Chapter Eight

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"Calm down, you look fine."

Emmy glared at Taylor's casual approach, her chest heaving as she emerged from her room. It had taken her over two hours to get ready, and that was after she'd taken an eternity to choose what to wear. She still had no idea whether her dress was appropriate. What on Earth were you supposed to wear to dinner with the country's fashion icon?!

"Fine?" Emmy quoted, then pouted as she turned away. "Thanks."

Taylor laughed at her expression. "I'll let Harry give you the more explicit adjectives."

Chris tutted slightly at her. "Well I, Emmy, think you look completely fuck-able."

Somehow, that didn't make Emmy feel all that much better. "Chris, you're gay. Are you saying I look like a man?"

Chris chuckled. "I didn't say I'd fuck you..." He grinned, then swallowed a laugh and made a straight face. "Honestly, Em, you look lovely."

"Do I?" She smiled gratefully. "I'm just so nervous," she said, wringing her hands anxiously. "These are Harry's brother and sister-in-law. What if-" She took a deep breath. "What if they don't like me?"

Taylor shook her head at her. "You're so silly, Em."

"Am I?" Emmy said. "Or am I being completely rational? How can you know? How many people have met their future brother and sister-in-law -in-law? How many people had to simultaneously meet the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge?!"

"They'll love you," Chris said dismissively.

"What if they don't?!" Emmy said. "What if they hate me? What if Harry's whole family hates me?!"

"At least Harry doesn't hate you," Taylor pointed out.

"Yeah, but I probably annoy him no end," Emmy replied, then growled in frustration and turned away, placing a hand to her forehead, sure that this was too scary and stressful to be anything but a hallucination. "Oh god-"

"Em, Emmy, calm down," Taylor said, getting to her feet to hold her best friend at arms' length. "Deep breaths. You'll be fine."

Emmy closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be fine," she repeated.

"Yes you will," Taylor said, squeezing her hand then winking at her. Before she could continue to reassure her, however, the sound of the buzzer echoed from the hallway, and she smiled. "He's here."

"Oh great," Emmy said sarcastically.

For a man that she'd known for almost no time at all, Harry could read her very well. Almost as soon as she had stepped from her apartment block to where he was waiting for her by his car, he'd read her like a book.

"You're nervous," he said.

"Well done," she replied, somewhat bitterly – was it that obvious?

"What are you nervous about?" he asked, opening the car door for her, then sliding in after her.

"What do you think?" she snapped, then sighed. "Sorry- just..."

"Nervous?" he suggested, with a wry grin.

"You could say that," she admitted. Then she glanced at the driver: a burly man, with a mop of curly black hair and a face that was frowning ahead. Harry noticed her staring.

"Emmy, this is Rick. Rick is my head protection officer," he explained slowly. Introducing people to his bodyguards was always an awkward experience for him, especially when they were normal, like Emmy. He worried that they'd find the fact that he had security guards strange. Normally, with girls, he worried that it would scare them away.

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