The-Sinful-King-By-Claire-Contreras-PDF

what it was. Even if we both wanted things to progress and
see where this went, nothing could happen. Like my mother
said, I was just a commoner to them. Like Etienne said, the
future could hold nothing for us. I needed to do a better job
at listening to those who loved me and wanted what was best
for me. I’d regroup in London, come back and go to the
queen’s residence on Sunday for dinner, and by then I’d have
put all of this behind me.
Nothing had changed in London. Not that I’d expected it to. As
I took my keys out of my pocket and walked toward my flat, I
looked at the park across the street and smiled at the sight of
the elderly couple sharing the bench there, the way they
often were. I lived in a vintage townhome, in a coveted street
in Kensington, which I was renting courtesy of one of my
father’s good friends. Dad lived here for a short time when
he was serving as an ambassador to France here in London.
He’d kept the job for four years before moving back to Paris,
but his contacts remained, and when I decided to move here,
he was able to secure the very same townhouse I’d fallen in
love with as a teenager. It was fancy and big, way too big for
me, but Joss had moved into one of the bedrooms, so that
helped. When I moved here after graduating college, I’d
promised my father I’d pay the rent as soon as my business
took o , and had since made good on my promise. Joss was
still in France, so as I reached the door, I knew I’d find the
place empty. I was turning to unlock the front door when I
heard the door of the townhouse next door squeak open and
saw Mrs. Parsons.
“You’re back.” She eyed me up and down. “You look
rumpled.”