Page 43 of Royal Charmer
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Alice
Tonight is magical. I can hardly believe I’m here in the freaking Hall of Mirrors, the most famous historic room in the world with its over-the-top opulence, wearing a gown tailored to my exact measurements with a handsome prince in a tux. Pinch me!
We already enjoyed some refreshments—champagne and strawberries, to be precise—and toasted each other over last night’s successful business meeting. Now we’re dancing a waltz alongside other couples. There’s probably a hundred people here in formal wear, seeming to delight in the historic ball as much as I am. It’s heaven for a history nerd. The best part is that Lucas is such a fantastic lead, I can spend all my time ogling the room and the other couples. This is all going in my book.
Lucas turns us, pressing me closer as he does. My focus is abruptly torn from the luxurious room to the fact that there is no polite distance between us anymore. Now there’s miniscule space. The heat of him warms my front, and everything else fades in my mind. There is only me and Lucas.
“You’ve improved since this afternoon,” he says with a crooked smile. “My feet haven’t been stepped on more than five times. That’s progress.”
“Hey! I think it was only twice.”
He winks. “Tell that to my toes.”
I shake my head. “Sorry. You’re a wonderful dancer.”
His warm tender smile takes my breath away. “Thank you, my darling.”
I lick my lips and stare blindly at a point over his shoulder. I need to focus on the purpose of tonight, inspiration for my story. That’s what thatdarlingwas about. He’s playing a part for me. “Would it be weird if I took pictures?”
“Go ahead.”
“I will, after our dance. Then as soon as we’re done here, I’m going straight to my laptop before I forget a single detail. I’m definitely setting my next trilogy here in France. Maybe it will feature someone in the French nobility who’s a frequent visitor to Versailles.”
“We might be here late. There’re professional dancers later performing for us in period costume. I’ve heard it feels like you stepped back in time.”
“Eeep! Okay, I get so excited I tend to rush. I’ll save the writing for tomorrow morning. Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do some more sightseeing after that. Then the next day is your bank meeting. Do you want me to go with you to that?”
“Not necessary.”
I try to keep the disappointment from my voice. “It seems my use as a fake fiancée is just about up.” The clock strikes midnight and Cinderella goes back to her humdrum life.
“Jules did mention they’d want to tour Villroy’s spa and manufacturing area. You should be there for that as my fiancée.”
“Oh. When’s that?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully soon.”
“As long as it’s in the next five weeks, we’re golden.”
“I’m sure it will be. Maybe even this coming week after my meeting.”
The song ends, and he pulls away, still holding my hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm as he escorts me off the dance floor. Another couple immediately approaches to talk to him, and I’m reminded that he’s sort of a celebrity. They’re speaking in French until he pulls me closer, his hand on my lower back, to introduce me in English as his fiancée. He’s trying to make me feel included after our little tiff over the lack of introduction in front of model Bella.
“Hello,” I say with a smile. “So nice to meet you.”
The couple smiles and nods at me, murmuring French, which I choose to think means congratulations on your engagement. I don’t know.
The next hour is like that. We dance (and I get turned-on despite the fact that Lucas keeps a polite distance), and then when the dance ends, people approach him. I suppose it’s the first time he’s been here at a ball, and he’s a bit of a novelty. I can feel myself closing up inside; the disparity between his life and status and mine is stark. Which is a shame. It’s really quite romantic with the candlelight and the dancing. If only I could just enjoy it for what it is and not overthink it.
I let out a sigh as Lucas leads me to some refreshing lemonade. As soon as we’re finished drinking it, he surprises me by taking my hand and pulling me directly into a private alcove at the far end of the room. The guards hover nearby, so it’s never completely private.
“What are you doing?” I ask, breathless from our quick departure. Or maybe it’s that I’m here with him.
He steps close, brushing my hair back behind my ear in a tender gesture that makes my heart hammer. His gaze searches mine. “Are you tired of the ball? We can leave.”
My breath quickens. “No, I love it.”
