“How come?” Vivienne asks with a straight face.

I rub the towel across my face to conceal my grin.

The queen sighs. “I’ll let Anne know you’ll be running late and have a breakfast buffet set up in the conference room.”

“Thank you,” I’m quick to say.

The queen nods in acknowledgement. “Vivienne, may I speak to you?”

I glance over at Viv, but she looks unperturbed.

“Do you know how to get back to your room?” the queen asks me.

I don’t, but I don’t need to get back to my room. I need to get back to Viv’s. I see her reach the same conclusion I do.

“Stephen?” Viv calls. One of the butlers hurries over.

“Yes, Your Highness?” he asks, bowing in front of Viv.

“Can you show Mr. Dawson to the entrance of the east wing? I’m sure he can find his own room from there.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

I nod at Viv once, and she winks at me.

“It was nice to see you, Evelyn,” I offer to Vivienne’s mother.

“You too, Jace.”

I follow the butler back inside through a series of winding hallways covered with a resplendent blue carpet I’m certain I’ve never traveled through before. He stops at the start of a stretch of marble hallway I recognize.

“Thanks, Stephen.”

He smiles. “My pleasure, Mr. Dawson.” He turns and heads back the way we’ve just come.

I wander down the hallway until I come to Viv’s door. I open it and slip inside, feeling like I’m on an incognito mission. Do they have cameras inside this place? Something I probably should have considered before kissing Viv in the hallway this morning. She didn’t stop me, but she was distracted.

I look around her immaculate room. I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings last night. The hardwood floor is gleaming, a long stretch of varnished boards that’s only interrupted by a few fluffy rugs.

The room is decorated in soothing shades of light blue and gray. I think back to how Viv teased me about the childhood photos on my bedroom wall. There aren’t any such sentimental touches in her room. Pencil-drawn, framed sketches are artfully hung across the walls. I peer at the signature in the corner of one, shocked to realize I recognize the name. And it must be an original.

Walking past the stretch of bay windows, I enter the white tiled bathroom. My t-shirt and shorts cling to me as I peel them off and step under the pulsing spray of water. After washing and rinsing, I grab the same towel I used last night and dry myself off. I step back into the bedroom just as Viv walks in the room. I study her face carefully. She doesn’t look upset. Just resigned.

“Everything okay?” I ask as I open my suitcase and pull on a clean t-shirt.

She nods.

“What did your mom want?” I can’t help but ask.

Viv sighs. “Engagement stuff.”

“Oh.” The word hangs awkwardly between us. Relief I wasn’t the topic is swarmed with jealousy.