Chapter 20

Beatrice

Every muscle in my body aches, like the day after a big workout, in protest as I stretch out along the comfy bed.

The sun peaks through the curtains, and its warmth brings a smile to my face.

My head rolls over to the side, and I see the empty space beside me.

A moment later, I hear the muffled noise of a shower from across the room.

The shower? Oh, god! What have I done?

It feels like a bolt of lightning has struck my ass, and I jump out of the bed.

I spin around and look about the room, expecting to see someone from the Secret Service watching me.

What were you thinking, Beatrice? What if someone catches you?

Before I even try to think of a plan, I need to get dressed. Neither I nor Henry can afford for me to be found like this in his room.

I wrap the top sheet around me, just to be safe, and I begin my frantic hunt around the room in search of my clothes from the night before.

My body tells me to lie back down and relax.

My head tells me to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible.

My heart tells me to go jump in the shower with him and pick up where we left off—well, maybe it’s not just my heart that’s saying that.

The only one I can afford to listen to is my head right now. Listening to my body and my heart is what got me into this situation to begin with.

It’s not that I regret it—I don’t. Last night was everything I had hoped and imagined it would be and then some.

But this isn’t some fairy tale. There are real-world consequences here.

I find my panties first and slip them on under the blanket. Luckily, my bra is right there with it, and I throw that on next.

The blanket falls to my feet, and I nearly trip myself in it when I go to grab my dress off the floor.

I wiggle into the black satin as the impending dread of my walk of shame looms over me like a raging storm cloud.

My fingers wrap around the door handle to leave when it hits me.

“My shoes!”

Spinning around in a mad panic, I manage to catch sight of one shoe by the desk—but it’s only just the one.

When I lean down to pick it up, I see its twin under the bed. On my hands and knees, I reach under the bed to grab it.

I’m so wrapped up in getting my shoes and leaving that I don’t even realize that the shower has stopped, nor do I hear the click of the door to the bathroom opening.

It’s not until I hear the sound of his voice that I’m snapped from my frantic haze.

“Ummm, Beatrice? What are you doing?”

I pop up from behind the bed, and what I see has my heart thumping and my head telling me to never listen to it again.

Before me is President Hardbody wrapped in a white towel, steam rising from his body, as droplets of water slide along the grooves of his muscled body.

His azure eyes look at me with amusement—matched by his sexy, lopsided grin—and I bite down on my lower lip without even realizing.

“Bea?” he asks again with a small chuckle.

“Huh? Oh, I’m grabbing my shoes. I can’t just go back to the room naked, you know. It’s bad enough people will likely see me coming out of your room as it is. And I still have to get ready for the flight back home.”

“Oh, well, don’t worry about that.”

“Why not?”

“I already had a staffer grab your clothes and toiletries for you.”

His eyes turn away from me toward the desk no more than three feet away from me. I turn to look and see my bag and clothes already sitting there, waiting for me to take them.

“Oh...”

He makes a soft laugh, which draws my attention back to him—and his half-naked body.

God, I want to rip that towel off so badly.

“Look, why don’t you grab your stuff and take a shower? I’ll get dressed and wait for room service, and we then can have breakfast together. Okay?”

I nod in agreement as I get up off the floor.

That sense of frantic madness and dread of being caught coming from his room is gone.

Partly because it’s too late—people obviously know—but also because that smile of his puts me at ease.

I grab my clothes and toiletries and start off toward the steamy bathroom when I feel his strong hand grab my arm. I turn to face him just in time to catch his tender lips against my own.

Such a simple thing has me feeling as weightless as a feather.

“See you when you get out,” he says with a wink.

A smile forms on my lips as I nod.

“Looking forward to it.”

The second the door closes behind me, I lean back against it.

My smile grows wider as I’m flooded with memories of last night.

I strip down and take a moment to wipe away the fog clinging to the mirror. My eyes meet my own, and I can see them gleam with all the excitement that I feel in my stomach right now.

I wonder if he noticed it, too. But then, how could he not?

The hot water feels amazing against my muscles. I can almost hear them thanking me for the massage.

The water pressure is unreal. It outclasses my shower back home in every way. I almost don’t want the shower to end; it feels so good.

People always underestimate the effects a good shower can have on a person.

The sound of rushing water is quickly replaced by the muffled sound of Henry singing from the next room.

He’s not very good at it, but he’s at least very enthusiastic.

I open the door quietly and take a peek into the main room as Henry is setting the table for us.

“In a cradle all night. It swings, woo woo. It jives, woo woo. It shakes all over like a jelly fish...”

I close the door and put my hand over my mouth to muffle my giggle further.

Of course, he’s singing Queen.

It doesn’t take me long to put myself together when I get out of the shower. My hair is still a little damp when I put it up into a ponytail, but it’s nothing that the warm climate of Italy won’t correct soon enough.

When I step out of the bathroom, he’s lifting the tops off the trays of food.

And, as horrible as it sounds, I’m actually disappointed that he isn’t singing anymore.

“So, what did you order?”

He looks up from the trays and pulls my chair out for me.

“I got us some crespelle. They’re the Italian equivalent of crêpes. I got them rolled up and filled with strawberries, bananas, and Nutella.”

“All of which are my favorites.”

Henry gives me a shrug as his lips curl upward into a knowing grin.

I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows this stuff, but I’ve never had anyone go out of their way like this for me before, let alone the president of the United States.

He pushes in my chair as I sit down, and he takes his seat across from me.

“So, I was thinking we should talk about last night.”

There’s a bit of trepidation in his voice.

It makes my stomach tie itself into knots, and I feel like my heart is caught in my throat.

“You regret it, don’t you?”

“Regret it? God, no. Far from it,” Henry exclaims as he reaches across the table to take my hand in his. “If anything, I want to do more of that...for a long time.”

His hand squeezes mine affectionately, and I squeeze back in response.

I can’t even begin to describe the sense of relief that I feel overwhelm me at his words.

“It’s just that...it’s a precarious situation.”

“I understand that.”

“I don’t want this to stop, Bea, truly. And as amazing as last night was, I think it would be best to slow things down a bit.”

“I agree. We did kind of jump in head first, didn’t we?”

He nods and laughs in response.

It makes me smile and untwist those knots in my gut.

“So, we take things slow then?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, we take things slow. Something this good isn’t worth rushing into and potentially going down the drain because we acted recklessly.”

“Slow it is then.”

There’s a brief moment where I feel elated, but it quickly gives way to shock and awe.

I have just agreed to date the president of the United States.