Page 80 of That Prince is Mine
“I’m so… so…” Sarah’s apology broke on a sob, and her lower lip trembled dangerously.
“Excuse me,” Michel said to Emma with a quick squeeze of her hand, and hurried over to his panicked cousin and the poor young woman. “Hello, Ms. Bae. I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
“Professor Chevalier?” The young woman sniffed as her eyes widened.
“Oh, you know who I am?” Michel offered her a warm smile. “I have heard such wonderful things about you from Professor Laurent. He said you were such a hard worker and that you were invaluable to his teaching.”
“He did?” She peeked at Gabriel but quickly glanced away.
“He certainly did.” It was true. His cousin had also mentioned how tempting it was to tease her about her last name, but the Sphinx would never do that. Gabriel would feel awful about this later if Michel couldn’t salvage the situation. “Between you and me, the man is a brilliant academic, but he unfortunately has two left feet. Would you care to dance with me instead?”
While Sarah stood with her mouth opening and closing, Gabriel gave her a curt nod, then shot Michel a grateful glance before escaping out the side doors to the balcony. Michel offered Sarah his hand with a bow of his head, and she took it with a shy smile.
As he led the young woman out to the dance floor, he realized he’d abandoned Emma without any explanation. Surely she would understand, especially since it had been her friend in peril. When he glanced over his shoulder at her, she waved him off with a blinding smile on her face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Emma dabbed away the tears pooling in her eyes. Her friend had been pale and withdrawn at first, but Michel coaxed Sarah out of her shell and had her giggling by the middle of the song. Emma scanned the dance floor and was relieved that the redheaded beauty—Sarah’s dreamy crush—was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Jeannie had found somewhere private to stick her tongue down the guy’s throat.
Poor Sarah. She must’ve been heartbroken and desperate to have scrounged up the nerve to ask the Sphinx to dance with her. What was Gabriel’s problem anyway? He was such a charming, easygoing man. But by all accounts, he turned into an absolute asshole when he assumed his role as Professor Laurent. Like tonight with Sarah. Emma pushed aside her anger. That wasn’t important right now.
All that mattered was that Michel had charged in like a knight in shining armor and rescued Sarah from further humiliation. Emma dug the heel of her hand into her chest as her heart ping-ponged against her rib cage. She remembered from her high school French that chevalier meant “knight.” It was so perfectly fitting. She sighed and leaned back against the wall. She was acting like a starstruck teenager, but she didn’t care.
Michel was wonderful. He was loyal, kind, strong, and generous. And he made her laugh. He made her feel safe. He made her feel complete in a way she didn’t know was possible. Her dreamy smile froze in place and slowly melted away.
Oh God. Emma released a shuddering breath, hot tears blinding her eyes. She was in love with him. She loved him so much. What have I done? How could she fall in love with him knowing that he would soon be gone?
She thought her time with Michel would be worth the risk of heartbreak. But now that her heart was truly on the line, she didn’t feel so brave anymore. How could she bear it when he left? What was she going to do? All her life, she’d done everything in her power to protect herself from heartbreak. She never wanted any of this. Why now? Why him?
Because he was Michel. Because he looked at her like she was the most precious person in the world. Because he forgot his perfect manners and kissed her in the middle of a ballroom like he couldn’t help himself—like she was irresistible. Because he stepped in to dance with a forlorn girl and make her laugh past her tears. Emma loved Michel with all her heart because he was him.
And she had to stop. Emma could do anything once she set her mind to it. She could do this, too. She could stop loving Michel. If she could lock away the pain and loneliness of being abandoned by her mom, she could lock away her love for Michel.
When the song ended, she stepped closer to the tall, leafy plant by her side in a subconscious attempt to hide. Michel gestured toward her, and Sarah’s eyes widened. Emma hadn’t had a chance to tell her friend that she was dating the famed visiting professor. The two of them walked toward her, and she took a brave step out of her hiding place.
“Allow me to replenish your drinks, while you ladies catch up,” Michel said with a crooked smile that turned her knees to Jell-O. She watched as he walked away with the grace of a runway model, then turned to her friend.
“Oh my gosh,” Sarah squealed, clasping Emma’s hands. “I didn’t know you were dating Professor Chevalier.”
“It’s only been a few weeks.” She squashed the flare of panic along with the small voice that whimpered, You have less than four weeks left with him. “It’s not that serious.”
“Yeah, right.” Her friend snorted. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
“How…” Emma cleared her throat. “How does he look at me?”
Sarah blushed and giggled into her hand. “Like he can’t decide whether to fall on his knees and worship you at your feet, or to throw you over his shoulder to ravish you in a dark corner.”
“You discerned all that from one look?” Emma said with a wry grin, even as her blood pounded in her ears.
“Here we are.” Michel returned with two flutes of champagne and looked at Emma, and God help her, his eyes gleamed with lust and adoration. She took the champagne from his hand and gulped it down so fast that her throat stung from the bubbles.
“Thank you, Professor Chevalier.” Sarah accepted her drink with far better manners and shot a sly glance toward Emma. She seemed to have shaken off the incident with Gabriel and was back to her sassy self. “I have to go mingle now. Have a nice evening, you two.”
When Sarah disappeared into the crowd, Michel retrieved the empty flute from Emma’s limp fingers and set it down on a nearby cocktail table. He leaned close to her ear and murmured, “Would you dance with me? I need to hold you.”
Emma nodded wordlessly and let him lead her to the dance floor. As if on cue, the song transitioned into Billie Holiday’s “Solitude,” and Michel gathered her in his arms. She clung helplessly to him as she fell deeper in love with each sway of their bodies—the strong, reassuring beat of his heart thumping against her palm.
“You’re quiet.” His breath fluttered against her temple. “Is anything the matter?”
