Page 11 of Royal Charmer
He gives me a skeptical look.
“Moving on,” I say brightly, turning off my phone.
A servant steps forward and speaks quietly to Lucas, who responds with a low conversation. After the servant leaves, Lucas says, “I just told him we’d take whatever the chef already had planned for your dinner. It’s summer salad, lobster, and chocolate soufflé with cherry sauce. Hope that sounds good to you.”
“It does!” My spirits lift. Dinner sounds wonderful, Mason and Riley can’t reach me with my phone off, and now that I have company, I don’t feel nearly so…well, pathetic.
A few minutes later, we’re served two flutes of champagne. Suddenly it does feel like a party.
Lucas offers his glass in a toast. “To burning stuff.”
I clink my glass against his. “Yes!” I take a sip, the bubbles and sweet taste making me positively cheerful.
“I didn’t have time to pick up the smug ass’s book, so what should we burn?”
“I was thinking my lingerie. Like, too bad you’ll never get to see me in this! It was all brand-new stuff bought for the honeymoon.”
He cocks his head. “You sure? Maybe you could wear it for a different guy.”
I swipe a hand through the air. “No way. I’ve sworn off men forever.”
He smirks and takes a sip of champagne.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“No.”
“It’s true.” I take another healthy swallow of champagne. “I no longer believe in happy-ever-after.” That makes me so sad, I guzzle the remainder of the champagne. A servant instantly steps forward and refills it.
Lucas leans back in his seat. “Everyone says that after a breakup. Two weeks later—”
“Two weeks! Is that what you do? Because I’m thinking more like years.”
He lifts a hand lazily. “Okay.”
Clearly he doesn’t believe me. “Have you ever had a serious breakup?”
“Yes.” He taps the table. “And the best way to get over someone is to get another someone under you. Or for you, another someone over you, whatever works for you.”
My jaw drops. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
He lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Just being honest.”
“Pig.” I slap a hand over my mouth. “That slipped out.”
He gives me a cocky grin. “No, it didn’t. You meant it. I don’t apologize for enjoying myself. But, hey, if you want to burn your lingerie, we’ll burn your lingerie.”
“What do you burn after a breakup?”
“I don’t generally keep anything, so there’s nothing to burn.”
“Nothing?” I press. “Not even a left-behind shirt or a love note?” Mason penned some poetry for me.
“Oh my Lord, she has love notes.” He leans back in his seat. “Let me guess, they were poorly written poetry.”
“They weren’t that bad.” I hate to admit I was thrilled to get them. It seemed exceedingly romantic, and no man had ever written me anything beyond a text before that.
“I hope you burned them.”
