The Runaway Princess Read Online Free PDF Page B

it to begin with.”
    “Sounds promising.” Rolf’s full lips pouted in thought; then he turned his head, and addressed the nearest blonde. “Mirabelle, go down to the car and get the chiller, will you? Cheers, bambina.”
    He turned back to me while Mirabelle was still processing the instructions; as she swayed off on her heels, he slung an arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the long window where there was a tiny bit of space.
    I sensed Ted’s jaw drop, but something about Rolf seemed to be overriding my brain. It was like being on a hypnotist show. I hoped he wouldn’t ask me to quack like a duck or anything.
    “While we’re waiting for Mirabelle to make with the Moët,” he drawled in my ear, “I want to hear all about you and why it is that you’ve come dressed for bed already.”
    Well, Jo had been right about that. Fancy dress did get people talking with no effort!
    “It’s fancy dress, and I’m not dressed for bed, I’m dressed for a lie-in,” I said. In the reflection of the window I could see girls lining up behind me to talk to Rolf, hovering impatiently. I felt an unexpected frisson of triumph that he was talking to
me.
    Rolf raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “Uh-huh. A lie-in. I like lie-ins too. Especially after a late night.”
    “I’ve got bed socks on. Look, cashmere.” I shoved out a foot and nearly trod on a bowl of olives. My gormlessness didn’t seem to put him off though; he leaned back and gave me an appraising look.
    “I like to keep my socks on too,” said Rolf. “Saves time getting dressed after. If you know what I mean. I think you and I could have a lot in common, Amy.”
    He winked—but it was a wink too far, and without meaning to, I made a
bleurgh!
noise of horror, which I had to wrangle back into a
hmm?
face.
    Suddenly Rolf placed his hands on my shoulders and gripped, fixing me with another smoldering gaze. He wasn’t that tall. We were roughly the same height. “You stay
right
there, gorgeous,” he said in the voice of a much taller man. “I need to use your bathroom. Where is it?”
    I nodded across the hall, and he swaggered off, apparently unaware that he had a pair of oyster satin knickers dangling from his back pocket.
    The music and flirting started up again, and I tried to gather myself together.
This is okay,
I thought, as the last hastily gulped glass of Jo’s punch started to take effect on my balance.
I’m hosting, I’ve been chatted up, the gate-crashers seem to know Jo, no one has been sick or called the police. I just need … more food to soak up this booze.
    I swayed off to the kitchen and grabbed two sausage rolls from the giant pile, and since I was there I poured myself another glass of punch. It tasted different from the first three cups I’d had, but after my short ride on the Rolf Express I was feeling reckless. When I tried to leave the packed kitchen, the three Britneys had gone into a tearful group hug, and as I tried to crowbar my way past, the music went off and mass yelling broke out.
    This time it sounded serious.
    My short-lived triumph shriveled. I dropped to my knees and crawled between the Britneys to the sitting room, just in time to see Rolf in the middle of the floor, waving an iPod in one hand and (oh, my God) a green bra in the other, while Ted and a tall blond bloke attempted to grab them off him.
    “If you don’t let me put Abba on the stereo, I’m going to chuck this out of the window!” roared Rolf.
    “You’re not chucking anything anywhere! Not on my watch!” Ted roared back, putting his head down to rugby-tackle him, but Rolf nipped out of his grasp, shimmied over to the long window, and somehow managed to open it.
    Visions of the Christmas balcony drama danced before my eyes. That balcony wasn’t very big. Rolf was moving very fast.
Where was Jo?
    “Don’t let him get out there!” I yelled. “It’s not as deep as you’d think! It’s unsafe!”
    The blond man in the white shirt turned to look