Page 29 of His Princess Brat
Common sense. Keep your head. Remember the pact, I chanted to myself, forcing a stiff smile over my gritted teeth.
“Excuse me.” Pulling my arm from her grip, I tried to walk away, but she followed me.
“Oh, well, maybe you could join me for tea tomorrow,” she persisted. “Gentlemanly tendencies notwithstanding, I’m sure I would make a much more interesting companion than that dreadfully boring horse girl.”
“I don’t think so,” I growled, leaving her gaping behind me. I looked over to the spot where Pita had been, but she was no longer there.
Damn it.
I searched for her, circling the room constantly because I knew if I stopped moving, even for a second, Bethany would grab me again. If she did, and if she was stupid enough to insult Pita again, I was going to break that stupid pact, which risked Pita seeing me as a giant hypocrite, especially after I took her to task for the exact same thing yesterday.
I made it all the way to the large mahogany bar at the corner of the ballroom before I realized I had no idea if Pita even drank. Not that it mattered, really. Because I did, and right now a drink was all I could think about.
Ordering a whiskey neat, I drank it in one gulp while I scanned the room for her. Thankfully, Pita seemed to favor bold colors and from this vantage point, her bright orange and blue dress made her easy to spot. She wasn’t alone this time. Not to sound conceited, but the short man she was chatting with was no competition for me, not with those Buddy Holly glasses and geeky bowtie. Unless, of course, she was the type to go for that sort of thing. My pride wanted to say she wasn’t, but that didn’t stop me from slamming my glass onto the bar with far more force than I’d intended.
Once again, I began my trek toward her and the opposite side of the room. I did everything I could not to lose sight of her over the heads of all these people crowded between us. I should have walked faster, pushed harder, been rude a couple of times, but I didn’t, and before long, I got stopped again. I had to admit it was good for my fragile male ego to have all manner of princesses and other royalty fawning over me, but there was only one I had eyes for. Still, I couldn’t be rude. Not in Mazi’s house, to one of his guests. This woman, a countess from Austria, if I remembered correctly, was much more pleasant, and if she was flirting, it wasn’t as blatantly desperate or even really noticeable.
“Mr. Azid.” She broke from a group to grab me as I walked past, stepping closer to me and away from them. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall your title.”
“No title. Azid is fine.”
Her smile wavered and confusion knotted her brow, but she quickly recovered, gracing me with a blinding smile that seemed truly genuine. “Azid then. Thank goodness you passed by. Stay and chat with me a moment, won’t you? You’ll be saving me from having to listen to yet another dreadfully boring conversation about stocks and the foreign market.”
I had to smile at her. Upon closer look, she was an older lady, at least ten years my senior, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t flirting. Older women liked to flirt too. They didn’t call them cougars for nothing. Still, even with my tumultuous upbringing, I knew well enough to respect my elders, so I agreed to stay and chat for a few minutes.
“That does sound pretty boring. What would you rather be talking about?”
“Literally anything. I was about to fall asleep standing up.”
I was used to talking to strippers, not countesses, and usually if a woman of a certain age was paying me any attention, she was interested in one thing, and one thing only. It wasn’t talking. My mind went totally blank.
Luckily she took pity on me with small talk. “Are you enjoying your visit?”
“It’s been interesting. I’m not used to all this fancy pants pomp and circumstance.”
“Where are you from?”
“New York City.”
“New York! Goodness, you are certainly a long way from home. And isn’t that where King Mazi grew up? Are you a friend of his?”
“Since the first day of ninth grade,” I confirmed, breathing a little easier. Talking about my friendship with Mazi was easy. That I could do.
“How special that you have remained friends through all these years, and even after he moved halfway across the country and became royalty. That must have been hard for you.”
“It definitely took some getting used to.”
Her warm smile had gone from mildly flirtatious to nurturing and motherly. “You are a wonderful young man, Azid from New York. King Mazi is lucky to have a friend like you. And speak of the devil, it looks like he’s waving you down.” She patted my arm. “You go visit with your friend. And have a wonderful time here in Osei. Thank you for rescuing me from death by boredom. I hope I get to see you again before you leave.”
“I hope so too, Countess,” I said, and found I meant it. The interaction between us had been far different than I’d first perceived, and thoroughly enjoyable. Maybe I could hobnob with the elite and royal after all.
It was a good thing too, because it looked like I wasn’t going to have a choice. Mazi was standing with a group of important-looking dignitaries and excitedly waving me over. Pita had apparently made her escape from Mr. Bow Tie, and was now nowhere to be seen.
Sighing, I joined Mazi and played nice, rubbing shoulders with princes, dukes, and ambassadors, and smiling until my face hurt. It was hard, pretending to be interested in their comparisons of cars that cost more than I made in a year, or travel to places I’d never heard of and for sure would never visit. All the while, I kept my eye on the room, searching for another glimpse of Pita. The thought of catching up with her was the only thing making this awful evening worth it. It was a dinner party, for God’s sake, and I hadn’t had a bite to eat. I hadn’t even made it to where the food was being served.
At this point I was over it. I was about ready to make my excuses, make my way to my room, and order up a nice greasy cheeseburger when I caught a flash of orange and blue near the French doors leading outside.
Not willing to risk losing her again, I dashed into the crowd, pushing and shoving, dodging dignitaries and ambassadors and a few waiters carrying trays of drinks. I was anything but dignified, but what did they expect? Inviting a stripper to dinner at a palace was a little like inviting a bull for tea in a china shop.
