Page 74 of American Royalty

Was she serious? She couldn’t come downstairs to get her own glass of champagne? Which person was he dealing with: the superstar or the houseguest?

JAMESON:A member of the staff would be happy to accommodate you.

DANI:This is not something I’m comfortable entrusting to staff.

JAMESON:I’m in my office in an entirely different wing from you. It’ll be easier for you to get it.

Three gray dots and then:Are these original hardwood floors?

Wha—

JAMESON:Of course.

DANI:And how would they respond to water and bubbles?

Water and bubbles...

She was in the tub? And there were bubbles?

His cock throbbed to life. He typed:Don’t move. I’ll be right there.

DANI:*smirk face emoji* See you soon!

He left his office and headed to the kitchen. Along the way he tried to steep himself in his annoyance. Use it as armor to protect himself from thoughts about her naked and wet.

In a bathtub full of bubbles...

The image was explicit enough in his mind. He didn’t need to actually see it. He would leave the glass outside the door. And the bathroom floor was tile. It would be fine.

As expected, a bottle of champagne and a filled flute sat on the counter. He grabbed the glass but thought, What were the chances she’d be texting him again when she wanted more? He should take the entire bottle.

When he saw the distinctive royal blue label, with the family’s crest, his eyes widened and he froze.

No, no, no...

Decades ago, Prince John had collaborated with a specific producer to create his own vintage champagne. When Jameson turned twenty-one, John had gifted him a crate of the rare bubbly with a promise that they’d enjoy a bottle each year on Jameson’s birthday. The following year, his grandfather died. When he went to toast his grandfather on his thirtieth birthday, the sight of only twobottles left had hollowed out his chest. He hadn’t been able to engage in the tradition the last two years, wanting to hold on to those bottles for as long as possible. Another way to preserve the memory of the man who’d been like his father.

Margery would never have given Dani this bottle. Which meant she’d helped herself to one of his most prized possessions. Out of all the bottles in his wine cellar, over twelve hundred,thiswas the one she chose?

Why hadn’t she asked?

Why hadn’t you shown her, like a proper host would have?

Ignoring that thought, he marched out of the kitchen, across the foyer, and up the stairs to the east wing of the house. When he got close to her bathroom, he was struck by the sound of singing. Was that her? He didn’t know she was a singer, too. She had a lovely voice, a smooth alto that caressed his ears like warm honey.

Which he may have appreciated any other time. But not now. Not after what she’d done. Forget leaving the glass in the hallway and slinking away—

He flung open the bathroom door.

Bubbles.

She was surrounded by bubbles, looking like the wettest of all wet dreams, frothy lather sliding down one raised shapely leg—

Thank God for his anger.

“Who gave you permission to open this bottle?” he asked, clutching it by the neck.

Her eyes widened and her head jerked back, but she quickly recovered. “Excuse me?”