The Crown Trials [The Crown Saga I]

An Innocent Gamble

It wasn't easy to stay focused on the practical things Mom was urging me to memorize throughout the rest of the tour.

The black-haired man still haunted my mind like a persistent leech. Every time I thought back to the daunting smile, I felt cold.

Everything in my mind told me to run as far away from here as possible, but my family needed me to take this job. We couldn't afford for me to back out now.

Mom showed me a few smaller bedrooms containing bunk beds instead of the majestic beds in the previous rooms. She explained that they were at our disposal if any of the workers had to work through the night.

We continued to the old toilets, the laundry rooms, our dining area, and the room housing our cleaning supplies until I found myself standing in the middle of the kitchen again.

"Are we done?" I asked, so exhausted my legs could hardly carry me one more step.

Mom chuckled. "Yes, Honey, that's it for today."

I sighed, relieved.

"I still have a little left to do, so you'll have to wait here until I'm done. Then we can go home." She gestured for me to follow her.

It took every speck of energy I had left not to roll my eyes to the back of my head.

The last thing Mom could want after a day like this was a complaining daughter.

I stayed behind her, my eyes glued to the floor as my thoughts turned into daydreams.

Without warning, she suddenly rounded a corner. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to copy her move before I walked into the unyielding body of the person standing right in front of me.

The sound of porcelain shattering made me flinch before I could apologize.

"Cursed blood!" the man in front of me exclaimed.

The entire kitchen stopped moving, their eyes directed at us.

"You again, Milo?" one voice shouted, breaking the deafening silence with roaring laughter. Laughter from another person immediately followed suit.

"This is so typical of you, Milo!" the chef laughed, bending over to stay balanced.

I looked down and saw a nest of messy, brown hair. Underneath it was the man who had passed me by so close this morning that his cologne still stung my nose.

He was already picking up the scattered pieces of the flowery plate I'd caused to break.

I couldn't see his face, but the way the fabric of his white shirt stretched around his muscles indicated that he was physically fit — maybe even more than Koa.

Bewildered and slightly embarrassed by the laughing voices, I fell to my knees to help pick up the mess I'd made.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching for one of the larger pieces. Then a large hand grabbed my wrist before I could touch the porcelain.

"Don't!" he exclaimed, catching my eyes with a wild expression that made me jump.

I'd never seen eyes like his before.

They were narrow yet friendly. Their color was a mix of green and brown, waging war against each other to claim the space of his iris. Brown attacked from the periphery, and green moved from the pupil until they collided in a golden explosion.

He didn't look mad, only worried about my unbroken skin.

Others quickly came to our rescue with a handheld vacuum cleaner and a cloth. We moved back to give them space.