He's a Prince. She's a journalist.
They have a complicated relationship. More like he's into her but she hates his guts.
He needs to behave. She needs to let loose.
He's interested in her because she's the last girl interested in him.
Both of them n...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Marianne is sleeping contented in her crib, and I finally step away from her room. I try to start the monitor thing, but the stupid device starts to beep and I pull the plug before Marianne wakes up. My heart races as I gaze at the baby. Poor girl, she was utterly exhausted from all the crying she did before, so she ignores the strenuous beeps.
Thank God. I don't think I have any more energy left.
Mark left to try to call Scott and let him know about the fever, but not until Marianne was much better. We didn't want to ruin their date.
I step out of the room but I don't close the door completely, just to be sure we can hear her if she wakes up.
But please don't wake up. Pretty please with a cherry on top, please.
When I take a look at the bathroom where we showered her, everything has been cleaned up. When did Mark do this? I'm not complaining, though. I'm absolutely drained and the last thing I want to do is clean everything.
I drag my feet to the kitchen. Stifling a yawn, I make my way to the kitchen counter, leaning both arms over the counter. Mark's blue eyes turn to me as he finishes his call.
"Are they freaking out?" I ask knowing Emily will come back home any minute now.
"They didn't answer."
I lift my head, blinking at him. "For real?"
Mark shrugs. "They might be busy," he wriggles his brows. Good grief. The douchebag has returned. "Hungry?" He says in a sultry voice, and I know he's just messing with me.
He takes out his phone and taps on it for a moment, before placing it on the counter.
"What, is that all? Don't you need to call or something?"
His smile widens. He is the prince of England, duh.
Shaking my head, I pace to the fridge to grab something to drink. There's nothing much. Plain water and milk bottles. Poor Emily. She's become one of those health freaks like Hugh. She always complained about him, but ever since being a Mom, she's concerned about eating organic food. Good thing she doesn't struggle with money, though. If I wanted to get everything organic, I'd have to write more than the measly advice column they had me on.
Ugh. I need to work on that.
Ten minutes later, just as I've gotten bored from scrolling through my Facebook, the door bell rings. That was fast. Mark's chair makes a sound as he stands up, boasting about having everything he needs as his service. Okay. I'm not sure if that's what he's actually thinking, but the wide smile and puffed out chest makes me believe so.
