Page 19 of Breathtaking

His words are whispered. Barely spoken. But they’re there. And they break my heart.

Because I can’t give him that.

Even if he’s given me this.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, my prince,” I whisper back.

* * *

Ikeep my promise.

I’m still here when Maddox wakes up, and wewoke upa lot last night.

I mean... technically, wewoke upa few times this morning too.

I laugh at my own joke as I walk into his closet to grab myself a shirt. I’m not sure what time he got out of bed, but he kissed me and told me he had to take Meatball for a walk. That was exactly one red-hot shower ago, and my heavens, did it feel good. I considered waiting for him, but honestly, I’m a professional ballerina at the peak of my profession, and somehow, muscles I didn’t know I had hurt. Not necessarily in a bad way, but in aI need a little breakway. I search through his closet until I find a pile of neatly folded West End t-shirts and slide one on before I make my way to the kitchen in search of a cup of tea and maybe a slice of toast. I don’t remember the last time I ate. Oops.

Each step I take reminds me of exactly how many times wewoke uplast night, and I smile as I step into the kitchen, then scream.

“Fuck!” one of two huge men yells back at me while the other smiles.

I scream again, and the fucker glares. “Christ, woman. Shut up.”

My eyes dart around the kitchen, searching for a knife or a phone before the door slams open, and Maddox and Meatball rush in.

He glares at the men and cups my face, looking completely unfazed. “You okay?”

I try to focus on him but can’t tear my eyes away from the laughing twat leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. They’re both tall, dark, and almost as handsome as the man currently holding me. That’s when I see it. The resemblance. “Let me guess... these must be your brothers?”

“Ohh,” the shorter of the two mocks me. “She’s British.”

I growl.

Yes, I may have spent the last decade in London, but I also spent the majority of my early childhood in a boarding school in Switzerland. My accent is weak at best, and I am neither British nor Swiss. I consider myself a citizen of Mornea or possibly Elwyn. Maybe both. But calling me British is like calling Americans Canadians or vice versa. We don’t appreciate it. But I don’t bother arguing because something tells me it would simply fall on deaf ears.

I shake my head and slide further behind Maddox, hoping to block the shorter one’s view of my legs, because he’s leering, and I won’t be held responsible for kneeing him in the nuts if he looks any harder.

First, he calls me British, then he acts like a lech.

That’s two strikes against him already.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Maddox groans.

The tall one smiles. “Seeing if you want to go a few rounds at Crucible.” He bounces on his toes like an excited child. “Got a couple of inches of snow last night, so the gym should be almost empty.”

“Looks like you’re busy though. You gonna introduce us?” He lifts his chin toward Maddox, and I pull at the hem of my t-shirt, wishing I’d put my dress back on.

Maddox turns and looks at me, as if to ask permission.

Well, okay then. I step around him and enjoy the way Maddox keeps his grip possessively on my hip as I offer the tall one my hand and force a smile. “Lennon.”

He takes my hand in his and grins back at me. “Rome. Nice to meet you, Lennon.”

“Ahh... the middle brother,” I muse, thinking of the stories I’ve been told.

“Wait,” snaps the one I’m assuming is the baby of the family, Lucky. “Lennon. Like Gracie’s roommate, Lennon? The princess?”

Lovely. So much for staying under the radar.

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