Some Like it Easy (7 page)

“I’ve got studio time then work today. Be home late. Can you lock up on your way out?” She drained her coffee and ran. Instead of waiting for the elevator, she hit the stairs. The jog to the bottom floor got her blood racing and chased what remained of the cobwebs away.

Outside, the temps burned her lungs, but she double-timed her pace. She warmed by the time she slid into her seat in the lecture hall. Wiggling her toes in her boots, she checked the time on her phone. Five minutes to spare—excellent. Mallory would be—crap, she’d forgotten about Mal! She flipped over to her messages to see if Mal sent any word.

Only one unread message, sent a little after midnight, saying she was heading home with Penny’s parents to get some sleep. No idea when she’d be back in New York, she’d call when she could.

If Penny hadn’t been wrapped around George, she might have gotten the message or at least been able to call her. Kansas was still an hour behind her, but she didn’t want to text in case Mal was asleep. Grimacing, she switched to her email and then checked her bank account.

Pitifully low.
Pick up my paycheck today and deposit it.
Her savings account wasn’t much healthier. It took a hit from Christmas shopping. By the time the professor began the lecture, Penny had pulled out a sheet of paper and tried to calculate exactly how short she was.

After class, she ran across the quad to work at the student bookstore. It paid next to nothing, but she got discounts on materials and supplies—and time to study when she didn’t have to help anyone or unpack a box. Fortunately, her check waited for her. George texted, but he was in class by the time her shift ended. She fired off a quick text back and detoured by the bank to deposit the paltry sum. Fortunately, she had some food there because she was starving. She only had a couple of hours, but actually got the sword shaped pretty damn well by the time she was ready to let it cool.

Ninety minutes of art history later, she made a beeline for the diner where she waitressed a few times a week. She had less than a minute to spare when she clocked in. On the upside, the diner job also gave her at least one free meal and she’d put it in carryout to take back to the apartment when she was done. Scoring extra chicken fingers, she could share them with George or eat them for breakfast the next day.

Juggling two side jobs, her course schedule and her art projects could be challenging on the best of days. On days when she worried about making rent and checked her phone a hundred times to see if Mallory was okay, the time crunch gave her something else to think about.

Late in the evening, she made her way back to the apartment building. She’d had a pretty healthy tip night and, once she raided the petty cash jar and took a couple of bracelets and rings to the pawn shop, she should be able to make rent. She could pick the rings back up the following week and she wouldn’t miss the bracelets.

Snow started falling while she worked in the diner and continued to accumulate. Her walk home was even chillier than her walk out. Some years, they got only one or two significant snowfalls the whole season. It seemed they’d had white stuff on the ground for weeks. Too bad she had nowhere to go sledding.

Or the energy to sled, for that matter. Grady exited the building as she strode up. He paused and held the door open, letting her in, before he followed her back inside. Nearly as tall as his protectee and not much older, the bodyguard reminded Penny of her brothers. He managed to say an awful lot while saying nothing. When the elevator doors opened, he held his hand out to allow her to enter first. Penny didn’t pretend any hidden energy reserves. She leaned against the wall and stared at him as the elevator began its ascent.

“Problem?”

“Not at all,” he replied evenly. Too evenly.

“Except you were leaving and now you’re not.”

A brief smile made an appearance on the corners of his mouth. “His Highness was concerned when you didn’t return as expected.”

“So he sent you?” That would make it a first…well, then again, not really. Now that she thought about it, he’d sent one of his men to drive Mallory to the airport. He’d sent a car for her once, too, when she’d finished up a class on the far side of campus and the weather had turned from snow to freezing rain and sleet.

“His Highness planned to come and walk you home himself, but we persuaded him to wait.” The elevator doors dinged open and Grady held them for her once more.

“Thanks.” She left him behind and headed for her apartment. George’s door opened the moment she reached hers and he stepped out. The worry in his expression reminded her of his earlier texts and her brief responses. “Hi, sorry I’m late.” She held up the plastic bag from the diner. “I brought dinner.”

“Thank you.” He closed his door before following her into the apartment. “No need to apologize. I was worried by the hour and the fact you’ve been out all day.”

“I had a long one. Gimme a sec to change.” She didn’t have to tell him to help himself, he knew where everything was in the kitchen. Detouring to her bedroom, she stripped and found a mostly clean t-shirt and sweatpants. Pausing, she grabbed all of her dirty clothes and stacked them into a basket. Seriously, her room looked like a dressing room at a mall at the end of a back to school shopping day.

At least three loads.
Climbing over the bed, she pulled a jar off a corner shelf. Pouring the coins out, she counted eight dollars in quarters—enough to wash and dry the clothes.
Mostly.
She could compact three loads into two. Thankfully, she didn’t wear a lot of wrinkle prone items.

Hauling the basket out to the living room, she stopped and stared. George had cleared off the coffee table and set it up with plates, cutlery and a couple of wine glasses—though he’d filled both with water.
Or maybe vodka, but not wine. We’re totally out of wine.
He frowned at the laundry basket and she set it on the floor to dig out some socks from the sofa, exactly where she’d left them a few days before.

“I thought we would eat,” he said, eyeing her laundry.

“Yes,” she agreed with a yawn. “But I have no clean underwear left, or jeans for that matter. So I’m going to carry these down to the basement laundry room and get them started. Then I’ll come back and eat.”

“The basement?” He rose and took the basket out of her hands as soon as she’d picked it up.

“Yes, where they keep the washers and dryers. And I can carry that.”

“I have it,” he nodded to the door.

“Sec,” she said, then dodged into the kitchen to get the detergent and dryer sheets. Leaving the sheets on the counter, she carried the bottle of detergent out. It was almost empty, but she could make it work.

George looked awkward in his deep blue shirt and dark jeans. Awkward and sexy. She liked the rumpled appearance. She also liked that shirt, but… “Do you want to throw some stuff in with mine?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Clothes. You’ve worn that shirt three times this week and three times last week. If you’re running low on clothes, I can make some room in my laundry for you.” She didn’t typically offer to wash anyone’s clothes. She had enough of that in junior high when she’d been stuck with household laundry duty for two months courtesy of breaking her curfew.

“No. Thank you, though.” He didn’t sound certain.

“You sure? I don’t mind, really.”

“You shouldn’t have to do laundry, Penny.” He ended the subject and juggled the basket to open the door. Grady met them at the elevator and rode down with them. If he had any thoughts on George carrying the laundry basket, he didn’t state them.

In the basement, she was grateful to find all the machines available, since the building only had four of each. Taking her time, she stuffed her clothes into two machines. She had less than she’d thought. Aware of George’s attention on her actions, she made a point of measuring out the detergent and adding it to both before feeding quarters in and firing the loads off.

“Okay, let’s eat.”

“You’re just going to leave them down here?” Skepticism ran riot in his tone and Penny laughed.

“Well I’m not going to sit down here and babysit them. I’m starving, I still have homework and I want to try to call Mallory.” She gave him a little nudge. “They’ll be fine.”

“I’ve asked Justin to come down, sir.” Grady said. “He can keep an eye on Miss Novak’s clothes.”

Seriously?
Penny rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t need to do that.”

“He does,” Grady said before George replied and joined the two of them in the elevator.

Rolling her head from side to side, she sighed. “I do laundry all the time. It’s fine. Takes about twenty-five minutes to wash and forty minutes to dry. Plenty of time to eat.”

“It’s done.” George’s tone announced the discussion was over, and she was too tired to argue.
Fine
. If he wanted to send a babysitter to watch her clothes, let them watch.

Once they were back in the apartment, she put up the detergent and George set the empty basket next to the door. Settling onto the sofa, she wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep. After sitting next to her, George passed her a glass of water and pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to her lips.

The gesture and the action softened her exhausted mood and she smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said wearing a smile of his own. “I missed you today.”

An alarm bell went off in the back of her mind, but she was too tired to care right then. “It was a
long
day. Tomorrow will be worse, but Thursday it gets better.” Thursday she would be able to pay the rent and could stop stressing over it.

“Yeah?” He passed a plate to her. “Tell me all about it.”

Weird, talking to George wasn’t like talking to Mallory, not at all. He seemed focused on what she said and even the boring details of her day fascinated him. When it was time to check on her laundry, she almost hated to leave him. Then he—and Grady—accompanied her to the basement where Justin waited and all three men oversaw her switching the laundry from the washer to the dryer.

Surreal and funny, but it made her smile. She was still smiling when she and George tumbled into bed. When midnight rolled around and Justin delivered her laundry, she was damn grateful that he’d been watching over her clothes.

“
I
n other news
, Nikolai Fyodorov, the Premier of Belaria issued a challenge amidst cease-fire talks between Separatists, Royalists, the New Labor Parties and his own, the United Belaria party. Elected a little over ten months ago, Fyodorov faced considerable opposition within Belaria in his attempts to unify under a banner of common objectives. Most vocal are the Royalist party, seeking a return to constitutional monarchy by restoring the Andraste family to their thrones, and the Separatist party, led by General Kachusov. Much like America’s Kennedy family, several members of the Kachusovs maintain active roles in the Belarian government, however their occupation of several Belarian towns, amidst charges of unfair elections, alienated much of the population and earned condemnation and threats of sanctions from several western nations. In an effort to bring the disparate parties together, Premier Fyodorov and other leaders met in Minsk this week for private talks. Among the items of their cease-fire discussion, the leaders considered the closure of Belarian borders and the deoccupation of towns currently under brutal military regime, while the people work to decide on whether to decentralize power. Fyodorov took his efforts a step further by offering amnesty to all who have not committed serious crimes against humanity, while those facing similar charges will be turned over to United Nations Security Forces, currently installed throughout the nation.”

The reporter stood in front of one of the older palaces in Minsk. Once a winter home to members of the royal family, currently it served as the headquarters for Komitet, the Belarian congress.

“The silence and lack of presence from the Andraste family during these tense negotiations is palpable. Circulating gossip suggests both Prince Sebastian, the heir to the family dynasty, and his younger brother, Prince George, have made appearances in Belaria over the last five years. Of particular note is the latter’s expressed interest in the Royalist party.”

And they were off again. George stared at the screen as a series of pictures played out. Of course they brought up the discovery of Alyxandretta, Armand’s marriage to Anna, before they returned to George’s support of the Royalist Party.

Unsurprisingly, his phone rang.

Setting aside his pen and notepad, he turned the cell phone over. Armand’s name and private line appeared in the ID field. Muting the television, he answered on the second ring.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” On the phone, he wasn’t required to bow or strictly observe protocol, but the reminder of his brother’s rank might serve to ameliorate whatever issue spurred Armand’s call.

“They’ve brought it up again,” he said without preamble.

“I know.” George sighed. “I’m watching it now.” The camera returned to the reporter posed outside the palace and the information band flashed his name twice before a picture appeared in the corner. One of a handful taken during his attendance at a rally hosted by the Royalists, the group listed their grievances with Belarian policy and expressed their hopes to return Andraste nobles to leadership so they could restore national order.

“Hopefully it will only be a flash in the pan, but you need to restrict your movements for a few days.” The advice would almost be funny, save for the fact that George had very little in the way of movements to restrict.

“As my current schedule involves going to class and occasionally to a coffee shop, how much further would you like me to restrict them?” He left off the royal caveat this time. So far, no one even realized who he was at the school, though his advisor had figured it out. He’d agreed to stay quiet.

“Don’t sulk, little brother. You understood my meaning.”

Of course he had, which didn’t make it any less annoying. “Yes, Armand. I did. I will repeat myself. I have no public appearances, no speaking roles, no interviews and no one knows where I am. As far as the university is aware, I am merely a student. The only ones who know where I am are family.” Penny and Mallory would say nothing. Chances were, Penny wouldn’t even know there was something
to
say. She and Mallory didn’t watch the news.

It depressed them.

Thinking about Penny offered momentary brightness to an otherwise dim day. In the week since they’d become lovers, he’d spent nearly every night in her bed save for the night before. Mallory’s return from Kansas elicited a need for ‘serious girl time,’ so George left them to it. In addition to her classes, Penny worked both jobs today, but she’d texted thirty minutes before that she would be home soon.

“Are you listening to me?” Armand’s voice intruded and George bit back his honest response. No, he hadn’t been—then he reconsidered. Perhaps a dose of truth would be healthy.

“Actually, no. I have an assignment to finish for tomorrow, and I’m hungry.”
For Penny
. Twenty-four hours without seeing her left him starving. A startled silence met his response and George smiled, wishing he could see Armand’s face and grateful that his brother couldn’t see his.

“I see.” Did he really? His brother didn’t immediately follow the statement with another for several long, noticeable seconds. “How are your classes going?”

“Well enough, I suppose.” He hadn’t informed his family of his course of study. When Armand didn’t comment further, George assumed either his brother didn’t know or had elected to let him make his own decisions for once. Either way, he would accept the courtesy. “Actually, allow me to rephrase. I am enjoying my classes. Not all, some are dreadfully dull mandatory requirements, but others have meat.” Particularly Social Critiques and Histories of Economic Structures and Projections of Power—the lectures were invigorating and the research thought-provoking.

“I’m genuinely glad to hear it.” A light thump of noise suggested his brother leaned back in his chair. “Sebastian’s wedding has been moved to June first.”

“I know.” He’d received the notification a few days earlier. The move from the end of the month to the beginning confirmed his suspicions. “When will you and Anna announce?” One could ask without asking.

“Not immediately.” The lack of denial offered another surprise. “She wants to wait until the first trimester is complete.”

Drawing a circle on the margin of his notepad, George smiled. “Well, then I shall reserve my congratulations until that date.”

“Thank you.” No denying the grin in his voice. The silence stretched awkwardly. Nearly all of their conversations in the last year began and ended with Armand giving him orders—where to go to school, what social events to attend—or reprimanding him for his actions. Since they had neither to discuss, it seemed they had little to discuss at all.

“I should go.” He checked the time. Penny would arrive any minute. “I have to finish this paper.”

“I have matters to attend, as well.” It seemed an equitable place to end the call, but Armand added, “Keep your head down. If the press does seek you out, make no statement.”

No kidding.
He made a murmur of agreement and waited for his brother to disconnect. Once he had, George leaned his head against the sofa and stared at the news. They’d moved on to other parts of Europe, but the ticker referred to Belaria three more times. If the ceasefire didn’t work, the country faced civil war. It wouldn’t matter who won because the bloodshed would be enormous.

Another glance at his watch. Penny should have returned. He headed to her apartment, intending to knock and check on her. If she were exhausted, well he certainly couldn’t fault her. As usual, Grady waited for him. They’d staged cameras on every level of the building and one in his apartment. He didn’t care about the observation, he’d grown up with it. Since his and Penny’s relationship had taken an intimate turn, they dialed back the observation when he was with her.

“She’s on the roof,” Grady advised before he could knock on Penny’s door.

“The roof?”
Why would she go up there?

“Justin has it under watch, but she came in about five minutes ago then turned around and headed straight up there.”

Nodding once, he ducked back into his apartment to grab his coat and a second one for Penny. Grady bypassed the elevator and opened the door labeled roof access. He hadn’t gone up to the roof since moving in. Frankly, he hadn’t gone very many places—the university campus, a local coffee house, a couple of restaurants, and some shops. Despite being invited to a handful of parties, he’d declined most based on Penny’s opinion of the groups. They’d planned to go to a couple, but then Mallory’s mother fell ill and she’d gone out of town.

The upper door to the roof was braced open, but not enough to flood the stairwell with cold air. Leaving Grady to handle it, George stepped out and glanced around Rather nondescript, the roof offered a partially sheltered area a few steps from the door and he found Penny huddled under the faux roof staring at the falling snow. Draping his second coat around her shoulders, he was surprised to find her smoking.

“Don’t make that face,” she said, waving the smoke away from him and bouncing on her feet. “I only smoke when I’m stressed.”

Raising his eyebrows, George settled next to her. “I’ve never seen you do it before.”

“I smoked the whole time I was in Switzerland, just not at the house.”

That definitely surprised him. “What were you stressed about at St. Moritz? As far as holidays go, I thought it relatively calm and pleasant.”

“Eh.” She shrugged and focused her attention on the cigarette in her hand. “I didn’t want to be in Switzerland.”

“A fact we established when you showed up in my suite.” Their conversation that day inspired him to come to New York, after all.

“Yes and no. I told you, I’m the bad seed, the wild child, the far from perfect one. All the pomp and circumstance with Anna being so perfect? It just reminded me of how imperfect I am.”

Self-pity was not one of Penny’s flaws. Nor an emotion she was prone to give into—at least not in the few weeks he’d gotten to know her. So what wasn’t she saying?

“I don’t recall your family treating you badly.” Though she avoided many of their dinners by slipping away to explore the city. In fact, he only recalled her sitting down for one meal—the Christmas dinner—then away she went again.

“They didn’t,” she said and exhaled a stream of smoke.

“All right, I will admit defeat. I am mystified as to what the problem was then and what it has to do with tonight.”

She made a soft sound that might have been a laugh before she pulled a crumpled piece of paper out and handed it to him. When she burrowed back into his long coat, he had to smile. It dwarfed her and yet looked striking at the same time. Unfolding the paper, he glanced down at the note written on official letterhead.

Her application for admission to the Sorbonne had been declined. His stomach bottomed out at the implications. He had no idea she’d even applied. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. The letter didn’t cite much in the way of reasons, in fact, it read very much like a form response. “The family has connections. I’m certain if you spoke to Armand—”

“No,” she said and shook her head in a sharp negative. “I don’t want them involved. I’m telling
you
because you’re my
friend
.” She held out her hand and he returned the letter. When she crumpled it into her fist, he covered her hand with his.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go.”

“It was an idea.” She shrugged. “An impulse.” For the first time, she lied to him. He could tell by the way her gaze slid away from his and the downturn on the corners of her mouth. Her desire to go to the Sorbonne had been more than an impulse. “They have a great arts program there, one of the best in the world, and it’s in Paris. Who wouldn’t want to go to Paris?” She crushed the cigarette out and tossed it into a receptacle he’d barely taken note of. When she reached for her pack, he tugged her toward him and wrapped his arms around her.

“Penny, I’m sorry they didn’t grant you acceptance. They must truly be blind.” He could call Armand, even if she wouldn’t.

“I don’t measure up.” She gave another half-shrug. “It’s the story of an artist’s life. Most aren’t good enough until they’re dead. Maybe I’ll die young and people will discover my hidden talent.”

Disliking that idea immensely, he simply said, “Or you will prove it to them regardless. How long ago did you apply?” Perhaps she’d missed something in the admissions procedures. Armand had people who handled that sort of thing. Not that George paid much attention to his enrollment beyond meetings with the academic advisor. Hell, he could probably do some research. His mother had a great many friends in the Paris social set.

Come to think of it…so do I.
Perhaps he could call in a favor or two. Find someone to sponsor her.

“End of last summer. Anna invited Mom and me to go with her on a trip to Paris. She had to do some events with your mother or something, I don’t know. It was a great excuse and I had a week before classes started. The whole time we were there, Mom was helping Anna and following her, and I went sightseeing.” Penny rubbed a hand over her face and George frowned. He really didn’t like the idea of her crying.

“Anyway, I’m on this hop on, hop off bus tour thing, and they drive by the school. I thought, I should check this out. I went to explore and you know there’s just something about Paris. I felt invigorated. Really jazzed up about the art, the history and the architecture…so I grabbed some information and filled out all the paperwork and submitted the application, along with a portfolio of my work.” When she shivered, George tightened his grip.

“Let’s go inside.”

“If I go inside, I have to see Mallory. She’ll take one look at my face and know something is wrong.” Then she added, “I didn’t tell her. She’s been stressed enough with her mom and everything.”

“You can come to my apartment,” he said. “We always sleep at yours, but I do have a bed.” One that would be far more comfortable with her in it.

“George…”

“I insist.” She didn’t need to be alone and, no matter what she pretended, she was upset. “I have a surprise for you.” Tucking her under his arm, he guided her toward the door. Grady pushed it wide for them. He gave Penny a concerned look, then raised his eyebrows at George. Understanding the silent question, George shook his head. He could handle the issue. Grady didn’t need to worry about it.