By morning, there was a heavy pounding on Clarisse’s door. It took her a minute to realize the incessant knocking came from her wards. She was not expecting a visitor but judging by the consistency and sheer brazen nature of the continuous knocks, Clarisse hypothesized that it had to be the Prince. Her nostrils flared hot for a moment and Clarisse immediately sprung out of the bed and charged at the door. That man had not the slightest idea what male decency seemed to be. As she unlatched the door, ready to spew thunder and venom, she remembered the words of the Grand duke. In his point of view, Malachi was certain that the Prince was interested. Her stomach churned reimagining that sentence. Nothing disgusted her more. Wearing a plastic smile, Clarisse opened the sturdy doors and greeted
