Page 72 of That Prince is Mine
His blood rushed south fast enough to make him dizzy. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“What?” She widened her eyes. “Am I being naughty?”
“Please have mercy,” he groaned.
“That’s what you get for not paying attention.” She smirked. “This game plan is the only way we’ll survive the night.”
“What about your father?” he said with a resigned sigh. “How does he fit into the game plan?”
“My dad…” Her smile turned a shade crestfallen. “He’s a sweet, kind man. Just be yourself with him. He’ll like you no matter what.”
“He will?” Michel couldn’t hide his surprise.
“I told him you were good to me.” Her voice grew husky. “That’s all that matters to him.”
“He sounds like a good man.” He ran his knuckles down the side of her cheek.
“He is.” She leaned into his touch, covering his hand with her own. “I’m so lucky to be his daughter.”
“I’m sure he feels just as lucky to be your father.” Something hitched in his chest. Emma and her father seemed so close… like they were essential to each other’s lives.
Before he could parse out his emotions, Sophie parked next to the sidewalk of a tidy residential area with rows of quaint, two-story houses. He didn’t know which one belonged to Emma’s godmother, but it was probably across the street, a few houses down. His royal guard would want a good line of vision to the house, while remaining discreetly out of sight.
As Michel reached for the door handle, Emma tugged on his arm and said in a rush, “I think it goes without saying that we won’t mention that you’re a prince.”
He stiffened in his seat. They hadn’t talked much about his revelation. In some ways, he’d wanted to move past it and go back to the way things had been between them—effortless and wonderful. But he realized Emma had been awfully quiet about it as well. Why was that? Did she care so little about his title? Or was she avoiding the topic because it bothered her more than she let on? He abruptly heaved himself out of the car, needing to get some air.
“Michel?” A frown drew twin ridges between her eyebrows.
“Of course,” he forced himself to answer, not quite meeting her eyes. He shook himself out of his momentary panic. “I’ll be your average USC professor tonight.”
“There’s nothing average about being a professor at a prestigious university.” She dimpled at him and followed him out of the car.
“Enjoy your evening,” Sophie said with an encouraging smile, standing by the driver’s side door.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for dinner?” Emma asked for the third time since Sophie declined to join them.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Her eyebrow quirked in indulgent amusement. “It would seem odd to bring his friend to a family dinner.”
Sophie made a valid point. They had already introduced her to Jeremy as Michel’s friend. It would complicate things to explain her presence tonight.
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Michel nodded to his royal guard and took Emma’s hand. “Shall we?”
“Wait.” Sophie flagged him down before they crossed the street, holding out an elegantly wrapped box. Emma had helped him pick out the gift—a Korean red ginseng set. She assured him that it would help him make a good first impression. His friend clucked her tongue at him as he accepted the box. “I can’t believe you almost forgot the hostess present.”
Michel grimaced. That would’ve been a huge faux pas, especially when you were visiting your girlfriend’s godmother for the first time. Girlfriend. The term felt too frivolous for what Emma meant to him. Then what would be the right word to describe her? He tucked away the thought to revisit later. He needed all his focus to win over Emma’s family tonight.
“Thank you, Sophie,” he said, taking the box from his friend.
“Good luck, Your Highness,” she said in a low voice. “Sounds like you’ll need it.”
After waving goodbye to Sophie, Emma led the way toward her godmother’s house, a dove-gray Craftsman home with black trimmings and a small but immaculate front yard. But instead of heading for the front door, she headed to the side gate.
When Michel glanced quizzically at her, she explained with a smile, “You’re in for a treat, Professor Chevalier. We’re having a Southern California backyard party. Another first for you, I’m sure.”
His blood heated at her playful use of Professor Chevalier, but his curiosity was piqued. “What distinguishes a Southern California backyard party from those of another region?”
“The food, of course.”
