The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(22)

“Oh, I see.” Haydon mumbles, as more bangs and crashes ring out. I wince with each and every one of them. “Sounds … rowdy.”

“It is, which is why I am retiring to my room.” Take the hint! “Why are you here, Haydon?”

“Dinner,” he says, his attention constantly flicking between the dining room doors and me. “I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow evening. An extended birthday treat, if you will.”

I study him for a few moments, his disposition twitchy, his attention split. He could have called and asked me to dinner. Is he checking up on me? “You have already treated me enough.” I am not going to dinner with Haydon Sampson. It will potentially give the press pictures and cause to speculate. My father and his minions will delight in it all too much. They might even be the ones to tip off the paps.

“Is that your way of saying no?”

“It is my way of saying you have already treated me enough,” I clarify. “Besides, Damon is off tomorrow evening, and I have resided myself to a much-needed evening beside the fire.”

“Then another day, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” I agree easily, if only to move things along. To get him out of here before any drunk men fall out of the dining room and Haydon snitches to the King, or, worse, Josh Jameson makes an—

“There you are.” Josh’s voice has my shoulders shooting up to my earlobes on a flinch of dread. I watch, stunned into stillness, as Haydon turns to seek out the source of the rough accent. Oh, goodness me. Josh strides toward us, confident, his blue eyes focused solely on me, as if Haydon is not here, as if he isn’t looking at Josh in worried interest. “I’ve been looking for you.” Josh’s arm lands around my bare shoulders, his lips on my cheek.

Well … damn.

I soak up his attention, helpless, as he makes a banquet of my flaming face. The bloody rogue. Damon coughs, and I shoot my gaze to him, finding him trying very hard to conceal an amused smirk. I narrow my eyes on my head of security and shrug off Josh.

“Josh Jameson,” Haydon says, clearly taken aback by Josh’s brash behavior.

“And you are?” Josh, full of feigned politeness, offers his hand to Haydon, who doesn’t entertain his invitation to make his acquaintance.

Instead, he just looks at Josh’s extended offering before turning questioning eyes my way. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“I don’t have company.” I move away from Jameson, feeling irritation growing. “Mr. Jameson is Eddie’s guest.” That is technically true. “Like I said, I was just retiring to my suite.” I move toward the stairs, eager to remove myself from the thick atmosphere. “Good evening, gentlemen.” I take the steps fast, hearing a few mutters from Haydon before the doors of Kellington close behind him.

When I reach the top of the grand staircase, I turn to find Josh standing at the bottom, Damon a few steps behind him. “That was not necessary,” I grate, my jaw tight with frustration. His Tarzan move may have landed me in very hot water with the King. I don’t need any more lectures on appropriateness, and who to be appropriate with.

“Did you want him to stay?” Josh asks seriously.

“No, but that is not the point.”

“Would you like me to stay?”

I withdraw, my mouth snapping shut. I don’t know, is the truth. “Yes.” The answer comes from nowhere, something taking over my questioning mind, and I reach for my lips as if I have said something sinful. Josh smiles, victorious, and turns to Damon, offering his hand. “I’ve got it from here, buddy.”

Buddy? I’m stunned further when Damon accepts Josh’s hand and shakes on a nod. “Watch her, Mr. Jameson. Like your life depends on it.”

“Because it does?” Josh asks, smiling.

Damon returns his smile. “I don’t want to hurt you. I love your movies.”

My mouth falls open and Josh laughs. “Understood.”

Damon gives me his customary nod, straight-faced and sharp, before moving away, leaving me alone with Josh bloody Jameson.

“Let the games begin,” he muses, slowly pivoting back toward me. I don’t want to, but I start fidgeting with anticipation, my blood alight with thrilling forbiddance.

“Maybe I don’t want to play.”

“You don’t get to play.” Josh tells me with an authority I wouldn’t dream of challenging. It’s a revelation, one that I am mad at myself for liking entirely too much. “You, Your Highness, will obey.” He stalks up the carpeted steps slowly, making sure I have ample time to try to regulate my ragged, shallow breaths. Ample time that is useless to me. All the time in the world wouldn’t help. I’m virtually panting by the time he is one step below me, his face perfectly level with mine. Brushing his palm across the material of my T-shirt, onto my stomach, and over my hip toward my bum, he tilts his head, as if thoughtful. “I’m the one who gets to play.” Slap! I jerk forward, my palms shooting to his torso to support me. The feel of solid, sculpted muscle beneath registers quickly, and my palms start moving across his delectable chest. “I get to play with you. With this.” His gaze plummets down my body. “And I’m quite possessive of my play things.”

Oh, bloody hell. “I’m a play thing?” I should feel repulsed. I don’t. I’m simply turned on.