Page 4 of That Prince is Mine
“Certainly. Rush right on off. I’ll pay for your coffee,” Michel groused.
“Well, you are the one with the palace,” Gabriel said with an irreverent grin. “I only have a three-bedroom condo you won’t deign to stay in. Although I must say, I do see the appeal of this café… and its clientele.”
Michel pierced his cousin with a narrow-eyed glare, not taking the bait. He wasn’t ready to talk about her, especially since there was nothing to talk about. But he really should remedy that. “If you blow my cover, I will throttle you. With great pleasure.”
“That’s dark, cousin. Even so, I thank you for the coffee.” With a mocking bow of his head, Gabriel sauntered away from the table, making heads turn without effort.
As he neared the exit, his cousin caught the woman’s eyes and winked at her. She blushed and tucked her chin, a shy smile turning up the corners of her Cupid’s bow lips. Michel pushed his chair back with every intent to tackle the bastard to the ground. Luckily for both of them, Gabriel took his leave without lingering.
It took a few minutes for Michel to unclench his back teeth and realize that his cousin had delivered a swift kick to his arse to get him to stake his claim. God, was that even something people said? He had no idea how to proceed. Other than a few discreet affairs with women from his trusted circle—good women who remained his friends—Michel didn’t have much experience with dating. Especially the kind that involved walking up to total strangers and asking them out. He actually had zero experience with that kind of dating.
In Rouleme, his every move was watched and scrutinized by his family, his people, and the media. It had never crossed his mind to approach a stranger with romantic intentions. In fact, approaching a stranger with any sort of intention would give his royal guards a heart attack.
Everyone knew who he was—who he was meant to be. Even if a woman agreed to go out with him, he would never know whether she said yes because she wanted to or because she was afraid to say no. Who would want to offend the future king of their country?
Back home, he had no chance of meeting someone who would see him—and love him—for the man he was. That was why he came to America. For a chance to find true love without the shadow of his crown distorting every encounter.
Even as Michel waved down the server for another cup of coffee, his attention drifted back to the beautiful woman he couldn’t keep his eyes off. Her date hadn’t arrived yet, and she sat staring down at her steaming mug with a pensive look on her face. What was she thinking about? Hopefully, after he finished his coffee, he would have worked out a plan to ask her.
CHAPTER THREE
It would be a tragedy to break her godmother’s matchmaking streak. This was Emma’s fifth matseon and Auntie Soo secretly prided herself in making matches within ten arranged first dates or less. The woman had a sixth sense about what similarities in the potential couple’s background would lead to a successful match.
The Madame Ddu Method, as Emma called it, not only considered the couple’s compatibility based on their education and profession, but also focused on their upbringing and family reputation. Based on age-old Korean beliefs and customs, an arranged marriage wasn’t simply about a match between two people, but about two families coming together.
Emma considered herself a die-hard believer in the Madame Ddu Method. It made much more sense than any other way to meet your future spouse. It was worlds better than some random meet-cute where people were entirely led—or misled—by their attraction to each other. Her parents were a “love match,” and look how that turned out. Their marriage fell apart once the initial high of love faded, because they had nothing in common. Because love had fooled them into ignoring their differences.
She took a soothing sip of her green tea and glanced around the café. She could see why it was Auntie Soo’s favorite place to set up matseons. The hand-painted, high-vaulted ceilings and the light streaming in through the perfectly placed windows gave the café a whimsical, fairy-tale feel. Add in the sweet water fountain and live piano music, and romance seemed inevitable.
A heavy sigh escaped her when she recalled why she was sitting in the fairy-tale café. She was about to have yet another arranged first date. But just because none of the other matseons worked out didn’t mean this one wouldn’t. Emma sat up taller in her chair and took a deep breath. There was still a long way to go until she reached matseon number ten. She just had to trust in her godmother’s magic touch.
Besides, she had high hopes for tonight’s husband candidate, who seemed perfect on paper. Charles Shim was an entrepreneur like she was with a promising future ahead of him. He grew up in an upper-middle-class home and went to a respectable four-year college. His parents were well off but not so well off that they would look down on her dad. All in all, she and Charles Shim shared a very compatible background.
Auntie Soo also mentioned his parents had two adorable labradoodles, so there was a good chance he was a dog person. That was always a plus in Emma’s book. And not to sound superficial or anything, but she couldn’t help noticing that he was bite-your-knuckles gorgeous. If he ever entered a Hyun Bin look-alike contest, he would place second at the very least.
“Excuse me.”
The warm, deep voice had her glancing over to a table tucked away in the corner. She barely stopped her mouth from falling open. The owner of the delicious voice lowered his half-raised arm when he caught the server’s attention. He looked out of place sitting in a hotel café. With rich blond hair, an aristocratic nose, and a jawline sharp enough to give you a paper cut, he should be atop a black stallion, galloping down a deserted beach with his billowy white blouse fluttering in the wind.
“Yes?” Anne, the server, clasped her hands in front of her. “What can I get for you?”
“Just more coffee, please,” he said with a polite smile that succeeded in unhinging Emma’s jaws. She didn’t want to know what a real smile from him would do to her. Actually, she very much wanted to find out. “Perhaps a glass of water as well.”
God, what was that accent? If she had to guess, she would say it was British with a hint of French. It sounded like butter sprinkled with sugar. Yum. She should order some madeleines. She normally didn’t order snacks for these arranged first dates, but she had a sudden craving for butter and sugar.
Even as she told herself to cut it out, she stole surreptitious peeks at the stranger. He wore his hair a smidgen long, so that it curled over his shirt collar and a wayward lock kept falling into his chocolate-brown eyes.
Emma didn’t realize she was full-on staring at him until his gaze clashed with hers. Her breath caught in her throat, and the sound of her blood pounding in her ears drowned out the noise of the café. She should be embarrassed he caught her ogling him, but she couldn’t look away.
When he held her eyes with his sensual, almost too-wide mouth tilting up at one corner, her tongue flicked out to wet her suddenly dry lips. His barely there smile disappeared as his gaze dropped to her mouth. She shouldn’t be able to see from this distance, but she could swear his eyes darkened with an intense awareness that reflected her own.
“Are you Emma Yoon?”
She hopped an inch off her chair and glanced up at the man standing stiffly across from her. Right. Her prospective husband. She cleared her throat and gave her head a little shake. This was not a good time to be checking out another man.
“Um… yes. I’m Emma. You… you must be Charles.”
“That is correct,” he said with precise enunciation. He wore a nondescript beige suit that had been pressed to within an inch of its life, complete with a tie in the exact same shade. “I’m Charles Shim. May I sit down?”
