He nodded as we pulled onto the main road. “You have no idea. Some hardcore loyalists even started to switch their diets. The people were split on it. It got so big that the palace wasn’t sure whether it was worthy of an official royal statement or not. Prince Arthur wasn’t even vegan. He just hadn’t eaten it because he and his wife were trying to eat a little cleaner.”
“So, how did the Vegan Crisis of Ersovia come to an end?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. It was so silly.
“Prince Arthur went to dinner with his wife, where he ordered a grilled balsamic chicken cobb salad.” He grinned again like he was really proud. “Not an official royal statement, but it was a statement. Eat meat if you want but also be healthy was the takeaway. He got a lot of praise, but vegans were disappointed.”
“Wow.” I leaned against the door. “All of this from rumors?”
“Yep, which is why Iskandar was so harsh, and His Highness accepted. He is used to it, but the last thing he wants is for you to be hounded from the get-go.”
I smiled. “From the get-go? What about not getting hounded at all?”
He frowned and met my eyes for a second in the rearview mirror. “Sadly, that’s not possible. But at least you have a little experience with the media.”
I did—especially when my father was alive.
However, it had always been directed at my mother, really. She never seemed affected by it, but I wondered if she just hid it from me when I was young.
“I apologize, ma’am.”
“Huh?” I focused back on him. “For what?”
“You looked worried. I didn’t mean to frighten you or anything—Iskandar always tells me to talk less for this exact reason.” He cringed.
“No, you’re fine. I’m not worried. And you can just call me Odette.”
“Iskandar would have my head.” He laughed. “It’s either ma’am, miss, or my lady.”
“My lady?” What? “So, you all really still do that?”
“Never stopped. As I said, Ersovians really like our monarchy and traditions,” he answered, and I made a mental note of that.
“Ma’am or miss is fine then.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I glanced out the window, and only then did I even think to ask, “Where are we going exactly?”
Chapter 12
“You are fidgeting, sir.”
“I am not. Fidgeting is a nervous habit, and I am not nervous. I am only fixing my cufflinks.”
“For the twelfth time.”
I glanced up at him. “Do you have to be so close to guard me? No one else is here.”
No one else was here because the only way I could take her out to dinner was to rent out the whole place for the night. I was starting to think all of our money over the years was used only for security. Instead of answering me, he took a single step back as if that really made any difference. Trying to ignore him, I shifted the watch on my wrist to check the time. Rising from my chair, I glanced out at the décor of little Italy above the city, as her mother described it. Sapori D’italia was her favorite restaurant. It was massive, two levels in fact, and in the middle of the winding stairs was a giant tree, and old-fashioned lanterns hung inside of it. There was a Roman-style water fountain at the entrance, and the walls were made of aged cobblestone, even though I had yet to see any in this modern city at all. To top it all off was the view, the lights from every building and car glimmered like a million fireflies from way up here. She had said she was cold and wasn’t easily moved, but if this was her favorite place, I had a feeling she was much more of a romantic than she wanted to admit.
“She is here,” Iskandar stated, but he held out his hand to stop me. “Wolfgang will bring her up.”
“You will not even let me meet her at the door? What? Are journalists waiting at the entrance?” This was ridiculous.
“Remember it is for her sake, not your own, sir,” he said, walking around me and the table toward the top of the stairs. “Besides, you do not want to seem too eager, sir.”
“Once again, with the romantic advice, Iskandar? Are you sure you aren’t secretly married since you know so much?”
He ignored me and walked to the top of the stairs.
I inhaled and shook out my fingers, not sure what the hell was wrong with my hand as I heard what could only be heels as they climbed the stairs.
Relax. This is simple. You’ve gone on plenty of dates before. This is just—holy shit.
She was merciless.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
I wasn’t sure if Shakespeare was talking about a woman then. But seeing her, it was what came to mind. She walked toward me in a crimson-colored, V-neck dress that hugged the top of her breasts before flowing down at her waist. But as if that was not tempting enough, it had a slit on the side, showing her endlessly long, smooth legs with each step. In her thick, curly hair, there was a single rose at her ear.
“Ahem.” Iskandar made a noise from behind her. For the first time ever, he gave me an expression, and it was one that could only be described as what the hell, man?
“Are you okay?” She tilted her head, looking me over.
I shook my head. “I knew you were beautiful, but I was not expecting you to look so beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Thank you, but you’re exaggerating again.”
“Exaggeration is not necessary,” I replied, offering her my arm.
Her eyebrow rose, but she took it as I led her three feet over to her seat and pulled out her chair. To say I was tempted to touch her bare skin exposed by her dress would have been minimizing how I felt. Swallowing the clear and obvious lust, I was getting lost, and I moved back to my seat.
“Thank you for coming.”
“You sent five hundred roses. It was the least I could do.” She laughed.
“So, you counted them?”
“No, my mother did,” she shot back quickly, and I hated to say it, but it stung a little.
I guess my face exposed all of my emotions.
She quickly said, “I did find the silk one, though. Thank you.”
“I wanted to send a thousand, but they could not get that many on such short notice,” I admitted.
“Oh, my God.” Her shoulders dropped, and her red-stained lips parted. “I was trying to think of what to do with the other four hundred and ninety-nine roses. I would have been completely lost if you had sent a thousand.”
“What do you mean, lost?”
“As you said, the roses wither and die. I really like them. But thinking about watching them fade day by day and only end up in the trash one at a time bothers me. It’s such a waste,” she explained.
“Do you always think of the end before you appreciate the beginning?”
“Huh?”
“Well.” I thought about my words carefully. “It takes days for cut roses to die, and until that moment happens, you are supposed to look at them and smile. You appreciate the beauty of them while they are in front of you. And then when they are gone, you forever remember the day you got them and the feelings you felt in having them. If you focus on the fact that they will die, then you miss out on all the beauty while they were alive.”