I want a princess

trary to popular belief, he did have some manners. But he was almost certainly failing. Still, he supposed it didn’t really matter. Chris Tabary, the source o

d dangerous as ever. Ruben would give the signal, and Hans would think up some sort of excuse— The sound of voices floated in through Tabary’s office door. It was muffled, but still clear enough to distract Ruben from his plan. “Oh! Hello…” The voice softened, trailing off into a low murmur that he couldn’t quite catch. Then came another voice in response, much lower than the first. That was one of his guards. Who were they talking to? “Are you alright, Mr. Ambjørn?” Ruben turned back towards Tabary, and found the man looking at him with a frown. “Yes, yes,” Ruben said. “Just… thought I heard something.” “Oh, there’s often a racket along these corridors.” Tabary waved a hand. “We share the tower with the administrative staff. They roam around clucking like hens, bless them. Our girls love a gossip.” Ruben’s brows shot up. Our girls love a gossip? The patronising little shit. Fuck manners. He was leaving. But, before he could make a move, there came a sharp knock at the door. He had just enough time to wonder if there was some emergency—hadn’t Tabary asked not to be disturbed?— before the door opened and a hurricane swept inside. “Chris, darling!” She tottered in on high-heels, closing the door behind her with a bump of her hips. And good Lord, what hips. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but this absolutely couldn’t wait.”The hurricane was a woman. A woman with laughing eyes and a heart-shaped face and a figure that could kill a man. A woman whose dark, springy curls gleamed like midnight, who has incongruously chubby cheeks and brown-sugar skin. She sailed past Hans as if he wasn’t even there, and Ruben wondered what had happened to the men stationed outside. Then he watched her hips sway as she walked, and decided they’d probably passed out at the sight of her. “Cherry,” Tabary said, frowning at her. Ruben wondered why he was calling her Cherry—a pet name?—and why he was frowning at the most beautiful woman on earth. Had the man no fucking sense? “This is a very important meeting,” Tabary continued. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman said, her tone dripping with apology. But Ruben had the strangest impression that she wasn’t sorry at all. Then, for the first time since she’d come in, her eyes flitted over to his. And he realised that beautiful was an understatement. Her face was almost unnaturally perfect. For one disturbing moment he was reminded of his sister—but Sophronia’s beauty was cold. So fucking cold. This woman might burst into flame at any moment. She slapped a stack of papers on Tabary’s desk and bent at the waist, leaning over his shoulder as she pointed at something on the first page. Her cleavage, already magnificent, swelled against the neckline of her dress. Ruben reminded himself to keep breathing. “If you could just have a look at this,” she said, her voice soft. “I can’t quite get a handle on it…” Tabary’s frown disappeared, and he gave the woman a look of affection. That look made Ruben’s fists clench, made him grind his teeth—which was both ridiculous and inevitable. He