Crushing on Royalty (The Cuttings #1) [To Be Reconstructed]

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I woke up the next morning, feeling heavy and groggy. I sprang up from the bed, eyes saucerwide. I felt like I forgot something. Something that would cost me my grade and my parenting skills.

Moan.

I mean, Sloan!

In an instant, I bolted out of the bed in lightning speed. I didn't mind dashing to the bathroom or even brushing my teeth (which is pretty much disgusting, I know), because I was too preoccupied with the thought of leaving my flour alone in the plane without anyone noticing it. Or maybe if someone had noticed it, she already might've been used for baking!

I ran as quickly as I could down the stairs, bare feet and all, not noticing the servants bustling in and out of the room, whispering about me behind my back.

They were thinking if I really was their employer's fiancée. Or his latest girlfriend.

If I wasn't so busy trying to look for my flour baby, I would've told them to shove it, but alas, I was not in the mood to tell them that.

I went out the door so that I could hail a cab or maybe catch Jerry somewhere, but I was greeted instead by a blast of cold wind and a cloudy, dull and gray afternoon.

I shut the door with a bang, breathing hard, with my whole body shaking.

"Keller?"

I snapped my head to the center, seeing Michael shirtless, wearing nothing but dark green sweatpants, his impeccable hair in disarray.

With a grunt, I marched toward him, oblivious to the scene I was making in the main hall.

"We forgot about Sloan!" I boomed. "Our baby has been forgotten on the plane, and we didn't even remember to pick her up!"

I heard some of the servants gasp and whisper. Some of them exclaimed, "Their baby?"

"Moan?" he exclaimed, shock evident in his features and tone.

"Yes!" I paced back and forth, completely forgetting that he said "Moan" and I was only wearing a silk nightgown that showed one bare leg because of a high slit, and a hefty access to my bare back and generous décolletage.

I could feel Michael staring at my appearance.

"Will you stop looking at me and concentrate on the task at hand?" I snapped, poking his chest. Hard.

He chuckled, never leaving his eyes off my cleavage. "Relax, love. As much as I adore you acting like a very concerned mother to our lifeless flour, it's safe up in my room, on my table, smiling all the way. It's been smiling ever since it's been handed out to us."

"But --"

"For God's sake, calm down and keep your Elvis!"

I should've been really grateful and relaxed, I know, but when I saw the amusement laced in Michael's voice, I couldn't help but hiss at him like a venomous snake, which was very childish.

"You bastard!" I yelled. The servants gasped. "You didn't even have the decency to tell me that Sloan's here already? You made me worry for nothing!"

"I beg your pardon, but may I remind you that you didn't ask me whether the flour is with us all along or not," he shot back.

"That's because I was -- and still am -- too tired!"

He rolled his eyes. "Like I'm not knackered as much as your are," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Well, excuse me for enjoying myself taking care of you as you slept on the plane," he said bitterly, catching me off guard.