Bound By The Crown

Chapter Twenty Four

Lisanna Moore's P. O. V

Sipping away at my smoothie, I shake the metal straw around while my eyes dart around the fancy kitchen with all its various stainless steel appliances and fancy Chef, with whom knows how many Michelin stars under his belt. I peruse my surroundings, taking note of the industrial kitchen with a frown.

It seems a bit too excessive since I don't believe many fancy dinners and what not are hosted here. I guess, who am I to judge what the Royals do with their own money. My eyes narrow at the thought of our taxes going to things like this before I shrug it off.

The Chef did make one mean smoothie.

"Settling in well, aren't you?" A voice calls out as the owner slips in through the see- through door, leaning against the precipice as she throws her flowing hair over her shoulder. Samantha returns my smile as I deftly shrug, feeling exhausted after waking up at the crack of dawn so I could run to my office after which I didn't even allow myself a break, only to rush to the Estate and do Mr. Sinclair's bidding.

I nod my head while tightening my grip on the glass in front of me, trying my hardest to fight off the yawn which threatens to split my face in half. Batting my eyelids repeatedly, I gulp down the rest of the thick smoothie, hoping to get some energy, but I don't think even the smoothie will wake me up at this point. Caffeine won't help me now.

I've hit my mid afternoon slump and that too in the worst way possible.

Feeling like a petulant child, I excuse myself from Samantha's company. The woman already knowing I have to go visit the grumpy Prince who's in one of his moods again. Each step that takes me towards the office feels like another kilo of weight added to my legs, weighing me down without any choice of my own.

Knocking on the door, I don't wait for an answer and let myself in much like I have the past few days. You could say I'm getting a bit too comfortable in the man's presence ever since we kissed, although I'm definitely getting comfortable enough to do anything like that as of yet.

My eyebrows raise a single centimetre at the empty office. The Prince nowhere to be seen, which is very unusual for the man considering he practically lives and breathes in this office. Too tired to be any more surprised, I sulkily make my way towards the two-seater couch and deposit myself onto it.

Immediately, I think of how dangerous this is. I've sat here countless times before, but today this piece of furniture is irrevocably dangerous. Why? Because, to my drained body, this fancy couch feels like a literal cloud inviting me into its warmth and comfort.

My head lolls down and then lurches up as I blink repeatedly.

Do. Not. Fall. Asleep.

Unfortunately, my conscious is at war with my body because before I know it, my body slumps down and my head falls to the side. Not the best comfortable position, but the last fleeting thought I have is that my neck will hurt when I open my eyes again.

I'm taken pleasantly by surprise when no rude interruptions greet me. Instead, I'm softly roused from my sleep with and quiet. One part of me does find this incredibly suspicious considering where it was that I had fallen asleep. Practically in the lion's den. A comfortable sigh escapes me while my hands grab onto the soft blanket covering me, tugging it up higher on my body while I kick my feet out languidly onto the bed beneath me.

It takes a few seconds for my sleep laden brain to process my words. When everything finally does catch up to me, do I jerk upright in sheer alarm.

Bed?

Blanket?

Peering my eyes open, I wait with bated breath as my eyes take in my surroundings. The first thing I notice is the soft fluffy blanket that has been draped over me. The second thing that garners my attention is that I'm wrong. I'm not laying on a bed but rather the couch I had unprofessionally fallen asleep on.