And there’s the look. The one I was expecting.
I’m now clearly the version of Prince Adrian Marx she was looking for earlier. Was the cheese-covered hand down my shirt taking it a tad too far? Maybe. But I’m sure her expectations were sky-high before she walked in. Now let’s see what she has to say when there are no cameras around to prove she sat down to dinner with royalty.
She steps toward me and I meet her in the middle of the terrace, holding out my hand for hers. Like the princess I’m sure she wants to be, she lays her hand in my palm. I raise it to my lips, kissing the top while bowing slightly. A giddy laugh falls from her lips.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” I say.
“Yes. You as well.”
She doesn’t curtsey, but I’ve had other dates who have.
Standing straight, I offer her my arm. “Are you done with your phone call?”
Her arm easily slides through mine and I hold her hand with my free one, the way my mom taught me from the age of five. The same way my manners classes reinforced through young adolescence.
We walk off the terrace and through the expansive penthouse toward the terrace on the other side, where Jean has set up twinkle lights, candles, and soft music. But before I can open the patio doors, Jean clears his throat behind us.
“Please head out and make yourself comfortable. I’ll only be a moment.” I escort her out of the door and head back in, finding Jean with my cell phone in his hand. “What is it?”
“The queen would like a word.”
“And who will woo my date?”
Jean looks around me. “I’ll handle her. The queen is more important.”
I take the phone from his hands and head into my bedroom so no one can overhear this conversation. Plus, I’m not a big fan of getting reamed out in front of other people.
“Mommy dearest,” I say.
“Don’t, Adrian. The cameras were sent for a reason. They’re proof that you fulfilled the duty of the date. It’s another spotlight moment for the charity.”
“This whole thing is a waste of time. I should be with my friends in the Bahamas. Not here, having dinner with some wannabe princess.”
“When will you ever grow up? There are expectations that are going to press down on you soon. At some point, you need to step up and accept what you were born into.”
“And what if I don’t want what I was born into? Felicia is more than capable of handling responsibilities there.”
My older sister kicks ass and should be the next in line to the throne, but because she wasn’t born with a cock and balls between her legs, all she can hope for is to marry well and push out a few kids.
My mom blows out a breath, annoyed that we’re having this conversation again. “You know the rules of succession. You are next in line to rule, so I suggest you get used to the idea. Nothing is going to change this.”
I have no rebuttal that I haven’t already tried.
“I think we’ve been more than accommodating in indulging your finding yourself phase. You run around the world like you own it, which means you enjoy the money with none of the responsibility that goes along with the title of prince.”
She’s right. My life is a permanent vacation. I only show up to functions when she twists my arm, or they freeze my bank account. And I have been known to whine about how I don’t want to do anything that my role in our family dictates.
As usual, my mother doesn’t allow me to get a word in edgewise. “Now, Jean is going to allow the photographer to come in. They’re going to snap pictures of the two of you together, posed and candid shots. You will smile and behave like the prince I know you are. Is that clear, Adrian?”
She’s using the stern voice she usually reserves for when I do really stupid shit, like the time I took the private plane to Australia to surf when my dad was due to travel the next morning to help a town that had been struck by a tsunami.
“Fine,” I mutter.
There’s a long pause. This is where her mom guilt soaks in. The guilt that her dear children have to grow up with the whole world watching.
“I don’t think we ask much of you,” she says. “We allow you to travel and see the world. But we are your family, and you need to accept the fact there are responsibilities here at home.” She waits for my response, but how many times can we go through this? “I know you’re struggling with what’s happening in a few months, but it will be fine. You’ll adjust. She’s a wonderful girl. Give me some credit.” I can tell from her tone that she’s smiling.
I know the woman I’m arranged to marry. At least I know of her. I’ve stalked her on Instagram just to see who I’ll be spending the rest of my life with. The problem is, she doesn’t seem to love to do anything fun—she visits museums and bookstores. There’s not one picture of her wearing a bikini on the beach.
“Now, please just handle this tonight like you were told. It’s one night and then your obligation is over.”
“Is that him?” Felicia screams from somewhere behind my mother. “Adrian!” She must’ve torn the phone from my mom’s hands. “What the hell? Why did you throw the cameras out?”
“They’re intrusive and annoying. Plus, don’t you think it’ll be uncomfortable for her?”
“Listen—” Felicia lowers her voice. I’m assuming she’s removed herself from our mother’s presence. “I handpicked this woman. She works as a reporter for a small news channel. It’s kind of weird that any woman knows so many facts about you, but whatever, I’m not judging what she’s into. If you mess this up, she’ll probably do a piece on our entire family. Do you think that’s wise right now? With everything else going on?”
Her implication is clear, and I hate the reminder. Two weeks ago, Felicia found my father in a compromising situation with a woman who isn’t our mother. He’s living in another wing of the house now and the woman is threatening to leak the story. We’re in deep distress, which was why I went through with this date—it got me out of Sandsal.
“This is your time to help this family.”
I nod although I don’t answer.
“Please, Adrian.”
I sit on the bed and stare at the floor. “Fine. I’ll allow them in. After this date, I’m coming home and I’m going to have a conversation with Dad.”
“I thought you were going to the Bahamas. Last time you had a conversation with Dad regarding this, you broke his nose.”
“Still bruised?”
She laughs. “Yeah.”
“Okay, well, I better get to the date.”
“Thanks,” she says.
“Did you really handpick her? I thought this was supposed to be a random selection.”
“I wasn’t going to let you spend the night with one of those gushy girls who want you to ride in on a white horse. I’m a cool sister like that. She seems halfway normal, although I’m not sure why she thinks you’re so fascinating.”
“Because I’m a cool guy.”
She laughs. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Talk to you later.”
“Love you,” she says.
“Love you.” I hang up and head to the door.