Royale (Book #1 Royale Series) {Under Revision}

Chapter Twelve {Revised}

         

Juliana

There is no function, charity event, gala, dinner, or party that I love to participate in quite more than the Secret Santa ceremony our family hosts each year. It's because it is simply the only time of year we are never obligated to host any boring nobles, greedy politicians, or uptight royals. It is strictly a family event. But this year, our small intimate gathering also includes the Carlisle's. And not only that, but there are new rules that must be abided by.

Before, we would each draw names, get the person whose name we drew a gift, and not divulge to anyone what name we received. This year, the rules are not much different. The only difference is that every member of the Clairborne family was forced to draw a name from the member of the Carlisle family. And every member of their family only drew names from ours. As if buying gifts for royals isn't difficult enough, considering everything we could ever want could be granted to us with a snap of our fingers, but this year we must buy gifts for royals whom we hardly know. We drew names at breakfast the morning after the dinner party. I drew Skylar Michaelson, Aspen's cousin. And it took everything in me not to ask Aspen what I should get her.

I walk into my chambers, fresh from my impromptu tea party with Ella. I freeze in my tracks as I enter.

Aspen's back is turned to me. Save for a single towel wrapped around his waist, he wears no clothing. His body glistens with water droplets, fresh from a shower.

My entire body is riddled with heat. I turn around. I clear my throat in the most obnoxious manner that I can manage. I can hear him shift.

"Oh, there you are—" he stops short. He chuckles. "You are joking, right?" he asks, the humor evident in his voice.

Though my back is turned, I cross my arms petulantly anyway.

"I'm not turning around until you are fully dressed," I tell him. And I mean it.

"Jules, you act like you've never seen a—"

"I haven't!" I practically yell before he can finish that statement. "So just—get dressed."

He chuckles again, but I can hear shuffling.

"Okay, Jules. You can cease with the histrionics," he says, humor still bleeding through his voice.

I slowly spin back around. He is dressed now, decadently clad in a dark gray dress shirt and light-colored pants.

"I meant to ask," Aspen starts. "Why must we all wear gray for the ceremony? It's really not my color," he says, grinning.

     I'd beg to differ, I think, and almost as quickly as the thought arrives, I push it back. I hate myself for allowing such inappropriate thoughts surrounding Aspen to cloud my senses.

"In our country, gray represents giving. And in the spirit of Christmas, it's the season of giving...etcetera, etcetera," I tell him, gesturing to my own gray gown hanging on the mannequin across the room.

Confusion is etched across Aspen's face. "Well, if we were donating to charity, I'd understand the theatrics, but are we not receiving gifts as well? That kind of cancels out the giving."

I smirk. "Don't think about it too hard. Just stand there, look pretty, and accept your gift."

Aspen grins. "Standing, looking pretty, receiving gifts—all things I'm quite good at."

"Hmm, is humility another of your strengths?" I ask sarcastically.

He laughs. "I'll meet you downstairs so you can change," Aspen says, his tone still humorous. "I wouldn't want to accidentally see you naked again. This time, you might actually have to be sedated."