Page 96 of That Prince is Mine
“Sorry for letting ourselves in while you were out.” Gabriel stood and clapped a hand on Michel’s shoulder. “It seemed prudent to remove her from the helipad and into a more private setting as soon as humanly possible.”
“You did the right thing.” Michel shot his cousin a half smile, but he quickly seemed at a loss for words. If he hadn’t seemed so bemused, Emma would’ve been a little hurt that he hadn’t made the introductions.
“Who’s that?” Marion crossed her legs on the sofa, twirling a strand of gleaming hair, and eyed Emma as though she expected her to curtsy.
“That, little sister, is Emma. Michel’s girlfriend,” Gabriel answered in a strained voice, his eyes nearly bulging with warning at his sister. A warning about what?
“Oooooh, intriguing.” Marion got to her feet with the fluid grace of a dancer and extended her hand to Emma. “Pleased to meet you.”
Intriguing? What could she mean?
“Nice meeting you as well.” Emma shook the other woman’s perfectly manicured hand. She didn’t particularly like her entitled, haughty manner, but she was Michel’s cousin so Emma intended to be as pleasant as possible. “So how long will you be in LA, Marion?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She dropped Emma’s hand after the briefest touch and sashayed over to the drink cart. “I prefer to let my spirit guide me rather than caging myself into a schedule.”
“A week,” Gabriel gritted through his teeth. “Max.”
“Cousin Michel.” Marion ignored her scowling older brother and waved her hand toward four giant Louis Vuitton suitcases by the door. “Could you have someone deliver my things to your spare bedroom?”
“Marion.” Sophie stepped in at last, her hand outstretched toward the younger woman. “Why don’t you come stay in my suite? We can catch up. It’s been ages.”
“Aww, that’s sweet, Feefee.” Marion’s expression softened even as Emma crinkled her nose. Feefee? “But I doubt you have views as nice as this suite. And I need to be somewhere with a piano. That’s why I can’t stay with my brother at his condo. I’ll miss my music too much.”
“You hated piano lessons,” Gabriel squawked.
“That was before I learned to appreciate the restorative power of music.” She turned her nose up. “Now I make it a point to play at least thirty minutes a day. I’m sure Cousin Michel understands. He plays beautifully.”
Sophie and Gabriel exchanged a horrified glance, then looked back and forth between Marion and Michel. It was out of their hands now. Emma belatedly realized what Michel’s surprise houseguest could mean for their privacy. God, why now? They only had three weeks left. Every minute was precious.
“I’d be happy to have you.” A muscle twitched in Michel’s jaw. He hid it admirably, but Emma knew him well enough to recognize his displeasure. She also knew he was too kind to kick his young cousin out of his suite. “I’m sure Gabriel and I can handle your luggage.”
“I’ll help with the bags,” Sophie volunteered, and jerked her head at Gabriel. “Come on. We don’t have all night.”
That had been the perfect moment for one of Gabriel’s flirtatious quips, but he didn’t so much as smirk. Instead, he joined her by the luggage at once. Things seemed tense between them as they walked off toward the spare bedroom with a rolling bag in each hand.
Emma remembered her argument with Michel and worried her bottom lip. Had her advice to Sophie the other day put a wedge between her and Gabriel? Well, that had been the point. But her friend didn’t seem any happier for it.
“Would you like a drink?” Michel asked with a hand on her back.
“Just some water, please.” Emma had a feeling she would need all her wits about her to survive an encounter with Marion.
The other woman dropped back down on the sofa with a glass of red wine, and Emma situated herself on a love seat a safe distance away. Michel sat down next to her and handed her a glass of water. His thigh didn’t quite touch hers, but she could feel the heat coming off him. She suddenly remembered their kiss in the broom closet, and frustration bloomed inside her. She couldn’t imagine finishing what they’d started with a stranger in the same suite.
“So… how did you two meet?” Marion eyed the two of them over the rim of her glass. The expression on her face was uncannily like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. Emma had a sinking feeling in her stomach. There was something she was missing. “I’m dying to hear everything.”
“We met downstairs at the hotel café,” Michel offered, sounding preoccupied. “Nothing you would find interesting.”
“You’re quite mistaken.” Marion moued her lips. “I am terribly interested.”
Michel plowed a hand through his hair, his patience noticeably running thin. It wasn’t like him to be so easily flustered.
“Well, Marion.” Emma decided it was time to divert the conversation. “If you’re available next Saturday, I’d love for you to come to a small gathering I’m hosting. It’s going to be a cooking party.”
“Oh?” The other woman looked down her perfect, pert nose at Emma. “Will you be selling plastic containers to your guests? I believe I’ve seen such… occurrences in American movies.”
There was nothing wrong with Tupperware parties, but Emma had a feeling she’d just been insulted. “No, it’s not that kind of party. I’m a culinary instructor, and I’ll actually be teaching my guests how to cook a gourmet Korean dish.”
“A culinary instructor? Of Korean food?” Genuine interest flashed in her eyes. “That’s brilliant. I will make it a point to be here for your party.”
