The Cinderella Princess (13 page)

Unfortunately. Correction. Fortunately.

“Positive?” Addie wanted everyone to have a happily ever after.

“Yes.”

“Too bad. The two of you make a cute couple.”

Emily’s pulse spurted. “Even if we did, which we don’t, I’m not royalty. Besides I’m not interested in dating anyone, let alone a crush-worthy prince.”

“So you have a crush.” Addie’s brows wriggled.

“Maybe a little one.”

Addie beamed. “That’s more than I thought you’d admit.”

“Well, keep the news to yourself, okay? I have a job to do, and I need the guys to see me as a taskmaster. Not a giggling, blushing school girl.”

Addie rubbed her hands together. “Oh, I’d love to see you act that way. Just once.”

“Not. Going. To. Happen.”

“Maybe not here, but someday…”

Emily shooed her friend away. “See if the chef’s ready to go shopping.”

“Going, but I’m living proof, you never know what will happen.”

Emily’s lips tingled from the memory of Luc’s kiss by the clock tower. That had been unexpected. “Very true.”

But one kiss didn’t mean anything, even if she wouldn’t be forgetting that kiss for a very long time.

*

In the pool
cabana, Luc found the crew reviewing footage, but no sign of Emily. That was strange. If anything, her schedule was predictable. He could count on her being where she needed to be. Luc appreciated that about her.

Too bad she had to leave on Tuesday. Because she’d found him dates, he told himself.

“Has anyone seen Emily?” he asked the crew.

“She’s out with the chef.” Dylan worked on one of the microphone packs. “They’ve come up with a special menu for your date tonight.”

Another one? Luc couldn’t keep track of the princesses coming in and out of the villa. “Emily doesn’t cook.”

“Not cooking is different from knowing how to cook but choosing not to,” Brad said in an all-too-knowing voice. “Emily knows her way around the kitchen. And a few other places.”

The producer’s words poked like a knife. Luc didn’t like that.

“The chef is cooking a seven-course meal combining dishes from Alvernia and Mariposa,” Conrad said.

The back of the hair on Luc’s neck stiffened. “Mariposa?”

Conrad nodded. “That’s where Princess Marguerite is from.”

“Mariposa means butterfly in Spanish.” Wes smiled smugly. “Haven’t forgotten everything I learned in high school.”

A volcano-worthy headache erupted behind Luc’s temples. He rubbed his forehead.

Brad touched Luc’s shoulder. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you sick?”

“I have a case of early regrets.”

“Is this princess ugly or something?” Dylan asked.

“No.” Luc tried to remember the last time he’d seen Marguerite. Skiing in Klosters, perhaps? They’d never been formally introduced. “She’s quite beautiful.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Wes’s brows furrowed. “Seriously, dude, you need to watch episodes of
The Bachelor
. You’re the only one who’s been in the pool. The hot tub hasn’t been used. You’re totally blowing what you could get away with here.”

“I’m not trying to get away with anything. I need to find a wife.” Outrageous stories about Marguerite had made the rounds at his most recent fundraisers. “But a woman who prefers to be addressed by the name Princess Butterfly may not be the right choice.”

Luc trusted Emily, more than he’d trusted anyone in a long while, but this dinner had disaster written all over it. He hoped he wasn’t the one getting wet again.

*

That evening, Emily
rechecked the formal dining room. A freshly pressed linen cloth covered the left end of the long table. The two place settings had napkins folded in the shape of a butterfly, courtesy of Addie and a YouTube video. Fresh cut flowers from one of the gardens filled a crystal vase. The candelabra would be lit soon.

Everything was perfect except for…

Luc.

He looked so…princely in his dark gray suit, starched white shirt and solid red tie. He wore a lapel pin with his family crest. His shoulder length hair added a dash of sexy to his classic style. But he kept pacing, circling the table that seated twenty-four.

Emily hadn’t expected him to be nervous. Not after his other first dates. “You okay?”

He nodded once.

“You look great. But if you don’t stop brooding, you’re going to steal the title of Mr. Darcy away from Nick.”

Lines formed on either side of Luc’s mouth like cracks in granite. “You should have canceled the date when I texted you.”

“Princess Marguerite was already on her way to Lake Como.” Emily studied him. The guy seemed fidgety. “Why don’t you want to have dinner with her?”

He shrugged.

“Marguerite can’t wait to meet you. The least you can do is try to enjoy yourself.”

“Marguerite is…eccentric. I’ve heard—”

“Wait a minute.” Emily blocked his path so he couldn’t pace. “You don’t want people to believe gossip about you, but you’re willing to judge Marguerite on hearsay?”

“The stories are bizarre. The royal family has standards.”

“Marguerite is the middle daughter of Mariposa’s king. She was educated in the United States, does charity work, and is pretty.”

Luc’s gaze jerked up. “You saw her picture.”

“In a peerage registry from a couple years ago.”

His mouth twisted. “A lot can change in a couple of years.”

“What are you afraid of?” Emily asked.

He raised his chin. “Nothing.”

She didn’t believe him. “Marguerite is traveling here to spend time with you, allowing her visit to be filmed for a television show, and deserves to be treated with respect.”

“You sound like a queen.”

“More like a Dowager Countess.” Emily smiled, hoping he’d relax. “I stream
Downton Abbey
if I need a break.”

That brought a smile to his face.

Emily straightened Luc’s tie. “Marguerite has a reputation of being somewhat of a wild child. I thought that might give you something in common given your penchant for partying.”

“You put thought into this.”

The other princesses who had agreed to second dates seemed more proper and a little—dare she say—boring. Luc needed someone with the same vitality and zest for fun. “I’ve tried.”

“I’ll give Marguerite my full attention and be on my best behavior.”

“Now let’s not go overboard,” Emily joked.

Another smile appeared. “I’ll stop complaining.”

“Good. I feel confident she’s a good choice for you.”

Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Care to put a wager on it?”

“You mean a bet?”

“Yes. If Marguerite turns out to be like any other European princess, you win, but if she’s at all…different, then I win.”

“What’s at stake?”

“Winner names the prize.”

Tempting, especially if he meant… “Anything?”

“You’re thinking about the foundation.”

“Of course, I am.”

“The foundation is included.” His tone challenged her. “Are you game?”

Emily wasn’t a gambler. She preferred betting only when the odds were in her favor. They were tonight. And once she could show the princess Luc’s work with his foundation, she’d be able to help him plan a proposal before she left on Tuesday.

“You’ve got yourself a bet, but you realize I’m going to win,” she said. “And you can’t back down when I do.”

“The same goes if I win.”

“The princess’s limousine’s here.” Dressed in white and wearing an earpiece, Brad peered into the dining room. “Get ready.”

Emily’s nerve endings tingled with excitement. She walked to the drawing room where introductions would take place.

Luc was at her side. His smile wavered.

She longed to reach out and give him a sign of support. He needed another princess or two to agree to a second date to up his odds of finding a fiancée.

So what if she would rather be having dinner with Luc tonight? Or the thought of his date with yet another princess left her feeling unsettled?

Emily straightened her black skirt and smoothed her white blouse. She couldn’t wait to see what the princess wore.

Luc touched her shoulder.

She jumped. “What?”

“You’re the one who’s nervous.”

“I’m excited to see how wonderful this works out. And win the bet.”

“One day your confidence is going to get you into trouble.”

She laughed. “Addie’s said the same thing.”

“For being so confident, you’re tense.” He squeezed Emily’s shoulders, kneading the tight muscles.

The tension seeped out. “You’re good at this.”

“I have many skills.” His tone was playful and suggestive. He leaned closer, his breath against her neck. “And a few not so hidden ones.”

A chill ran the length of her spine. Goosebumps formed on her arms. “I’m getting an idea about your…talents.”

“Happy to show you more.”

If only… Her heart pounded in her throat. “Save it for Princess Marguerite.”

“Dinner dates are my specialty.”

She thought about her first night at the villa. “Especially dessert.”

He continued massaging. “I can bring you cookies and milk later. We’ll eat while you recite lines of Shakespeare.”

Emily stiffened. “I thought I dreamed that.”

His charming grin took her breath away. “No, but you looked dreamy.”

If her muscles weren’t bunched before, they were now.

“Dylan put the microphone pack on the princess. They’re on the move,” Brad called out. “Position yourself.”

“That’s my cue to fade into the background.” Emily moved toward the terrace where she would watch, but be out of the way.

Luc fiddled with his microphone pack. “Wish me luck.”

She flashed an encouraging smile. “You don’t need luck. She’ll love you.”

A flash of brilliant colors, almost like a painting or tapestry, appeared in the doorway.

Emily hurried onto the terrace.

Aldo, looking sharp in his butler’s uniform, stood by the doorway. “Her Royal Highness Princess Marguerite Beatrix Annamarie of Mariposa.”

Emily held her breath in anticipation. This could be Luc’s future wife.

Marguerite stepped into the drawing room.

Huh? Emily did a double take. Leaned forward toward the drawing room window. Squinted.

Oh, no. Her breath rushed out as if someone had punched her in the gut. A butterfly. The woman was dressed as a butterfly complete with wings and antennae. Was the intricate design on the princess’s face temporary or a permanent tattoo?

Princess Marguerite whispered something to the butler.

Aldo cleared his throat. “Also known as Princess Butterfly of Mariposa.”

Luc glanced Emily’s way, a surprising grin on his face and victory in his eyes.

Darn the man. She would have to concede defeat. But he must have had inside information. That was why he’d made the bet.

Princess Marguerite curtsied, spreading her skirt and translucent shimmery wings. The bouncing antennae matched her rainbow-colored hair.

Luc bowed. “Welcome, Your Highness. I hope you will enjoy tonight.”

“And you, Your Highness.”

He extended his arm, smiled. “Such an elaborate and colorful show of national pride.”

Taking his hand, Marguerite beamed. “I do my best. My mother felt face paint might provide more options. She worried a tattoo might be too limiting in color schemes.”

Not permanent. Thank goodness. Emily placed her hand over her pounding heart.

The princess looked up at Luc. “What do you think?”

His smile widened. “The queen of Mariposa is not only beautiful like her daughter, but intelligent too.”

Marguerite’s sigh could be heard outside.

Good job, Luc.
Emily watched with a mix of fascination and a touch of regret. She shook off the latter emotion.

“I hear you’re looking for a wife,” Marguerite said. “My father is offering a large dowry to compensate for my well…”

“Lovely butterfly-ness,” Luc offered.

Marguerite laughed. “Yes. The men aren’t lining up outside the castle to ask for my hand.”

“Their loss.”

“Could be your gain…”

The words hung in the air. Emily wondered what Luc’s answer would be and why she felt a sudden sense of dread.