His Unwanted Princess

Chapter 27

The meeting is long and boring.

As I sit there on the comfortable high chair next to me, that's what I'm thinking. I look around the room and see where everyone is speaking aloud, their voices echoing off the walls. I had forgotten that men naturally talk this loud. I sigh as I look away from where the king was talking about everything that his son was doing. I move my gaze over to the prince and find that his eyes are set on the scene in front of him.

I move my hand over his shoulder and up his neck. I was going to just try to catch his attention, but then my hands brushed his hair. "Oh, that's soft," I whisper in a murmur as I bring my hand back to his hair. I shamelessly run my hand through his hair and play with it. I was bored, and his hair was better entertainment than the men who were talking way too loudly for my liking. I dig my hand into his hair and say, "So full." His hair was soft, and I kind of liked touching it. But as I continue to do it, Emmet grunts, so I move my hand away.

Instead, I busy myself with just touching the things on his spot. He had a notebook and a file full of papers that threatened to fall out. I take his pencil in my hand and then start to fidget with it, feeling myself grow less bored than before. I tap the pencil on the table, and once that gets boring at a time, I pick it up and start to doodle in his notebook. I sketch out a full page of drawings when my boredom hits again.

I was bored, but I was also anxious about what was happening around me. The men were ignoring my presence, but just the idea of being around them for way too long didn't sound good. I pick up his folder and start to go through it mindlessly when Emmet's hand drops down beside mine. Without even glancing at me, he moves his hand over mine and slips his fingers around mine. He presses our hands together, and my hand loosens from what I was doing. Emmet picks up our hands and then places them in front of us.

No one around us was looking for affection toward us. The prince had just slipped his hand in mine because I was disturbing him with my fidgeting. His hand on mine stays for the rest of the meeting. Toward the end, the door opens up, and in enters another man. One that looked to be Emmet's age, someone who only looked slightly younger than him. I turn over to Emmet to ask him who this person is, but when I go to open my eyes, I find that Emmet is glaring down at the man. His hard-set eyes trail the man from where he opens the door to where he takes a seat out beside the king.

Once the man is seated, Emmet moves his eyes away from the scene and turns toward me. He must think I was the one doing the glaring because he whispers, "What?" with an offensive look.

I lean closer to him, and once I'm sure my whisper will not travel anywhere else, I ask, "What's wrong?"

Emmet leans back and looks at me with an inquisitive expression as he says, "What are you referring to?"

I glanced away from him and toward the man who was now conversing with the king. I look back at Emmet and lean in, so I am speaking to him directly. "Why did you look at him like that?"

"Who?," Emmet asks.

"To the man who walked in," I say, and once the room quietens, I realize I had said that out loud. I thought I was whispering to Emmet, but once we had moved our heads away from each other, I said it. Maybe not too loud, but enough for the quiet room to hear us. I cringe as my eyes widen and I take in Emmet's expression. Then I looked over to see where the man was speaking to me.

"John Mayers," the man says to me with a smile, and I only nod at him, unable to remember how introductions usually go. Emmet clears his throat from beside me after a quick glance at me and says, "You'll have to excuse my wife. She is a little shy."