Before dinner, Jett and Bella stood in a hallway that wasn't used often. She was leaning against the wall as he flirted relentlessly, whispering in her ear. She had her hands on his chest, smiling and giggling while he spoke dirty thoughts in her ear.
"Arabella! What's the meaning of this!" A deep husky voice bellowed from down the hall.
"Oh no! The king. Bow," Bella turned and curtsied. "Your Highness. I was just heading to dinner."
Jett backed up and bowed to the royal. Looking up through his lashes, knowing he wasn't supposed to be making eye contact with the king until spoken to. The man's presence was intimidating. Few men made Jett nervous.
"You, sir. You are Mr. Flynn. Duchess Cora says Arabella would like you to escort her to the ball. Is this correct?" The king reached them in his wheelchair with his nurse.
"Yes, sir. I mean, Your Majesty."
"Humm? Not the traditional Mecca Island way. Why should I allow a commoner access to the princess?"
