It was almost like she had a c-c-c—-

No. It couldn’t be. This…this was just like when she had started watching The Flash and it was crush at first episode. She had crushed on the lead actor so hard she had even started writing The Flash fan fiction.

But it hadn’t meant that she loved Grant any less.

This thing with the prince was the same, Fawn told herself almost feverishly. He was such a famous playboy he was virtually a celebrity himself, making them belong to two different worlds.

Which means it’s okay to admire the prince, she reasoned. Because he was like a celebrity, too, and similar to The Flash, she had to believe that this fascination of hers would eventually-—

“Once you’re done with your conversation with yourself, perhaps we could start?”

Realizing she had been staring at him the whole time, Fawn mumbled, “I wasn’t talking to myself.”

“Of course you weren’t.”

Riiiight. It was so obvious he was saying that just to humor her, and Fawn bit back an uneasy sigh. When a full minute passed and the prince hadn’t said anything else, she cleared her throat and asked, “Is t-there something I can do?”

“You’ve forgotten then. ”

“Forgotten what?”

The prince said gently, “You’ve completed one month of service, Fawn. Today I’m going to evaluate your performance and decide whether you can be a permanent addition to my staff.”

Mary Joseph and Jesus, she had forgotten.

But he didn’t have to know that.

“I could never forget, prince, like seriously.”

“Mm.” The prince had come to the realization that she had a tendency to use ‘seriously’ when she was lying, and he stored it away for future use. Swiveling his seat to the side, the prince raised Igor’s report to eye level, saying thoughtfully, “A couple of incidents have been noted in your performance report.”

She didn’t like the way the prince stressed the incident part.

“To start with, the first incident is the time you put salt in my coffee—-” He saw Fawn bite her lip hard. “You wish to contest this, parthena mou?”

“But I thought you already forgave me for that,” she blurted out.

“I see.” How terribly, adorably naïve of her, he thought lazily. Maybe one day, he could teach her just how he liked a woman to beg his forgiveness.

But for now—-

His gaze moved back to the report. “Continuing with the report, there’s also the time you broke a 17th century vase—-”

“But you said you agreed it was an accident,” she couldn’t help protesting. “And I also offered to put it back together again—-”

“With washi tape,” he reminded her. And even to this date, he had no idea what that was, but knowing her, it probably wouldn’t be worth researching in this case.

“Would duct tape have been better? I’m flat broke right now, but I could probably stomach asking my fiancé to buy it—-”

The prince’s jaw hardened at the mention of the other man in Fawn’s life.

Fawn’s voice trailed off when she saw the look on the prince’s face. Right, she thought. Clearly, duct tape was going to make it worse. She had made the semi-right call with washi tape then.

“Lastly, there’s the note-taking incident.”

Fawn tried not to cringe at the reminder. She remembered that day very clearly. The prince’s secretary had been on sick leave, and he had asked her to fill in because he needed someone to type certain documents for him.

“Can I at least defend myself, prince?” she almost pleaded. At his nod, she said eagerly, “You see, I do the same thing for Grant, a lot of times, for his work with the Student Council.”

“Is that so?” The prince cracked his knuckles, wondering when he could have the pleasure of sinking his fist into Grant Bennett’s boyishly handsome face.

She nodded eagerly. “I even downloaded an app that lets me practice note taking while the app reads out articles and excerpts from books. I really didn’t want to do anything that could make anyone think I’m not a suitable girlfriend for Grant.”

“How perfectly nice.” And right now, he felt perfectly murderous. “Given all that, I’m curious to find out why you’ve failed then.”

“It’s your accent—-”

He said frostily, “I do not have an accent.”

“But you do, prince,” she protested.

“I beg your pardon?” His tone was ominously soft, the prince unused to having someone challenging his word.

But instead of effectively frightening her into submission, it only had her gasping, “There it is! See how you said ‘pardon’?” At his blank look, Fawn said again, “Pardon.” But this time she tried to sound British while attempting to move her lips the way the prince had moved his. “Do you see now?”

The prince wondered how was it that he could still want to taste her even while he also wanted to see her dead. He took a deep breath. “Fawn?”

The prince’s calm voice made her sigh silently in relief. “Yes, prince?” Thank God he saw her point.

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