80. Alastair

Alastair

As I stepped closer, the first thing Chelsea did was step back from me, her eyes darting around to ensure no one had heard the nickname I had just called her. Finding no one engaged in our conversation and the garden filled with workers diligently shaping the trees, she heaved a relieved sigh. It seemed that she was willing to risk her entire life but not get close to me.

My jaw clenched. "Did you tell Rossi... well, Rossi is the woman who stayed in the guest house yesterday. The one I once..."

"Fucked," Chelsea completed my sentence, her face contorted with bitterness.

I blinked, taken aback by Chelsea's bluntness. She was a peculiar woman, to say the least. Her sudden transformation into a badass astounded, confounded, and at the same time, provoked me. I had a feeling that Rossi Clooney would be provoked in an entirely different manner. Rossi, the head of the royal event management team, rarely stayed at the palace since her father was a top businessman with a grand estate.