I’ve been to Father’s work before, but never has he paraded me around as he does today. The attention I receive from the people there is both flattering and flustering.
There’s one person, however, who catches my attention when he takes my hand, placing a kiss on the back of it as he greets me, his eyes alight with interest, appreciation and humor.
I can’t help but blush, which brings a mischievous smile to his lips.
“Truly a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hale,” he rumbles. “Royce King III, at your service.”
Father’s chest swells with pride as I curtsey.