Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I put the baby monitor down and hold Knut to my chest as I sit on the corner of my bed, trying to gather my thoughts. James seems like a nice guy. I mean, he’s definitely hot, and there’s something about his energy—the way he seemed to observe me like he was trying to see past my mask made my stomach flutter. But I know the last thing I need is to start feeling anything for anyone I work with, no matter how mild. Hell, I don’t let myself feel anything for anyone; the idea of having to keep my walls up seems exhausting at this point, and I’ve been burned too many times to let them down again.
“So that settles it,” I say in a hush, as if he could hear me from downstairs. When—if—he invites you into the city next time, say no. Easy as that. Better to stop this before it starts.
I give Knut a little squeeze, as if the bear just gave me a pep talk, then I put him back in the closet and get ready for bed.
Five
JAMES
I set my alarm for six in the morning, expecting to have to jump into action by seven. But by the time I shower, trim my beard, get dressed in my suit, and step out into the hall, the house is dead quiet. Not a single sound except for a clock ticking from somewhere.
I make my way on the creaky hardwood floors of the hall down toward the kitchen, expecting at least the cook to be up and making food. But no. Nothing.
Am I in the bloody twilight zone? Did zombies attack in the night?
I leave the kitchen and then make my way to the front doors, opening them. More snow has fallen overnight, and everything is cold and pristine. I step out onto the grand porch and crane my neck to get a look at Einar’s cabin. Smoke is rising from his chimney, so at least that means he’s up.
The air certainly has a bite to it, so I step back inside and close the doors, just in time to see Laila walking down the hall toward the kitchen.
“Hey,” I whisper to her, striding over.
She takes one look at me and keeps walking, like she’s embarrassed to know me. I guess she figured out that I can hear her through the walls and she’s a pretty loud snorer.
I round the corner into the kitchen, grabbing her elbow lightly.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
Her brows rise. “Sleeping?” she says, as if it’s normal for an entire royal palace to sleep in. She looks me up and down discerningly. “Are you on the way to a business meeting?”
She turns and goes to the kettle, flicking it on. She’s wearing pink-and-white-striped pajamas, her hair in a messy pile on top of her head. With sleep still in her eyes and not a lick of makeup on her face, she’s far more gorgeous than she should be.
“It’s almost seven thirty,” I tell her, glancing at my watch.
She leans back against the counter and folds her arms. “I don’t know what to tell you, suit boy, but this isn’t jolly ol’ England. This is Norway. And for whatever reason, this house likes to get up late. Even the kids. Thank god, because I can use the beauty sleep.”
“Well, it suits you well,” I blurt out. I cover it up with a charming smile. “The beauty sleep.”
She gives me a withering look, not amused. She never took my compliments well, rebounding like she’s Teflon.
“Though I must say, I didn’t get enough beauty sleep myself,” I quickly add. “On account of the thin walls and someone’s predisposition to snoring.”
Her cheeks go pink. That was one thing I loved about her, the fact that she blushed easily, especially with well-placed dirty talk.
Stay focused, James. You’re going to run your new job into the ground if you’re not careful.
“You’re going to have to move your bed to the other side of the room,” she tells me, raising her chin, refusing to be embarrassed even though her cheeks don’t lie. “Or wear earplugs. Also, I don’t snore.”
She turns around and grabs a mug from the cupboard.
“Yes, you do,” I tell her, stepping closer. “Especially after some wine or whisky. Then you’re a bloody banshee, shaking the whole damn bed.”
When Laila and I had our little trysts, I didn’t often spend the night since my own room was downstairs. But when I did, I had to put the pillow over my head. I’m a light sleeper by nature, and her snoring would make the room rumble. Still, there was something about it that I found endearing—like how could such a beautiful woman produce such a horrendous noise?
“James,” she hisses, whipping around, fire in her eyes. “It isn’t starting over again if you keep bringing up how we knew each other before.”