“Apparently,” I muttered.
“Let’s not focus on that. Right now, we need to deal with Preston. What can we do that trumps him invading your personal space? There has to be something he really cares about that we can exploit.”
“Hmm. Well, he did spend the entire day I was shopping complaining about needing to get back to work.”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “That’s it! You’re both workaholics. Maybe he needs reminding that a life with you means your career trumps his.” A sly smile graced her lips. “When do you head back to Milan?”
Oh, I liked the way her mind worked. “A little over a week.”
“And how long will you be gone?”
“Three weeks, maybe four.”
“Make it three weeks. He may want to work remotely, which I don’t have to tell you is a real pain in the ass. Then, we throw in a monkey wrench and pick you up to spend Thanksgiving with us in Connecticut. The time change will make it impossible for him to work unless he gives up sleeping.”
Throwing my arms around her neck, I squealed. “You’re a genius!”
Pulling back, she appeared pleased with herself. “Stick with me, kid. We’ll get you through this single and free.”
Liam may have run for the hills at the first sign of conflict, but his wife was willingly in the trenches with me.
Preston had declared an all-out war with his actions today, but he’d be the one waving the white flag when all was said and done.
Chapter 11
Preston
Watching Lucy run outof the apartment in shock was well worth the uncomfortable audience I had with the King, begging him to let me shack up with Lucy. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken much convincing—he seemed desperate to make the match work. Princess Adelaide was eerily enthusiastic about the idea as well. I knew Lucy was a royal pain, but I never expected her family to want to get rid of her so badly.
Moving in without warning made us even for her little shopping stunt. You might be thinking my counterstrike was a bit more aggressive, and you’d be right. Lucy may have been the one to start this war, but I was bound and determined to finish it.
Not anticipating a long residency here at the palace, I packed lightly. The two large suitcases I wheeled in upon arrival were mostly empty, containing a few sets of clothing and basic toiletries. If, by some miracle, she survived the weekend, I’d send for my suits.
While she was gone, I took inventory of her private space. Her apartment seemed to span two floors. The first contained what looked like a breakfast room, living room, dining room, and modest kitchen. I doubted that she had ever touched a kitchen appliance in her life.
Carting my bags up the stairs, I found a locked door on one side of the upstairs hallway.
Interesting.
I wondered what she could be hiding in there. The other door on the opposite side opened to reveal a large private sitting room and two bedrooms. Unashamed, I walked into both, quickly identifying which was hers by the gray, pink, and cream color scheme—classic for a princess in her ivory tower.
Sitting on the oversized couch facing a small flatscreen TV, I relaxed, awaiting Lucy’s reappearance. Best case scenario, I’d be back at Foxway Manor by dinnertime.
Passing the time scrolling through emails on my phone, I heard the steps on the stairs signaling Lucy’s return. Ready to be thrown out on my ass, I pocketed my phone, spreading my arms wide across the back of the couch to look like I’d made myself at home in her absence. Every move I made from this point forward was carefully crafted to piss her off.
Turning the corner into the sitting room, Lucy stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of me. Narrowing those twin blue flames at me, she challenged, “What do you think you’re doing up here?”
Gesturing around, I replied, “I live here now.”
“You’ve mentioned that,” she muttered.
“Have a nice chat with your mother?”
Lucy may have been pissed before, but that sent her over the edge to murderous rage. Between gritted teeth, she forced out, “Stay away from my mother.”
I made a point of ignoring her demand. “Lovely woman. She was overjoyed at the prospect of us cozying up here together.” Conspiratorially, I added, “Between you and me, I think she’s hoping we have a little whoopsie and have to move up the wedding, if you know what I mean.” I threw in a wink for good measure.
There it was—the reaction I was aiming for. Lucy’s face turned bright red, and she screamed in frustration, stomping into her bedroom and slamming the door.
