Why the balls? Why? I groaned, slapping the palm of my hand against my forehead for the hundredth time over the past few hours. This is all Montgomery's fault.

He was a big, strong guy who easily could've dragged my tiny butt from the conference room without breaking a sweat. But, nope, the allegedly intelligent guard thought seductively whispering my name in my ear was a much better idea.

"Argh," I huffed pitifully, flopping onto my back on the gray chaise lounge in the library. Even the worst side of my conscience couldn't even blame Montgomery for my spectacular loss of control.

What if the guy had penis cancer or something? My mind suddenly asked as my hands grabbed the closest throw pillow to hold over my face. What if my swift kick to the nuts just made it worse? Could I smother myself with a pillow?

My head was a hot mess at the moment, chasing fourteen different thoughts at once. My heart ached for my dad. My brain kept replaying the entire meeting even though my body begged for rest. A tiny voice whispered, "Step down. You're not good enough to be a queen, you idiot."

As soon as I closed my eyes, a few warm tears slid down my cheeks. No one – not even my mom – could comfort me because even I didn't know what I needed or wanted. I just wanted to be left alone with my wandering thoughts and wild emotions for a few hours. Phil knew that more than anyone the moment my foot smashed into the scumbag's genitals.

Even as pure rage sprinted through my body, regret and self doubt soon flooded me when Montgomery pulled me from the conference room and quickly ushered me into the elevator. During the short ride to the main floor, I kept my eyes closed, took deep breaths, and listened to the silence surrounding me. I trusted Phil had sent the guys a non-verbal message saying, "Don't talk or manhandle her right now unless you want your precious jewels demolished to smithereens."

No one had said a word during the ride home or when I immediately headed to my room to scrub off my shame in a long, hot shower. Phil was my best friend for a reason because a charger for my tablet, a water bottle, and a folded blanket waited for me on the round table in the empty library. Even if she didn't leave a chocolate chip cookie, a frosted brownie, or a tub of chocolate ice cream, I didn't deserve her patience and kindness whenever I shut down.

Unusual movements and sounds outside the closed library door caught my attention as I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. Awkward, heavy thumps slightly rattled the door. I held my breath, hoping whoever it was would leave, because I still wasn't in a chatty mood.

But the uneven thuds continued, and my heart began racing when I heard desperate scratches and pitiful whines.

Hellhounds! I thought frantically, sitting straight up and whipping my head around the library in search of some sort of weapon. But a more reasonable and realistic concern managed to slow down my heart rate. What exactly was a hellhound? I really needed to stop watching horror movies with Phil right before bedtime.

Once my senses returned, I realized a so-called hellhound was another term for dog and I rolled off the chaise in a mad scramble to open the door. Two familiar gigantic canines sat impatiently side by side, tails excitedly thumped against the hardwood floor and dark eyes widened with happiness, as I flung the door wide open.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, immediately falling to my knees and opening my arms.

The black dog, which I guessed was named Samson because it seemed fitting, barreled into my arms first and plopped his huge butt in my cross-legged lap. I laughed and wrapped my arms around him when he let out a loud sigh of contentment.

Marley, the black brindle, whined a bit and nudged a wet nose against my face.

"Hey, sweetie," I cooed, laying my head against Samson's rough fur and reaching out to gently scratch Marley's chin.

Like his brother, Marley sighed happily and laid next to me, resting his face on the spare space of my thigh not taken up by Samson's big butt.

The tears flowed fast and freely and a desperate sob escaped from my throat as I realized what I desperately needed.

Unconditional love without judgment. And silence.

Phil had the capability to give me all that, but emotionally letting go in the company of animals was more comfortable.

Pets didn't care I looked like a hot mess with a snotty nose and red eyes. They didn't seem to care my cries sounded painful and pitiful. But, most of all, they didn't care how long I needed to pull myself together.

My surprise visitors joyfully fulfilled those requirements without even knowing it. Or maybe they did.

A good ugly cry usually soothed the ache in my heart and occasionally provided a bit of clarity.

I missed the warmth of my dad's hugs, his dumb dad jokes, and his words of wisdom.

I needed my mom to wrap her arms around me and whisper, "Everything will be okay."

The idea of becoming a queen for a country I had never heard of until a few weeks ago terrified me.

On the surface level, the concept sounded fun and exciting. Travel the world. Meet new people. Wear cute outfits. Maybe cuddle with a koala bear or panda.

But on a deeper level, my sense of privacy and normal security would be stripped from me. I was never one who needed to be the center of attention, but was I even comfortable with the world watching, critiquing, and judging me? Internet trolls would be way more brutal and terrifying than the snooty attorneys.

Was I strong enough to handle unwarranted negative comments and criticism? I honestly didn't know.

Samson and Marley remained steadfast as my tears and sobs softened over time.

"Winter!"

Phil's sudden screech from the main level interrupted my small pity party.

I pursed my lips in confusion when a high-pitch whine and a short bark followed shortly after my best friend's disruption.

Samson turned his head toward me, seemingly giving me a "what's going on" look.

I shrugged, hastily rubbing the ugly cry from my eyes, as I heard Phil stomping up the stairs.

"Out of my way, Montgomery," she growled before appearing in the open doorway, where she held a squiggly Cordy at arm's length with two hands.

My heart leaped for joy at the sight of the cute little pup, squirming to escape. I reached out and plucked the canine from her hands. Cordy immediately cuddled into my chest as Samson remained in my lap and harrumphed loudly, as if he didn't like the idea of sharing my affection and attention with another guest.

"How you doing, kid?" Phil asked, crashing into one of our favorite oversized chairs and letting her long legs dangle over one of the arms.

I shrugged one shoulder and made a face. "Better."

Silence enveloped us since neither knew what to say next. I didn't feel like rehashing the events, and Phil seemed to understand that even as she subtly scowled at Cordy cradled in my arms. With her parents traveling a lot when she was younger, Phil didn't grow up with pets but she normally didn't mind being around them. Well, she strongly preferred cats over dogs because, according to her, dogs were smelly and too needy. She wasn't wrong.

"You're gonna adopt a dog, aren't you?" Phil asked, breaking the comfortable lull between us.

"Probably," I admitted, resting my head against Samson's back, and thought about how lucky Prince Grayson and Princess India were to have such loyal dogs to keep them company.

Wait a second, the rational part of my mind realized, slowly piecing together a complicated puzzle or finding the solution to world hunger.

I lifted my head to see Phil grinning at me like an idiot as if she could actually see the wheels in my brain spinning.

Why were Samson, Marley, and Cordy here?

A light knock on the door frame interrupted my thought as Phil and I noticed Prince Grayson rubbing the stubble on his chin and leaning against the doorjamb. Montgomery and Weber stood stoically behind him.

"Sorry for the intrusion," the prince said quietly, his eyes sweeping over me sitting on the floor surrounded by his dogs.

"Hi," I said meekly as my gut instinct screamed at me to stand and curtsy or something. But one dog occupied by arms, and another sat comfortably in my lap.

"Come in," Phil invited, waving an arm over to an empty chair next to her. "Have a seat."

Prince Grayson nodded, pushing himself off the frame and folding himself into the empty plushy chair. Dressed in faded jeans, a gray t-shirt, and black-framed glasses, he still appeared as beautiful as ever. Phil was lucky to call dibs when she did.

"I, um, I want to apologize," he stammered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Why was he nervous? I thought, raising a brow with curiosity, and glanced at Phil, who simply shrugged.

"I want to apologize for my behavior the other day," Prince Grayson explained, raking a hand through his thick dark hair. "I was rude and inconsiderate, and I apologize if I made you ladies feel uncomfortable in any way. I was having a bad day."

"Oh. Thank you," I replied simply. What the hell was the proper protocol for a casual conversation with a prince? Should I ask him about his bad day?

"My mother also wanted to know if you wouldn't mind watching Cordy until India returns in two weeks," he continued, glancing at the sleeping pup in my arms. "She has been a whiny little bi-, uh, um, brat ever since you left."

"Yes!" My lips stretched into a wide smile at the prospect of having the "brat" sleep with me at night and follow me eagerly around the house.

"My mom sort of figured you would accept. So, I brought a bag of food and treats and a few of her toys."

"Thank you."

"I, uh, heard about what happened today, and I, um, thought Samson and Marley might cheer you up," he continued nervously as one foot tapped lightly against the hardwood floor.

My head dropped in shame, unable to watch his or anyone else's reaction, because I carried enough regret to last until the end of the week. Maybe into a second a week.

"Most of them are pretentious assholes," the prince said bitterly. "They've gotten a little too comfortable with their jobs since they really haven't had that much to do once my father was crowned king."

"Oh," I replied softly because, again, what the hell should I say without sounding nosy or whiny?

"Before my sisters headed to Zambia, they tried to instill fear in them, cautioning them to behave appropriately and all that other shit." Prince Grayson shook his head and smirked. "But, fortunately, our mom was there, and she ended up instilling the fear of God in them instead."

Phil and I giggled as I guessed we both imagined the queen scowling and throwing the best stink eyes at the stupid lawyers.

"They seriously are assholes," he repeated, watching Marley amble over and sit between the space between his legs. "They preach about looking perfect but never follow their own advice. Terry, uh, Mr. Ament married his fifth wife, who is younger than his youngest daughter from his first marriage, last summer. I honestly don't know how many kids he has right now."

Dare I ask about the lawyer I kicked in the nuts? I thought, with a bit of apprehension. Was there a polite way to ask if someone had cancer?

"What about Conway?" Phil asked casually, cementing her status in the imaginary Best Friends Forever Hall of Fame. Trademark pending.

For the first time since his arrival, Prince Grayson seemed comfortable and actually grinned at me as his dark eyes held a hint of mischief. "Do not – and I repeat – do not feel bad for crushing his peanuts, Winter. That guy is the worst. He must have some really good dirt on important people because I honestly don't know how that guy still has a job."

Hmph. Interesting.

"You actually did my father a favor, giving him plenty of valid reasons to fire half the attorneys."

I'm sorry ... what?

"What?" I sat up straighter, my eyes widening with fear. The thought of a bunch of lawyers angry at me didn't comfort me at all.

The prince shrugged a muscular shoulder, stroking the top of Marley's head. "They're assholes that took advantage of their position. They were supposed to guide you and make you feel welcomed not make you feel bad for kissing a stripper at a bachelorette party."

A frustrated groan rumbled from my throat as I rolled my eyes. Not in embarrassment or shame. At the lack of privacy and incessant gossip. Even though I truly had no skeletons in the proverbial closet and the stripper kiss photo would remain somewhere on the internet forever, I didn't like the idea of virtual strangers searching through my life with a fine-tooth comb.

What happened when they deemed my life too boring and decided to dig into the lives of my family and friends? What if they had skeletons? I doubted they did, but they could. How in the world did I protect them?

"Also, my parents have reached out to a few attorneys they know in the States," Phil added reassuringly. "They know a few would travel out here to represent you in the initial phase."

I shot my best friend a huge smile, relieved my support system was slowly growing.

"Thank you," I said sincerely to the prince, resting my head against Samson's back once more. "For bringing Samson and Marley here. I definitely needed them today."

When the grin from his handsome face faded slightly and the soft rhythmic tap of his foot began again, I wondered why he felt so protective of his dogs in my presence. Did his non-existent gut warn him I was a danger to animals? Other than believing a mama cat and her four kittens could survive peacefully in a backpack fit for my ten-year-old self, I loved animals more than certain people.

"Uh, yeah, no problem," Prince Grayson acknowledged, with a nervous smile.

A loud, fake cough from either Montgomery or Weber conveniently distracted me from kindly asking the stupid handsome prince why he had a problem with me being around his dogs. Because one of his pride and joy sat happily in my lap for at least half an hour. Even though numbness took over one of my legs, I had no intention of scooting the magnificent beast away from me.

Montgomery and Weber took a small side step in opposite directions when a third guard I didn't recognize strode toward the doorway with a huge tray filled with chocolate chip cookies and huge bowls of different kinds of ice cream.

I gasped with pure excitement at the delectable desserts as the guy placed the tray on the table and mumbled a few words to Montgomery before disappearing down the stairs. My heart filled with so much damn adoration for my best friend, who didn't forget what I really needed after all.

Before reluctantly pushing Samson off me, I buried my face in his rough fur to hide an indescribable amount of hope and happiness blooming inside me. Maybe I was strong enough to be queen after all. Maybe.