“Your Highness,” she greets Viv. Her gaze shifts to me. “Mr. Dawson, I’m Anne Riley. We spoke on the phone previously.”

“Yes, I remember,” I reply.

She appears just as brisk and efficient in person as she sounded on the phone. “Wonderful. Queen Evelyn asked for some breakfast to be brought up.” Anne gestures to a buffet of food that’s been set up on a table along the wall. “She said neither of you have had a chance to eat yet. So, help yourselves and then we’ll get started. Let me just grab an assistant, then we can begin as soon as you’re both ready.” She smiles and leaves the room.

I make a beeline for the array of food, my stomach grumbling loudly at the sight of the spread. I load a plate high with eggs, French toast, fruit, bacon, and toast. Viv raises her eyebrows at my overloaded plate as she starts to fill her own with food.

“What?” I ask. “I’m a growing boy.” I wink, and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sure boy is the right word.”

I smirk. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Viv. I’m just hungry. I had two workouts this morning.”

She blushes.

“Is that why you don’t think of me as a boy? Because—”

“Stop it,” she hisses, glancing wildly toward the door.

“Stop what?” I reply, grinning at her as I take a large bite of toast.

“Talking about sex! You’re going to make Anne suspect something is going on.”

“Only if you keep blushing all the time,” I inform her.

Viv sticks out her tongue at me.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” I promise. “But for the record, I fucking love when I make you blush,” I whisper against her ear.

She shivers, and it’s a serious test of my willpower to leave her side and walk over to the table. Vivienne is a dangerous addiction. No matter how much I get, I always crave more.

I set my plate on the table, then return to the buffet to grab a cup of coffee. The door opens, and Anne reenters the room with a brown-haired girl who looks my age in tow. She curtsies to Viv and looks at me curiously before taking a seat at the table. I add some milk to my coffee and glance over at Viv. She’s holding her own overloaded plate and a glass of orange juice.

“Coffee?” I ask her.

“Yeah, thanks,” she replies, grabbing a few napkins and then heading over toward the conference table.

I follow after her, setting down both mugs. As Viv sets down her plate and glass, I pull the chair next to me out slightly so she can sit down. I take a large bite of eggs and glance up to see Anne staring at me intently. Her lips are pursed.

“Okay,” she says, opening her notebook. “Are you both ready to get started?”

Viv and I both nod.

“The point of this meeting is to prepare you both for any questions that may come your way in the interview and go over anything else that could come up as a surprise. I have some control over the press, but if anyone has anything they consider juicy enough, they may go off-script. We need to ensure that doesn’t happen, got it?”