Page 22 of That Prince is Mine
Even so, this trip was taking a toll on Sophie, because she and she alone was responsible for his safety while they were here. But that was what he’d wanted. He couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself with a brood of royal guards. It was selfish of him, but this was his only chance to take back a portion of his life and avoid an arranged marriage, which neither he nor his childhood friend Isabelle wanted.
His father, the king, was tired. When he told Michel that, his father had indeed looked exhausted… and old, his once-golden hair gone completely silver. The king intended to abdicate, with immediate plans to announce Michel’s coronation as well as his impending engagement to Lady Isabelle Duprey. His father wanted Rouleme to celebrate their new king and future queen rather than mourn the end of his rule.
Michel begged for forbearance even though he would do anything for his father and Rouleme. The king granted him a three-month reprieve, presumably to allow him to prepare himself for the inordinate responsibility of leading a country. But Michel had been trained for that inevitability his entire life. Every facet of his upbringing had centered around that all-important goal. He still wasn’t sure what kind of ruler he would be—what he could do for his people—but he intended to dedicate himself wholly to the betterment of Rouleme and his people. He would accept that responsibility with gratitude and humility, if not joy.
All he wanted was to be allowed to do so with someone he loved by his side. That was the true reason Michel needed the three months. There were things in his life that he had no control over, but marriage wasn’t something he could let happen to him as he watched passively from the sidelines. He had this one chance to choose something—someone—for himself. He wanted to marry someone simply because he couldn’t live without her and she couldn’t live without him. A union of love between a man and a woman. Nothing more. Nothing less.
For this one thing, he wanted to be selfish. He wouldn’t marry for his country and his people. Not for duty and responsibility. He didn’t care about sensibility or compatibility. He would settle for nothing less than all-consuming love. For three months, he could still make that choice.
But one month had already passed, and he had no time to waste. He needed to find out if Emma was meant for him. He typed out his next message with renewed determination.
Michel:
We’ve already established that I’m hopeless at this dating business, right?
He inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to put down his mobile. He’d taken a while to respond to her, so he shouldn’t expect an immediate response. After five minutes, he noticed his bouncing knee and gaped at it, appalled at his lack of composure. He didn’t know when shock gave way to delight, but he found himself grinning. This woman stripped his royal upbringing right off him. That was an excellent sign. His mother had always said that love made fools of all men—even kings.
Emma:
Sorry. I was in the shower. But yes. Quite hopeless.
The more Michel told himself not to imagine Emma in the shower, naked and wet, the more vivid his mental image grew. He shifted on the sofa, adjusting his pants. He ran his hand down his face and got himself under control.
Michel:
So fully accepting that I’m likely doing this all wrong, I would like to invite you over to my place for dinner.
Emma:
Your place?
Michel:
Yes, I’m staying at the hotel where we met.
That sounded worse than he thought it would. She might think he was inviting her to his hotel room with nowhere to sit but on his king-size bed.
Michel:
In a two-bedroom suite. It’s just like your typical flat with a dining room and a living room…
He stopped himself before he recited the entire hotel brochure.
Emma:
1I guess we won’t be encountering an only-one-bed scenario then.
Michel blinked. What the hell is an only-one-bed scenario?
Emma:
Haha. Never mind. Bad joke.
Emma:
But, yeah. Dinner at your place it is. At seven.
Relief and anticipation rushed through Michel, and a huff of laughter tumbled out of him. He was about to reply saying he would meet her in the lobby, but Sophie’s scowling face flashed through his mind. The best he could do was greet her at the foyer on his floor, which was as far as he could go without his royal guard. He swallowed an unexpected flash of frustration. This was his life. He came to terms with it long ago. There was no point getting worked up over it now.
