“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I mean, I don’t know,” Griffin bit out. “She’s . . . different.”
“How?”
“She’s very . . . American. Southern American.”
“I’m not following.”
“They would refer to her as a ‘redneck’ at home,” Griffin said. At Alex’s confused look, he added, “Very backward country people. For example, Maylee believes she is a burn talker.”
“A what?”
He explained it to his cousin, who looked more intrigued than amused. “And you said she used this on your hand?”
Griffin showed her his knuckles, which, surprisingly, weren’t even bruised. Huh. “I must not have hit it as hard as I thought.”
“Or maybe there’s something to it,” Alex said. “Stranger things have happened. Very curious. Luke’s superstitious, you know.” She got a soft smile on her face at the mention of her fiancé.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I originally set the wedding date for the thirteenth but he refused. We had to wait until the seventh of the following month, because he believes seven is lucky. And I’ve caught him throwing salt over his shoulder before heading on the set. It’s rather amusing.”
“Have you ever caught him trying to heal someone with a touch?”
“Well, no.”
“Then I rest my case,” Griffin said. “My American is more peculiar than yours.”
“Your American?” She gave him a shrewd look. “It sounds as if you’ve claimed her.”
Griffin sighed. “I don’t know what I think when it comes to her.” He still wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to pursue Maylee, but he found he was obsessed with her lately. Thought about her in his dreams, jerked off to her in the shower . . . He had it bad, whatever it was. “I suppose I should clarify my intentions.”
As soon as he figured them out.
Alex nodded her approval. “Try doing something nice for her. Last time I saw you with her, you were running the poor girl ragged. Why not find out what she wants or needs, and provide it for her?”
He thought about this. Every time he pictured Maylee, he thought of that wild, springy blonde hair that was constantly escaping its confines. It made her look tousled and fresh from bed. It drove him wild, but he knew it wasn’t entirely appropriate. “I’m not sure.”
“Is she accompanying you to the ball tomorrow night?”
“I imagine so.” He wasn’t sure if she had an suitable dress. He’d quite forgotten about the ball. He pictured her in a pale dress, as pale as those wild curls . . . and snapped his fingers. “I think I have just the idea. You’re a genius, Alex.”
She laughed. “I’ll have to add that to my list of titles. Her Royal Highness Alexandra Olivia the Third, Total Genius. It has a nice ring to it.”
Griffin smiled.
***
When he got back to the hotel, he spoke privately with the concierge for a few minutes, had an appointment set for the next day, and went up to his room feeling rather proud of himself for being so thoughtful. He even kept his surprise secret through breakfast the next morning, as Maylee chattered on about his schedule. He had another family meeting this morning, followed by a rehearsal of the wedding in which all of the royal family had to attend. After that, there was a celebratory ball. Bellissime’s oldest chapel was Sainte-Anne de la Vallée. All of Bellissime’s monarchy had married there since the time of Charlemagne, and it was a rather tiny affair. As an apology for having a small crowd at the actual wedding, there was an enormous wedding ball that all those who weren’t important enough for the actual chapel could attend. This meant the royal family’s staff, lesser nobles, visiting nobles, diplomats, celebrities, and anyone else who could sneak their way in.
Griffin was unlucky enough to be invited to both the wedding and ball, as a member of the royal family. Maylee, however, merely had to look presentable for tonight, as she would be on call for the wedding, but not actually invited.
Which was why his gift was perfect.
Once he was done with breakfast, Griffin folded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm. “Ready to start the day?”
“Ready,” she said with a smile at him, and closed the laptop. She threw it into a large tote bag she’d taken to carrying around—a ghastly touristy contraption that read BELLISSIME: LAND OF BEAUTY. He didn’t criticize it, though. Time enough for that later.
“We have a full day,” Griffin told her as they left the table. When they entered the main lobby of the hotel, he pretended that he’d forgotten something and snapped his fingers. “I need to retrieve something. I’ll meet you at the car.”
She gestured at the elevator. “Do you want me to go get it, Mr. Griffin?”
He shook his head. “Under control.”
Mystified, she headed out of the hotel and he turned and headed to the concierge’s desk to make sure Maylee’s beauty appointment was set up. The concierge was all smiles, even if she seemed a bit mystified that Lord Montagne Verdi was making a hair appointment for his assistant.
Five minutes later, Griffin made his way out to the sedan . . . and frowned.
Maylee was leaning against the car door, laughing and smiling as the driver, Robbie, hovered close nearby and flirted with her. It was clear that the man was staking his claim, judging by the possessive way he regarded Maylee.
And it pissed off Griffin. He stormed back into the concierge’s office. “I want a new driver by this afternoon,” he informed her.
“Oh, I’m not really sure if that falls under my jurisdiction—” she began.
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Just get it done for me.”
“Right away, Lord Montagne Verdi.”
Griffin straightened his jacket and headed back out to the car. He scowled at Robbie and gestured for Maylee to enter the car. He scowled again when Robbie winked at Maylee and opened the door for her, and she thanked him in her soft drawl. He slapped the business card given to him by the concierge into the man’s hand. “Take us here first.”
“Very well, my lord,” the driver said.
Inside the car, Maylee opened up the laptop and began to go through his emails. “Your two o’clock got shuffled to three,” she told him. “So I had to move a few things around to ensure that we can pick up your tuxedo from the tailor and get everything ready for the ball tonight.”