Page 42 of Bossy Wicked Prince
When I look through my window, all I see is a line of regular high-rise building. Nothing looks wrong to me.
She flips rapidly through pages in her padfolio. “We shouldn’t be going above 60th,” she mutters. “Unless…did I remember that wrong?”
The nearest street sign says 72nd St. I don’t bother pointing out what she can obviously see for herself. Instinctively, I glance down at my watch to check the time.
“It’s 2:25,” she says automatically. “We have five minutes.”
“We’re still early.”
Cat doesn’t acknowledge that. I’m not even sure she heard it. She abandons her padfolio to pull up a map on her phone instead, unconsciously tapping her foot to release nervous energy. Her thumbs move quickly along the screen as she types something in, then scrolls through the map. Whatever she sees makes her suck in a breath. “Shit,” she cries. “Oh, shit, shit, shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh Nate, I’m so sorry, I messed it all up—” She gasps in the middle of the sentence. The color drains from her face as she tries to get in enough air to keep speaking. “I–I got the—the–”
She’s hyperventilating. Her eyes are hazy and unfocused, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.
A panic attack.
It’s entirely unlike her. The Cat I know is cheerfully calm when faced with a problem—even finding her apartment broken into didn’t leave her this flustered. I’ll figure out why this is different later.
Now, it’s my job to get her calm again.
I put my hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently. “Listen to me, Cat. Close your eyes and take a deep breath.”
She obeys, her eyes fluttering shut. Her first attempt at a deep breath is still short and shallow, and her second is little better.
Still, I tell her, “Good. Now breathe in through your nose.”
She does.
“One, two, three,” I count as she inhales. “And out slow. That’s it.”
I count her through her next few breaths, watching as she slowly calms down. When her chest is finally rising and falling at a normal rate, I pat her leg, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“There. Good girl.”
Cat shivers at the words, then I can visibly see her relax. Her muscles stop tensing, and her shoulders lower.
She likes being praised.
Good to know.
I grin and she cocks her head at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You have a great smile.”
I snort. “They’re only for you. So don’t tell anyone, okay?”
A pink hue colors her cheeks as she drops her gaze and pushes her hair behind her ear.
God, she’s cute when she’s nervous.
“You want to tell me what set you off?” I ask.
She points toward the window. “The sign. It says Crain Hotel Group, not Crown. I got the wrong building. We’re not supposed to be here.”
