Page 23 of Royal Icing
She probably shouldn’t mention the fact that she was going with her brother.
Ruby stood up and walked over to her, seeming to size Emma up. “I think we’re about the same size. Come with me,” she said, heading for the door.
“Oh, I couldn’t?—”
“We can’t have you freezing to death. Besides, it’s nothing. The winter carnival vibe is very après-ski and casual.”
Après what now?
“Even if you’re—hypothetically—in the company of royalty?” Emma asked.
Ruby stopped in her tracks, and Emma almost ran into her. She whirled around. “You’re not going with John?”
Emma shook her head.
Ruby seemed to be relieved. “Good. We do have to do a little bit more work, in that case. I assume you’d like to keep a low profile?”
“The lowest. Can you make me invisible?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Forty-five minutes later, Emma emerged from the princess’s department-store-sized closet feeling a bit foolish. The girl had a keen eye for fashion—maybe a little too wild for Emma’s taste, since she rarely wore anything but work and athleisure clothes. She hadn’t been on a date in almost two years, and she had sold some of her going-out clothes to help make ends meet.
Ruby had grilled her on life in New York—what was her favorite Broadway show? Where were the best tacos? Had she ever run into celebrities? While the real highlight of Emma’s career had been crafting a commissioned birthday cake for Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Princess Ruby was more excited by Timothee Chalamet’s brief visit in the fall.
Emma had to talk her down from wearing faux fur head to toe, and instead they had settled on all-black attire. A black cashmere sweater beneath a black puffer jacket. Surprisingly warm leggings tapered into fur-lined snow boots. And a black beanie pulled low over her ears. Would it be insane to wear sunglasses at night? The less of her face that was recognizable, the better.
Maybe Leo was exaggerating the interest from the press and public. She could probably keep a few feet between them. No one had ever noticed her before—why would they start now?
“Thank you so much,” she said to Ruby.
“It was nothing. Thank you for the croissants.”
“I’ll make them for you anytime.” Emma checked her watch. “Crap, I better go.” She took a step, then stopped. “Crap, I probably shouldn’t say ‘crap’ around a princess.”
The girl giggled. “Don’t worry about it. Have fun tonight.”
Emma started to leave the room, but Ruby stopped her once more.
“Cardamom,” she said.
Emma turned around. “Pardon?”
“My mom loves cardamom. Use the information however you see fit.”
She disappeared back into her closet with a wave.
Emma’s mind spiraled with ideas. Maple cardamom sticky buns. Browned butter snickerdoodle cookies. Wait, shit. Not fancy enough. Maybe fig and cardamom macarons? There was time to worry about this later. Cardamom was a start, but right now she needed to pump Leo for more information—and try not to humiliate herself again.
Magnificent and regal was the official request, but the secret to Emma’s success had always been identifying the client’s unspoken underlying needs. Did the queen want to feel special? Powerful? What made her tick?
CHAPTER NINE
LEO
Leo knockedon Emma’s door. His gut was a tangle of nerves, and he couldn’t figure out if it was because of the project or because she might still be mad at him. And who could blame her? He had plenty of opportunity to tell her who he was, but he hadn’t. Hopefully some carnival food would help mend things.
The door opened, and he smiled without meaning to. He was still getting used to how short Emma was. She didn’t look mad, at least. Her apartment smelled like cinnamon and clove. It was warm and inviting, unlike the drafty halls of the castle.
