Room Service

Chapter Two

I had been staring at the ceiling for so long that I had started counting the little swirls carved into the molding.

Twenty-three.

Or twenty-four.

I had lost track somewhere around fifteen. I rolled onto my side and pulled one of the pillows against my chest. The room was ridiculous. That had been my first thought when the woman who worked here had shown me inside earlier.

My bedroom back home could probably fit inside this one twice. Maybe three times if we moved the furniture.

There was a fireplace against one wall, a sitting area near the windows, and an entire second door that apparently led to a closet large enough to qualify as another bedroom.

And the bed? I was fairly certain six people could sleep in it without touching. Not that I planned on testing that theory. Especially considering the current situation.

I groaned and shoved my face into the pillow.

Three men.

Two months.

Pick a husband.

Whoever I chose would eventually become king. Perfectly normal. Completely reasonable. Nothing terrifying about that whatsoever.

I rolled onto my back again. Jacob had made the afternoon easier. That surprised me.

Of the three, he’d been the easiest to talk to. He’d asked questions without making every conversation feel like an interview for the position of future husband.

Books. Drawing. Food. Music. Normal things. I’d seen some of his paintings earlier, too. He was good. Really good.

There had been something unexpectedly sweet about the way he’d watched my face while I looked at them, almost as though my opinion mattered more than the painting itself.

Jay was…Jay.

I still hadn’t figured him out.

He had started the day by calling me hot before I’d managed to fully step out of the car, which wasn’t exactly an inspiring first impression.

But dinner had been different. He liked drawing. Classic rock. Walks when he was stressed. He had even looked genuinely excited when I offered to draw something for him. There might actually be a decent human being underneath all that confidence.

Possibly.

Then there was Drew.

I frowned.

Drew had barely been around. He’d disappeared sometime after we’d come inside and hadn’t joined us for dinner. I’d learned more about Jacob and Jay in a few hours than I’d learned about Drew all day. Which should not have bothered me.

Except it did.

Maybe because he was the only one who hadn’t appeared interested in trying to impress me. Jacob wasn’t exactly campaigning either, but he’d made an effort to talk to me. Jay certainly wasn’t subtle. Drew had mostly kept his distance.

I stared toward the door.

Maybe he genuinely didn’t want any part of this. I couldn’t blame him. Apparently none of them had known about the marriage requirement until I arrived. That meant whoever had arranged this had managed to manipulate all four of us.

Lovely.

I sat up.

My stomach growled.

“Traitor.”

Dinner had been hours ago, but I’d spent more time talking than eating. I slipped out of bed, pulled a sweater over the shirt I’d worn earlier, and opened the bedroom door.

The hallway was quiet.

Too quiet.

I still wasn’t accustomed to that. At home there was always something. A television. Cars passing outside. Someone talking. A neighbor’s dog barking for absolutely no reason.

Here there was mostly the faint sound of my own footsteps against polished floors. I wandered through two hallways before realizing I had absolutely no idea where I was going. Fantastic.

Lost inside my own supposed home. Eventually, I found the kitchen. Or one of them. I wasn’t completely convinced a building this size only had one. Most of dinner had already been cleared away, but a few covered dishes sat along one counter.

I lifted one.

Shepherd’s pie.

I smiled.

Okay. Maybe this place wasn’t entirely terrible. I spooned some onto a plate. Then stopped. Drew hadn’t eaten. I stared at the plate. This was stupid.

He could feed himself. He was a grown man. Presumably. I didn’t actually know how old he was. Or almost anything else about him. Which was exactly the problem.

I grabbed another plate.

Five minutes later I was standing outside a door holding food like some kind of deranged room-service employee. Jacob had mentioned Drew’s room was in this wing. I just hoped I’d remembered which one correctly.

I knocked.

Nothing.

Maybe he was asleep. Good. That meant I could leave and pretend I’d never done this. I had barely taken one step away when the door opened.

“Eliza?”

I froze.

Drew stood in the doorway wearing a dark T-shirt and gray sweatpants, his hair messier than it had been earlier.

For some reason that made remembering words more difficult.

“Hi.”

Excellent start.

His eyes moved to the plate in my hands.

I held it toward him. “I noticed you weren’t at dinner.”

Drew looked from the food to me. “So you brought me leftovers?”

“I was already getting some for myself,” I said, trying to brush it off. Technically true. “And I thought you might be hungry.”

His expression softened. “Thank you.”

He took the plate. Our fingers brushed. It was barely anything. Still, I pulled my hand back quicker than necessary. Drew either didn’t notice or was kind enough to pretend he hadn’t.

“I didn’t mean to bother you.” I felt my cheeks begin to warm as I turned on my heels to leave.

“You’re not.”

I glanced through the partially open doorway.

His room looked less like a bedroom and more like someone had collided with an art studio. Paper covered one large desk. Sketches. Color samples. A laptop. Several designs pinned to a board.

I leaned slightly towards the door. “Are those yours?”

Drew followed my gaze. “Yeah.”

“What are they?” I turned to get a better look.

He hesitated. Then opened the door farther. “You can come in if you want.”

I stepped inside.

His room was still absurdly large, because apparently modestly sized rooms had been outlawed here, but unlike mine, his actually looked lived in. There were books stacked along one shelf. Shoes by the door. A sweatshirt tossed across the back of a chair. And the desk was an organized disaster.

I walked closer.

Several logos were spread across it. One looked like it belonged to a coffee shop. Another was some kind of sports company. A third had an elegant design wrapped around a set of initials.

“You made these?”

Drew set the plate down. “Most of them.”

“Most?” I blinked.

“A few are concepts people sent me that I’m fixing.”

I picked up one sheet carefully. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” He shrugged.

“What do you do, exactly?” I asked, still scanning his designs.

“Graphic design.”

I looked at him. “Seriously?”

He laughed softly. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know what I expected.”

“Professional royal candidate?”

I snorted. “That position sounds terrible.”

“It is so far.” He smirked.

“Glad we’re agreeing on something.”

He leaned against the desk. “I design logos, advertisements, branding. Things like that.”

“So you actually have a job?” I asked.

His eyebrow lifted. “Did you think I sat around waiting for lost princesses to arrive?”

I tried not to laugh. “I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it.”

“Maybe a little.”

He smiled.

That was the first time I’d really seen him do it. Not the polite half-smile from earlier. A real one.

And annoyingly, it made him considerably more attractive.