Chapter 11: Don't Lose Your Crown, Prince Charming

I sit back in my chair with a sigh as tired old men in suites file out of the room. The lack of windows in the meeting hall always gives me claustrophobia. And after an hour-and-a-half-long conversation about eco-pens, it was time for a nice jog on the waterfront. I unplug my charger and fold it up. Wonder what Allie is up to right now? Probably knee-deep in fabric and tight in Zelia’s clutches. These are one of the moments that I’m glad my balls swing between my legs. I can’t even imagine wasting an entire afternoon painting my nails.

I close up my briefcase and get up with a stretch and a yawn. The door creaks open and I look up to see a tall brunette dressed in red standing in the doorway. One of Zelia’s many minions.

“What can I do for you, Michelle?” I sigh, walking towards her, the length of the conference table at my side.

Michelle’s eyes trail down my body shamelessly. “You’re needed in hair and makeup, Mr. Fairweather.”