. He always comes off so joyful and carefree in the tabloid shots of him and the prince together. He’s painted as the fun one, the party guy. But all I’m getting is short and maybe a little cold. I can feel the protective glares coming at me from all sides as the prince’s most trusted friends work out exactly who I am and what is going on with Prince Friedrich and me.
When the first whistle blows, though, all conversation and questioning stops. Miles and I lean forward in our seats at the same time as the echoing thunk of ball on boot draws us in.
