Page 7 of His Royal Matchmaker

“When a queen summons you to matchmake for a prince, you don’t say, ‘Maybe next month?’” Nova suggests.

“Precisely.” I laugh. “So, I told him I’d make it work. I’ve been rescheduling clients and prepping Micah to handle things while I’m gone ever since. It’s been absolute chaos.”

I return to my packing with renewed focus, pulling open my jewelry box to select pieces that will work for various occasions. My head is still spinning, and I’m glad that I have to do so much before I leave, otherwise I would be sitting around doubting whether I’m up to this job or not.

I need to keep reminding myself that the queen asked for me specifically. Apparently she saw my photo with Ricardo and — just like Nova predicted someone would — decided she had to hire me.

“So, what do you know about this prince?” Nova asks. “Is he handsome? Smart? A total mess who needs a miracle worker?”

“Well, after the call, I immediately looked him up.” I feel my cheeks warm slightly at the memory. “Prince Hugo Bastien of Marzieu. And, Nova… the man is gorgeous. Like, unfairly so.”

“Let me guess — tall, dark, and royal?”

“Six-foot-something, dark hair that looks like it’s always perfectly styled even when it’s messy, and these intense blue eyes that seem to look right through you.” I recall the official photos I’d scrolled through, along with the candid shots fromvarious events. “But get this — according to all the articles I could find, he’s never had a serious girlfriend. At least, not one that made it to the public eye. He used to be quite the party boy until his father died five years ago, and since then it seems to be all work, no play.”

“So, either he’s incredibly private, or…”

“Or I have my work cut out for me,” I finish her thought, frowning at a pair of heels I’m not sure will be comfortable enough for palace hallways. “The articles paint him as this reformed playboy. As I said, he was quite the party prince in his twenties — yacht parties in Monaco, ski trips with models in Switzerland — the whole ‘rich royal bachelor’ package.”

I select another pair of shoes and add them to my suitcase. “But when his father died, he completely changed.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Nova notes, her voice softening. “Losing his dad and having to step up at the same time.”

“Exactly.” I pause my packing, thinking about the challenge ahead. “That’s what worries me. The queen wants me to find him a match, but from what I’ve read, this man has made his royal duties his whole identity. How do you match someone who doesn’t seem to have room in their life for a relationship?”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’s you,” Nova says with complete confidence. “You’ve matched people with way more complicated issues… and it’s not likeyouhave much room in your life for a relationship right now, so you can relate.”

That stings a bit, but only because it’s true.

“Maybe,” I say. “But I’ve never matched a prince before. The stakes feel higher somehow.”

“Just treat him like any other client,” Nova advises. “Prince or not, he’s still just a person looking for love — even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

I smile at her simplification of my task. “You make it sound so easy.”

“That’s why you’re the matchmaker and I’m just the best friend who gets to hear all the juicy details.” She pauses. “Speaking of which, you better call me with regular updates. I want to know everything — what the palace looks like, what the prince is like in person, if there are any cute royal guards…”

“I promise.” I laugh, surveying my now packed suitcase with a critical eye. “I just hope I’m packing the right things. What does one wear when trying to find a prince his perfect match?”

“Clothes that make you feel confident. The rest will fall into place.”

After we say our goodbyes, I zip up my suitcase and set it on the floor beside my bed. The challenge ahead is daunting, but it’s also exactly the kind that I live for. Finding love for those who think they don’t have time for it, who’ve built walls around their hearts, who need a little help seeing what’s possible — that’s what I do best.

Prince Hugo Bastien might be my most high-profile client yet, but underneath the crown and royal protocols, he’s just a person. And everyone, even a prince, deserves to find their perfect match.

CHAPTER 4

EMILY

Ipress my nose to the car window as the driver winds us up the mountain road. The palace of Marzieu appears like something from a fairy tale, all white stone and gleaming spires against the blue sky. My heart does a little skip. Somewhere inside those walls is Prince Hugo Bastien, my newest client and probably my biggest challenge yet.

Sitting taller, I straighten my blazer and remind myself that I’m here because I’m good — really good — at what I do. Five years as a high-profile matchmaker has taught me that everyone, even a stuffy royal, has a heart that needs the right person to unlock it.

The car passes through iron gates taller than two-story buildings, and guards in crisp uniforms nod as we glide by, their faces serious under their caps. The driveway seems to go on forever, curving through gardens where fountains spray diamonds into the air. I can’t help but feel like I’m in a movie.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” says my driver, catching my wide eyes in the rearview mirror.

“It’s… a lot,” I answer, which makes him chuckle.

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