Twisted-Games

beneath it.
“Your Highness.”
We stared at each other, our chests rising and falling in sync. Even from
halfway across the room, I could see the pulse fluttering at the base of her
throat. The tiny beauty mark beneath her left ear. The way her dress hugged
her hips like a lover’s caress.
I never thought I’d be jealous of a dress, but here we were.
“You’re just in time.” Mikaela’s voice shattered the spell. “We need a
third opinion. Bridget and I can’t agree.”
“On what?” I kept my eyes on Bridget, who remained frozen where she
stood.
“What should rank higher when it comes to a romantic partner,
intelligence or a sense of humor?”
Bridget’s shoulders stiffened, and I finally dragged my gaze away from
her to Mikaela. “Rank?”
“We’re ranking the guests for Bridget’s birthday ball,” Mikaela
explained. “Well, I am. She refuses. But there’s going to be so many men
there, and she can’t dance with them all. We need to narrow it down. There’s
one dance slot left, and I’m torn between Lord Rafe and Prince Hans.” She
tapped her pen against her chin. “Then again, Prince Hans is a prince, so
maybe he doesn’t need a sense of humor.”
My warmth at seeing Bridget again vanished.
“What,” I said, my voice a full two octaves lower than normal, “are you
talking about?”
“Bridget’s birthday ball.” Mikaela beamed. “It’s doubling as a
matchmaking event. We’re going to find her a husband!”