Chris had managed two hours of sleep, barely, before someone started knocking like the building was on fire.
He groaned, dragging the blanket over his head. The sheets still smelled faintly like spice and heat from the call that should not have happened. He'd told himself it was nothing. Just Dax being Dax. The king probably called all his subordinates at ungodly hours from the bathtub while discussing near-assassinations and child marriages. Totally normal behavior. Entirely professional.
The knocking came again, sharper this time.
"Christopher Malek, if you don't open this door in the next ten seconds, I will personally drag you out by your hair!"
He groaned louder. "Hanna, it's six in the morning."
"Six-oh-three," came the reply, crisp and merciless. "And I've been waiting for this fitting since Tuesday."
Chris peeked out from under the blanket. "Tuesday was three days ago."
"Exactly."
He considered pretending to be dead. It would've been easier.
