Page 21 of The Problem with Princes
“It is a bit garish for this day and age, I know. But it was painted more than five hundred years ago.” Prince Tyrone leans over, whispering into my ear. “And it was done by Raphael. It’s not something you just paint over.”
I swallow hard. Raphael? I’m pretty sure he isn’t talking about the Ninja Turtle. I glance over at him. Is he serious? The look on his face says he is. “It’s amazing,” I breathe out.
King Alejandro clears his throat and I return my gaze to the table and its occupants. “Thank you for joining us, Miss Martindale and Miss Kincade.” He bites his lower lip a moment. “This small gesture doesn’t come close to expressing how grateful we are for what you did for Tyrone.”
I shake my head. I want to wave him away, uncomfortable with the praise he is giving me. Surely, someone else would have discovered the problem with the brake line, had I not told them of it. That is why he has so many bodyguards, right? Don’t they check under the cars with mirrors or something like that?
“Really, you don’t need to thank me. We’re all good.”
The king tilts his head to the side and gives me an odd look.
Thankfully, just then a horde of servants brings in trays of food. I smell themoussakabefore I see the dish.My mouth waters and my stomach lets out a loud growl. I glance to my side and notice the prince smothering a grin. Whatever. I’m starving.
A bowl ofkotosoupa avgolemenois set in front of me.Texie leans over, and whispers in my other ear. “What is this?”
“It’s a chicken soup with a broth and lemon base.” I breathe in deeply. “You’ll love it. I promise.” I look up at the server. “Sas efcharistó.”
His face brightens at the thanks. “Parakaló.”
Texie looks up at the server and attempts the thank you in Greek, but it comes out sounding nothing like it should. The server smiles at her and tells her she is welcome.
She stares down at her bowl for a moment and then runs her spoon through the soup, taking a tentative bite. I watch her eyes brighten as the lemon undertones hit her taste buds. She turns back to me and smiles. “You’re right; this is really good.”
I turn my attention to the food in front of me. It has been ages since I’ve hadkotosoupa avgolemenoand I plan to savor every moment of it.
“Miss Martindale, have you ever had a really terrible morning, that only led to a terrible afternoon and a terrible evening?”
I nod. “I’m pretty sure everyone has days like that.”
He smiles and glances back at his plate. “I’m afraid I was in the midst of such a day when I encountered you on the street. I must apologize for my behavior that day.” The prince’s breath tickles my neck and I feel goosebumps cover my arms and legs.“For both our previous encounters.”
I wince slightly as the bumps cover my stomach and my burns tingle.
“No worries. We’re all good.” I don’t want to look at him because I’m sure he is giving me a look that will make me soften toward him, especially since he has gone and changed his clothes. And I’m not sure I want to soften toward him. Did changing his clothes negate our first two encounters?
My eyes flick over to him against my better judgment. Stupid, traitorous eyes.
My breath hitches and my suspicions are confirmed. There is a look of sincerity in his eyes. I purse my lips together tightly, willing myself not to cave. It is so obvious this guy is a total player. He knows he is next level gorgeous and the whole prince thing doesn’t hurt him, I’m sure. But here’s the thing. I’m a big believer in first impressions—in peoples’ reactions when bad things happen. That is when you see someone’s true character. I’m confident I have seen this guy’s true, unedited self. And it isn’t pretty.
But I also understand bad days. That day was not my best day either. And I had not been as kind as perhaps I should have been. Regardless of his reaction to me. My mom always says poor behavior doesn’t excuse poor behavior. I have grown to hate that phrase over the years. But I also understand the truth of it.
Which if that is the case, shouldn’t I cut him a little slack? He is trying to make it up to me, isn’t he? Isn’t that why he changed his clothes? To make me feel more at ease?
I take a bite of soup, trying to process my emotions.
“You see, I had just left a meeting with my father in which he told me I was required to meet with the Petroleum Union next month.”
I nod. “Oh, sure. I can see how that would make you unhappy,” I say, my tone flat. Is this supposed to make me feel bad for him? He actually had to do some work and it had made him mad? Ugh. Trust fund kids are the worst. Tanner would have had a similar response if he’d ever been made to work. I had learned my lesson with him—stay away from the uber rich.
“I know that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but I had a big ski trip planned with a bunch of my mates from Oxford.” He’s right. It doesn’t seem like such a big deal. Not something that would justify how rude he was to me.
I gave him a pouty face. “Aww, did you have to miss out on a vacation? What, have the other dozen you’ve been on this year not been enough?”
He frowns and I feel a tug of guilt. Why am I being such a jerk? He is trying to apologize. But I can’t seem to shake the earlier assumptions I’d made about him.
“I haven’t been on a dozen trips this year. Is that what your papers said?”
Part of me wants to tell him that our papers don’t even know he exists, but that would be a flat out lie. And as we have already established, I’m not good at lying. “No. I just assumed. Isn’t that what royal people do? Go on trips and wave to people?” I give him my best elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist wave.
