My brows shoot up. “Friends?”
“Sure. I mean, we’re not going to be having sex. At least not until you realize it’s perfectly fine to want me—once that happens we’ll be doing it, like, twenty-four seven so clear your schedule. But until then we should be friends. The whole you ignoring me thing just isn’t going to fly anymore.”
I’d be lying if I said the thought of a twenty-four-hour sex marathon with this man didn’t send a little thrill of desire running through me. But it’s matched by feelings of panic and anxiety and I know there’s no way it’ll come to that. “You’re very confident I’m going to change my mind.”
He shakes his head slowly, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a sad smile. “I don’t need to change your mind. I need to open your mind.”
I feel as though I’m standing on the precipice of something, and accepting Jai’s offer of friendship will be the thing to push me right over. I should say no. I should simply return to ignoring him. He’s my children’s tutor, there’s no reason for us to socialize or become confidants of any sort. But there’s also no reason for us not to. This could be a kind of middle ground, a way to spend time with the intriguing American without actually giving in to those urges.
“Very well. Friends,” I say, holding my hand out for him to shake.
He takes it, lingering far longer than is generally acceptable as he shakes his agreement. “Friends.” He lets go of my hand and offers a dry smirk. “Now, as a friend, I kindly ask you to get the fuck out of my room. I need my beauty sleep.”
11
JAI
I’m not going to lie, my heart broke a little when I heard all the crap Lukas was saying in my room the other night. Not for me, though. For him. It’s beyond obvious he’s fighting a major struggle within himself, and that he has been for a long time, and it killed me to see him so torn up with misplaced shame and fear.
But I’m determined to prove to him what he feels for me isn’t wrong, and I don’t care how long it takes. Because he does feel something for me. It’s not just in my head, and it’s not just wishful thinking. I’m sure of it now.
“Jai! Jai! Jai! Look at me! Jai! You’re not looking!”
With a chuckle, I put down my laptop and glance over at the princess, who’s just come bounding down from her room dressed in her Halloween costume.
“Oh, my god!” I gasp. “Queen Elsa! I can’t believe you’re here, all the way from Arendelle! Did you come for a meeting with the king?”
Katya lets out a wild giggle and rushes over to me. “Jai, it’s not really Queen Elsa. It’s me, Katya.”
“Really?” I ask in mock surprise. “Your costume’s so convincing!”
She sits herself on the sofa next to me, her little legs dangling over the side and swinging back and forth to kick at the base. “Can we go yet?”
“Your brother isn’t here yet. And your papa wants to see you before we leave.”
Despite some initial reluctance because of how uncommon the practice of trick-or-treating is in this part of the world, Lukas had eventually relented after seeing how exited the children were about the prospect. They’re to stay inside the palace, though, and Veronika’s been busy over the past few days making sure everyone has little treats on hand to share with the prince and princess when they come knocking. I actually think the palace staff are starting to get just as excited about the novelty of the occasion as the children are.
A moment later, Prince Tomas rushes down the stairs dressed as Harry Potter, complete with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a wand in his hand, and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. The only glaring difference between the prince and everyone’s favorite boy wizard is Tomas’s dirty blond hair.
I decide not to pull the same act with Tomas as I did with Katya because he’s eleven and won’t appreciate it the way his sister did. “Wow, Your Highness, you look fantastic! Just like Harry!”
Tomas frowns. “It would look better if I had black hair like Harry does, but papa said I wasn’t allowed to dye it.”
“I think that’s a wise decision,” I say. “I dyed my hair once and it didn’t go well. And it took forever for it to grow out.”
“What color was it?” Katya asks.
“Well, I wanted it to be blond, but it came out green.”
I hear a rumbling chuckle coming from the doorway of the living room and turn to see Lukas has arrived to catch the last snippet of the conversation.
“I hope you have pictures,” he says, eyes gleaming with amusement.
“They’ve all been burned.”
I’m surprised when Lukas decides to come trick-or-treating with us, as are pretty much all the palace staff we come across. But it turns out to be a good thing, because by the time we’ve finished traipsing all over the palace—including the section at the opposite end that houses the Parliament chambers and other government offices—Katya is dead on her feet and needs to be carried back to the residential suites. The image of Lukas holding his sleeping daughter in his arms makes me just want to melt. Pretty sure I vaguely resemble that emoji with the heart eyes right about now.
A week into this ‘just friends’ arrangement with Lukas, I am seriously doubting the wisdom of my suggestion. Him constantly ignoring and avoiding me was frustrating, but now that we’re in close proximity on a regular basis? Let’s just say my balls have never been bluer.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying getting to know him better, and I love spending time with him just sharing a glass of wine in the evenings, or playing a game of Scrabble, or helping him in his garage—and by helping I mean standing there staring at his ass while he works on his cars—but doing all that while not being able to touch him is pure torture. And compensating with my hand will only get me so far…
“Why are you cooking?” Owen asks. I have his FaceTime call set up on my tablet so I can talk to him while I’m busy making papanasi as a treat for the children. “You only cook when you’re mad or upset.”
Or frustrated…
“I’m making a treat for the prince and princess,” I tell him, not wanting to go into detail about why I felt the urge to let off some steam in the kitchen. “Papanasi.”
“What’s that again?”
“They’re Romanian fried donuts with cheese inside.”
“Wow, sounds healthy.”
I shrug. “That’s why it’s a treat. And I’m allowed to spoil them with shit, I’m not their father.”
“Speaking of their father…I heard you danced with him at some big party.”
My head snaps up. “That made it to the States?”
Owen nods. “Yup. Is there something going on between you guys?”
I return to my task of kneading the papanasi dough. Even if Lukas and I had crossed over to that next stage, I don’t think I’d be able to tell Owen about it because of the NDA I signed when I started working here. I decide to go with a version of the truth. “We’re friends.”