Jeniva froze, her hands slipping from his shoulders as her bottom lip began to tremble. Large tears pooled in her eyes. "I'll complain about you to my father," she whispered, sounding more like a wronged child than a royal aide.
Dominick broke into a genuine laugh, the sound rich and startling in the quiet of the room. It had been days since he had felt the urge to laugh like this. "You think your father can do something about this? I'm a prince, Jeniva. You're forgetting who you are speaking to," he remarked.
"That's why you act so highly of yourself," she shot back, ignoring his rank.
He had already gently unlatched her hands from his shoulders, shifting slightly to create a sliver of space between them. But Jeniva wasn't finished. "Your Highness, your coat is drenched in that scent. You should definitely remove it. It makes me feel... Strange. And if you ask me to leave, I won't. I feel good here. My room feels colder, even with the fireplace."
