“I should warn you, I easily melt under such intense gazes.”
Luke’s joke snapped Clarisse out of her little daydream about his abs and other immaculate things about him. She glared at the Crown Prince and, despite her nerves, began dragging him back to his car. Surprisingly, Luke didn’t wrestle his way out of her steely grasp.
“So, I haven’t discussed with you about the details of—” Luke started but was cut off immediately.
“You’ve made enough ruckus,” Clarisse snapped, “I’ll visit your office soonest and let’s talk then.”
Clarisse released her vice-like grip on Luke’s wrist as they reached his car. Luke raised a brow at her and she raised her chin indignantly in return. Did he really think that she’d back down now that she’d already smacked the heir to the throne, and now Regent of the kingdom she swore allegiance to?
Luke released a sigh of resignation.
“Very well then,” he said, “Konrard, let’s go.”