GEORGE
"Dude, is your sister by any chance wearing a wig?"
I barged into Maverick's office and dropped into the chair across his mahogany desk.
Maverick barely looked up from the mountain of files in front of him. "Nope. Why do you ask?"
I scratched the back of my neck, pretending to sound casual. "Man, she's not red-haired and she's got a hot temper?"
He finally lifted his gaze, frowning in confusion. "She's naturally red-haired. She only dyed it blonde. And why the hell are we talking about my kid sister this early in the morning?"
Yeah. Why the hell are we talking about her?
I should've chosen my words better. Now he's going to find out I've got a quiet crush on his sister.
Ever since that accident, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her — my mysterious girl. She's been haunting my thoughts, even my dreams. Last night, I dreamed of her — us — tangled up in wild passion on a sofa… only to wake up realizing I'd been clinging to my pillow.
Damn.
This girl is a walking temptation.
I've been with countless women before — all shapes, accents, and temperaments — but none of them come close to her. She's different. Dangerous. Addictive. And I want her.
No. I need her.
"George?"
I blinked and realized I'd been staring at Maverick for far too long. "Huh? Oh. Sorry. Got a bit carried away there."
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah." I waved him off. "Just… said something stupid."
He chuckled. "Eloise deceives everyone with that blonde hair. Don't let it fool you. She's got the temper to match that red."
I leaned forward, fishing for more. "Wow. Her boyfriend must be a saint to handle her."
Maverick snorted. "Boyfriend? George, you're hilarious. Eloise has never dated anyone. And as far as I know, she's still a virgin. Doesn't even understand relationships."
Wait. What?
"She's still single?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
"Exactly what I said, Your Majesty."
He had to say it like that. Like a reminder that I'm the bloody Prince of Great Britain and Ireland. Come on, mate, we're talking about Eloise here. "That's why we're all on her case — my parents, my siblings, everyone. She's thirty-two, for God's sake, and still refusing to settle down. I don't get it — a woman who's never been in love hating marriage?"
I drummed my fingers against his desk, storing away every word like treasure. "Well, if it helps, we're almost in the same boat. I'm thirty-five and still single. The only difference is, my family doesn't care. They're not exactly breathing down my neck about marriage."
Maverick clasped his fingers together and leaned forward. "Still, you need a queen beside that throne of yours."
Royalty sucks. Seriously, it does. I feel trapped — caged — like my whole life is scripted by protocol and palace rules. Guarded twenty-four-seven. Watched. Judged. All because I'm the heir to the throne of England.
"I wish I could just switch royalty off like a light switch." I groaned.
Maverick laughed. "You've been saying that since high school. You never change, man. But face it — some blessings, you just can't switch off."
I frowned. "Why was I even born royal? Being the future king of Britain and Ireland isn't a blessing — it's a curse. There are so many things I want to do, but I can't… because of this damn title."
He was only half-listening now, buried back in his files. "You're lucky, George. People would kill for your position."
Just then, the door opened — and she walked in. My angel.
Eloise.
She was carrying a stack of folders, all business and no smile. "Here. Your request."
"Thanks," Maverick said, eyes still glued to his work as she placed them on his desk.
She turned to leave, not even sparing me a glance.
Ouch.
So, am now invisible?
"Uh, just a minute," I said, standing abruptly. "I'll be right back." I told Maverick but he only nodded in response, still buried in his work.
I couldn't waste this chance.
"Eloise!" I called as I caught up to her in the hallway.
She stopped — to my surprise. My heart did a little victory dance.
When she turned around, her face was blank, icy. "What do you want from me?"
Her tone snapped like a whip.
"Ever since that accident, you've been hovering around me like a lost puppy," she said sharply.
I gulped first. "Then give me your number," I shot back with a grin, "and I'll stop pestering you."
"Not happening."
God. She's stubborn.
"What's the big deal about giving me your number? You guard it like it's the crown jewels."
She scoffed. "Or maybe I just don't want to give it to you."
"Ouch. But admit it — you like the attention."
She raised a brow. "What I like is being left alone."
"Tsk." I smirked. "Can't do that. Not when I see you walk past me every day."
She let out a dry laugh. "You're wasting your time."
"No," I said softly, stepping closer. "I'm investing it. On someone worth it."
She rolled her eyes. "Persistent."
"Determined," I corrected. "There's a difference."
"You don't even know me."
"That's the point. Let me." I smiled. "One number, one coffee, one chance."
"Still no."
"Then I'll ask again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that."
Her jaw clenched. "You're not getting it."
"Oh, I get it," I chuckled. "You're stubborn. But in England, we call that charming defiance."
She crossed her arms. "Call it whatever you want. The answer's still no."
I whistled low. "You guard that number like Buckingham Palace would crumble if I had it."
"Or maybe," she sneered, "I just don't want to encourage you."
I grinned. "But you already have. You stopped to argue with me. That's progress."
She scoffed. "You're impossible."
"Not impossible," I said softly, locking eyes with her. "Just determined. Tomorrow, I'll try again. And the day after, if I have to."
She laughed — mockingly. "You'll be wasting your time."
"Maybe," I said, stepping close enough to feel her warmth, "but with you… time could never be wasted."
She took a step back, disgust flickering across her face, and turned on her heels.
I stood there, watching her walk away — every sway of her hips, every flick of that blonde hair.
A slow smile spread across my face.
"I'll do anything and everything to have you, Eloise," I murmured under my breath. "No matter what. You'll be mine."