Page 60 of The Omega Princess

“Oh, very, very bad things.” He nodded. “I can definitely tell.”

“Why?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“You’re…” He eyed me, his expression going thoughtful. He never finished his thought.

A waitress appeared next to the table. “Hi there, I’ve been sent over from Annie in the kitchen, and she says that she is making you exactly what she thinks you should have, and that it will be a complete and perfect tasting menu, and you are not allowed to argue about it.”

“Oh, well, then we won’t argue,” said Sinclair, scooping up our menus and handing them over. “We want all four of the cocktail flights, additionally.”

“She said you would,” said the waitress. “I already put it in with the bar.”

Sinclair’s grin got even wider. “Will she come out later? I’d love to see Annie.”

“She says she’s bringing you the food herself, so sit tight.”

“Excellent,” said Sinclair.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” said the waitress.

I watched the waitress walk off and then turned back to Sinclair. “Who’s Annie and how do you know her?”

“She’s just one of the cooks here,” said Sinclair.

“You fucked her?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Of course not!” said Sinclair. “She’s in her mid-fifties, I think.”

“As if that would stop you.”

“I’ve known her since I was this high.” He gestured.

“You came here as a kid?”

“My mother loved this place,” he said with a sad sort of smile.

Oh, shit. His mother had been Princess Emily, the one who’d drowned. He’d been young when it happened, too, maybe twelve years old. It was before he’d presented. Of course it had affected him. No wonder he was the way he was.

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” he said, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I can’t handle that. People always do that, and I can’t have you doing it.”

“But it must have been so hard, losing your mom—”

“Look, my mom was great sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “But, to be honest, I barely ever saw her when she was alive. Occasionally, she’d do things like bring me here. But she hardly paid attention to me or any of my needs or anything. She would unload on me, really, tell me all of her adult problems and I felt… she was a complicated person.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

“Oh,” I said in understanding. “I see.”

“That’s worse,” he said with a groan.

“Well, it’s only that it must have been—”

“All of us, we’re all the same,” he said. “You think Devlin and Rohan had close, deep relationships with their mothers? No, we were all raised by nannies. It’s the way of things in the aristocracy. It’s fine, really, and I’m fine.”

“Except you’re not,” I said. “Fine, I mean. And you seem to want to make sure everyone knows that.”

He leaned back in his chair, clearing his throat. “Well, don’t hold back there.”

“Sorry.” I looked away. “We were having a nice time. Let’s go back to talking about food.”

He spread his hands. “It’s fine if you want to talk about me. It’s my favorite subject, really.” He gave me a careless smile.

---