Page 12 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
“I’ll make some custard to go with it — crème anglaise,” she said.
Adrien was bemused at the way she appeared so willing to indulge him. He hadn’t eaten a steamed sponge pudding in years — not since he’d returned to his school to open a new wing named in his honor. The cook had remembered his liking for the sweet, calorific dessert, but on that occasion it had been served in such a way as to elevate it to the level of fine dining. But such a dish wasn’t fine dining. As a boy, Adrien remembered large helpings, doled out from a dish at the center of the table, with the jug of custard to accompany it — and that was how he wanted to eat it again.
“And please, don’t make it fancy. It’s all meant to meld together in the bowl,” he said.
Claire laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it a mess for you. Shall I serve it this evening? I’ve got a steak for you, too,” she said.
There was something almost indecent in the way she said those last words — it was a temptation, but one Adrien was more than willing to give into.
“Oh, yes, that would be delicious,” he exclaimed, his mouth salivating at the very thought.
Claire smiled at him and nodded. “And gnocchi for lunch. Something light in case you want to swim again.”
It all sounded delicious, and if this was what he was to enjoy in the coming days, Adrien had a feeling he’d enjoy his time on theAuroramore than he’d earlier feared.Meeting her, too, had been a revelation — she was certainly nothing like he might’ve imagined Giuseppe’s chef to be. It would be an encounter he wouldn’t easily forget.
“I’d better let you get on. But thank you… it’s been so nice to talk,” Adrien said, smiling at Claire, who now held his gaze, rather than looking embarrassed.
“I’m glad I know what you like now,” she said. “I hope it’ll be just as you remember it.”
Adrien nodded, and thanking her a second time, he took his leave, feeling pleasantly surprised at the encounter they’d shared, and finding himself looking forward to seeing her again.
CHAPTER 7
CLAIRE
“What just happened?” Anna-Marie hissed, as she entered the kitchen just as the prince was leaving.
Claire smiled. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, or, rather, she knew what had happened, but couldn’t quite believe it had. Had the prince really just told her his favorite dish was a nostalgia- and calorie- laden steamed sponge pudding with custard? And had she really just agreed to make it for him? It was one of those moments that creates a lasting impression, and Claire knew she’d never forget being surprised in the galley by the crown prince of Flandenne.
“Well, I… The prince came to talk about the food for tonight,” Claire replied, as though it was something entirely ordinary.
Anna-Marie stared at her in astonishment. “But what were you doing talking to him? I heard you laughing.Hewas laughing.”
“Is that a crime?”
Claire had been shy at first. It wasn’t every day she talked to a prince, but there’d been no airs and graces on his part. He’d put her at ease, and the revelation of his favorite dish had beenquite remarkable. But more than that, there’d been something genuine about him. He hadn’t talked down to her or made her feel as though she was there to serve him. By the end of their conversation, it had felt to Claire as though she was talking to a friend, rather than one of the richest men in the world.
“But… why did he notice you?” Anna-Marie exclaimed, betraying something of an obvious jealousy.
Claire shrugged. She wasn’t about to tell the maid about the incident that morning, when she and the prince had encountered one another by accident. It was none of Anna-Marie’s business. Besides, why shouldn’t the prince notice her? Had she been of a different disposition, Claire might’ve pointed out the fact Anna-Marie was behaving like a tittering schoolgirl, always hovering around the prince and making it her business to be near him. No one wanted that, but Claire was far more diplomatic.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he just likes my cooking.”
Anna-Marie pursed her lips.
“Mr. Bellagio won’t like it,” she said.
Claire smiled. “I didn’t drag him down here. He came to talk to me about the kind of food he likes. I don’t think Mr. Bellagio would care.”
Anna-Marie remained in a sulk for the rest of the day. Claire ignored her. What did she think was going to happen? The crown prince of Flandenne was hardly going to step on board the yacht and immediately fall madly in love with the maid. But for the rest of the day, Claire had a smile on her face. Not because she thought the prince would remember their encounter, orbecause — unlike Anna-Marie — she had false hopes of some fantasy romance, but for the simple fact of his kindness.
She’d wondered about him before. Or, rather, she’d allowed what was written about him to cloud her judgement. But the man who’d appeared in the galley that morning was hardly the “playboy prince” of the tabloids. Had she been asked what she thought he was like before meeting him, Claire might’ve accused him of arrogance and self-entitlement, superiority and a disrespect for women. But his behavior that morning had been the very opposite, though she still wondered what had been going through his mind as she stood shirtless at his cabin window and when he’d abandoned the princess at Le Paradis.
“What are you making?” Anton asked, when he entered the galley before dinner that evening. “I want to know what wines to serve.”
“It’s steak for the main course, and a steamed sponge pudding with custard for dessert,” Claire replied, looking up at him from the stove.
Anton raised his eyebrows. “A what?” he asked.
