Page 54 of His Royal Matchmaker

“Your Highness,” she says, and that formality makes my heart sink even before she continues. “I apologize for the unexpected visit. I know we’re meant to meet for breakfast soon, but I wanted to speak with you privately first.”

“Of course.” I gesture toward the sitting area near the fireplace. Two armchairs face each other across a small table; it’s much more intimate than the grand desk. “Please.”

She hesitates, then crosses the room with measured steps and sits on the very edge of a chair. I take the other, trying to read her expression. Her usual warm confidence seems muted, replaced by something more guarded.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, knowing it is likely a ridiculous question. After everything that has?—

“I received a phone call last night. From Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles?” I repeat, confused. “From your friend Nova?”

A flash of surprise crosses her face. “You remember my friend’s name?”

“Of course I do.” I shrug. “You mentioned her.”

“Once.” She clears her throat. “Yes, well, the call was related to Nova. She knows a TV producer who has… they’ve approached me with an opportunity. They want me to host a new dating show. It’s a big platform, national audience, completely different from what I’ve been doing, but… good.”

“A television show?” I lean forward. “That’s… unexpected.”

“It is,” she agrees. “But it’s an incredible opportunity. The producer said they’ve been following my work, and they think I’d be perfect for the format they’ve developed.”

Something cold settles in my stomach. “When would this start?”

“That’s why I wanted to speak with you.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at me with determined eyes. “They need me in LA for meetings as soon as possible. I’ve accepted the offer. I’ll be leaving Marzieu today.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “Today? But what about—” I gesture vaguely, meaning everything — the matchmaking process, my mother’s expectations, the kiss… us.

“I’ve arranged for a colleague, David, to take over your case,” she says, sounding like a robot. “He’s extremely capable, and I’ll brief him thoroughly on the four remaining candidates. Your schedule of dates won’t be disrupted.”

I stand up, suddenly unable to sit still. “This is very sudden.”

Bysudden, I really mean disappointing. Crushing.

She remains seated, watching me with careful eyes. “It is. But sometimes the right opportunity comes at the right time.”

“Is that what this is?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “The right opportunity at the right time?”

She stands too. “Your Highness?—”

“Hugo,” I correct automatically. “Please.”

“Hugo,” she says, and my name in her voice still does something to me, even now. “I think we both know I need to remove myself from this situation. After what happened…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t need to.

“The kiss,” I say bluntly. “You can say it. I kissed you, and you pushed me away.”

“Yes.” A flush of color rises in her cheeks. “And that’s exactly why I need to go. I’ve crossed a professional boundary, even if I tried to correct it immediately. The integrity of my process is compromised.”

I take a step toward her. “What if I don’t want another matchmaker? What if I don’t want any of the four women you’ve selected?”

She takes a step back, maintaining the distance between us. “Then David will find new candidates. Or perhaps you should consider a different service altogether.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. “Emily, what if the reason none of these matches feels right is because?—”

“Please don’t,” she interrupts, holding up a hand. “This is exactly why I need to leave. Prince Hugo, I’ve never had this much trouble finding someone a match before. You’re—” She stops, seeming to search for words.

“I’m what?” I ask, a sense of dread building.

Her expression hardens slightly, her professional mask slipping into place. “You’re beyond help. You say you want one thing, but your actions suggest something else entirely. You claim you don’t want to marry, and yet you say you will humor us with dates. You say you’ve outgrown your playboy past, but at the first opportunity, you?—”

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