Page 63 of His Royal Matchmaker

She rolls her eyes but leans into me, her head finding that perfect spot against my shoulder. “Smooth talker. No wonder you had that reputation.”

“Had,” I emphasize, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Past tense. Very important distinction.”

I’m not the only one who has changed. This last year, she’s been pouring herself into expanding Matchmaking by Emily into new territories. Just yesterday, before we left for Paris, I watched her training three new matchmakers in her office in Marzieu, her hands animated as she explained her philosophy, her eyes bright with purpose.

Gone is the dating show that she planned on hosting. Instead, a whole new chapter of her life has begun. The transition wasn’t easy for her — moving her life to Marzieu six months ago. She gave up her apartment in Los Angeles, left behind the comfort of daily coffee dates with Nova. But her best friend visits often enough, bringing her Hollywood stories and infectious laugh that fills the palace halls in a way that makes even the stuffiest royal advisors smile.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Emily asks, turning back to the view. “You’ve been mysteriously tight-lipped about our evening itinerary.”

I check my watch. Almost time. “It’s a surprise. But you might want to wear that blue dress. The one that matches your eyes.”

Her smile turns suspicious. “The blue dress is for fancy occasions.”

“And this isn’t a fancy occasion? One year together?” I raise an eyebrow, enjoying the blush that spreads across her cheeks.

“You know what I mean.” She pushes away from the railing. “But fine, I’ll wear the blue dress. For you.”

“For us,” I correct, catching her hand and pulling her back for a kiss.

An hour later, we’re in the back of a car, winding through the evening streets of Paris. Emily keeps trying to guess our destination, each suggestion more outlandish than the last.

“Are we going to break into the Louvre? Midnight hot-air-balloon ride? Wait — are you finally taking me to that cheese shop you’ve been talking about for six months?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Better.”

The car pulls up to a familiar building, and I watch recognition dawn on her face.

“Hugo,” she breathes. “I didn’t think… Isn’t it closed for renovations?”

“It is,” I confirm, helping her from the car. “But being a prince has its occasional perks.”

The security guard nods respectfully as we approach. “Your Highness,” he says, opening the door. “Mademoiselle. Everything is prepared as requested.”

Emily’s hand tightens around mine as we step inside. The grand hall is dimly lit, scaffolding visible along the walls, but a clear path leads through to the ballroom. Unlike the night we attended the gala here, when hundreds of guests filled the space with chatter, and the orchestra played from the corner, tonight it’s silent save for the echo of our footsteps.

“This is… I don’t even know what to say,” Emily whispers, her eyes wide as she takes in the empty grandeur of the space.

I guide her through the ballroom toward the set of French doors that lead to the balcony. “Do you remember?”

Her smile is soft, nostalgic. “How could I forget? You followed me out here. Kissed me…”

The balcony is transformed from how it was a year ago. Tiny string lights create a canopy overhead, mimicking the stars obscured by Paris’s glow. A small table holds a bottle of champagne on ice, two flutes next to it. Rose petals scatter across the stone floor, and the view of the city stretches out before us, just as magical as it was the night we were last here.

That night, I thought I might die from heartbreak. Tonight, I feel as though I have been reborn thanks to love.

Emily’s fingers brush against mine, and I feel that spark — not static from the dry air, but the same jolt of connection I’ve felt for a year.

“You were right.” I turn to face her, taking both her hands in mine. “About everything. About how I was hiding from real relationships because I was afraid of failing at them. Afraid of letting others down.”

The city lights reflect in her eyes, turning them into something magical. “You never failed, Hugo. You just needed to find your balance.”

“And you showed me how.” I squeeze her hands gently. “This past year, watching you live your life has been… inspiring. The way you walked away from that TV show because it didn’t align with your values. How you’re training those new matchmakers, keeping the process personal like you always wanted.”

“I learned that from you, you know,” she says, surprising me. “Watching you lead your country with such care, even when it’s hard. You taught me that compromise doesn’t mean sacrificing what matters most.”

My heart swells at her words. This is only one of the many reasons I love her — her ability to see the best in me, to reflect it back when I need it most.

“When you moved to Marzieu,” I continue, “I felt like our worlds finally aligned. Like the puzzle pieces fell into place.”

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