He had on tight blue jeans and was shirtless and barefoot.Damn. He had a body to match the face. I ran my hand through my hair, unsure of what to say ...r do, as he made his way back to the open door. He handed me a folded-up piece of paper.“This is my number,” he said, “So if I am a bit loud, just call me, unless of course you want to just come and knock on my door.”I lingered, trying to figure out what to say, not because I was at a loss for words. I can speak my mind when I need to. I. The Naithan throw rug proved an obstacle. My tiny legs sank into the gaps in the colorful weave, slowing me down. I had to move with care, putting my legs down on individual threats, balancing on them as I crossed the room.It felt so huge at this scale, the ceiling out of sight.I clicked in relief once I scurried off and reached my door. I squeezed through and raced down the edge of the wall to my father’s study. This was the most dangerous part. If a palace servant saw me and decided to squash. More

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