sobers immediately. Of course he knows this. Nothing the She-Wolf does surprises him, because, as one of my oldest friends, he’s known the truth of her character since childhood.
“Why would the Hereditary Princess of Vattenguldia believe you were interested in a match?” He pours us both another glass of the crappy cognac. “What happened in that hallway?”
“Nothing. We looked at each other, I suppose.”
Parker’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.
Well, shite. “Not looked at each other,” I quickly clarify.
The corners of the bastard’s mouth twitch.
“I meant, we were both in the hallway. We’d bumped into each other. Well, I ran into her. This place is filled with incredibly narrow corridors.” I cross my arms, but then realize how that must make me look defensive, forcing me to relax. “Our eyes gravitated toward one another as polite people are prone to do when they are the only ones present. At a distance no less.” I don’t bother to let him know we were close enough I was virtually drunk on her perfume, a vanilla mixture which was ten trillion times more fantastic than the She-Wolf’s dead roses scent.
Parker runs a finger along the rim of his glass. “And a marriage proposal was determined from this look?” He whistles. “That must have a hell of a look, Chris.”
Wanker. “I’m telling you, the look was no look , or at least, it was no look that one could determine a lifelong commitment from. It was a polite look. A glance, to be more specific.” I snap my fingers. “An acknowledgement of another’s existence.”
“The lady doth protest too much, I believe.”
Friend or no, I still issue a quiet warning.
“My apologies. Now that we have firmly defined what kind of look it was, and made sure we’ve both said the word a dozen times apiece, maybe I ought to continue with what I know about this princess?”
I run a hand across my face. “Go ahead.”
“Rumor has it that Her Royal Highness is a straight shooter. This trait has endeared her to the Vattenguldian citizens. Despite their adoration of Prince Gustav, Princess Elsa is viewed as a breath of fresh air in a country that much of Europe overlooks or considers antiquated. She’s serious about her charity work, the environment, and keen on ensuring Vattenguldia finds its footing and thrives in today’s economy whilst fiercely celebrating its cultural past.” Parker rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, you two may have more in common than you think.”
I at least have some manners. “How so?”
He sips his drink slowly. “Concerning the quest to find a suitable match here this week. I’m assuming that, alongside her rejection, Her Royal Highness indicated she has no interest in playing a willing contestant in the RMM, correct?”
My ego will not allow me to relive such humiliation in vivid detail. “In not so many polite words, yes, that was the gist of it.”
“Maybe you ought to befriend her. You could be each other’s haven in this brothel.”
I end up choking—literally choking —on the bloody cognac.
As Parker beats my back, I reluctantly allow that the idea, as hideous as it is, might have merit. But value or no, I also have pride and that pride insists there is no good to come from befriending a woman hell-bent on focusing on her . . . what had she called it— work? —at the detriment of common decency. Besides, the Valkyrie is a princess the She-Wolf would sell her husband’s soul to have me befriend, as it’d be an in to the sister. So, bollocks to that.
When I can speak, I tell Parker, “It’s best to avoid her entirely.”
He disapproves. Too bad. “Where the hell is Lukas?” I send my brother a quick text, informing him that Parker and I have the booze out, and that if he wants to survive tonight, he better come and have some already.
chapter 9
Elsa
My father tugs at his bow tie. “Are you girls enjoying yourselves?”
I let Isabelle answer, as he must
“Why would the Hereditary Princess of Vattenguldia believe you were interested in a match?” He pours us both another glass of the crappy cognac. “What happened in that hallway?”
“Nothing. We looked at each other, I suppose.”
Parker’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.
Well, shite. “Not looked at each other,” I quickly clarify.
The corners of the bastard’s mouth twitch.
“I meant, we were both in the hallway. We’d bumped into each other. Well, I ran into her. This place is filled with incredibly narrow corridors.” I cross my arms, but then realize how that must make me look defensive, forcing me to relax. “Our eyes gravitated toward one another as polite people are prone to do when they are the only ones present. At a distance no less.” I don’t bother to let him know we were close enough I was virtually drunk on her perfume, a vanilla mixture which was ten trillion times more fantastic than the She-Wolf’s dead roses scent.
Parker runs a finger along the rim of his glass. “And a marriage proposal was determined from this look?” He whistles. “That must have a hell of a look, Chris.”
Wanker. “I’m telling you, the look was no look , or at least, it was no look that one could determine a lifelong commitment from. It was a polite look. A glance, to be more specific.” I snap my fingers. “An acknowledgement of another’s existence.”
“The lady doth protest too much, I believe.”
Friend or no, I still issue a quiet warning.
“My apologies. Now that we have firmly defined what kind of look it was, and made sure we’ve both said the word a dozen times apiece, maybe I ought to continue with what I know about this princess?”
I run a hand across my face. “Go ahead.”
“Rumor has it that Her Royal Highness is a straight shooter. This trait has endeared her to the Vattenguldian citizens. Despite their adoration of Prince Gustav, Princess Elsa is viewed as a breath of fresh air in a country that much of Europe overlooks or considers antiquated. She’s serious about her charity work, the environment, and keen on ensuring Vattenguldia finds its footing and thrives in today’s economy whilst fiercely celebrating its cultural past.” Parker rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, you two may have more in common than you think.”
I at least have some manners. “How so?”
He sips his drink slowly. “Concerning the quest to find a suitable match here this week. I’m assuming that, alongside her rejection, Her Royal Highness indicated she has no interest in playing a willing contestant in the RMM, correct?”
My ego will not allow me to relive such humiliation in vivid detail. “In not so many polite words, yes, that was the gist of it.”
“Maybe you ought to befriend her. You could be each other’s haven in this brothel.”
I end up choking—literally choking —on the bloody cognac.
As Parker beats my back, I reluctantly allow that the idea, as hideous as it is, might have merit. But value or no, I also have pride and that pride insists there is no good to come from befriending a woman hell-bent on focusing on her . . . what had she called it— work? —at the detriment of common decency. Besides, the Valkyrie is a princess the She-Wolf would sell her husband’s soul to have me befriend, as it’d be an in to the sister. So, bollocks to that.
When I can speak, I tell Parker, “It’s best to avoid her entirely.”
He disapproves. Too bad. “Where the hell is Lukas?” I send my brother a quick text, informing him that Parker and I have the booze out, and that if he wants to survive tonight, he better come and have some already.
chapter 9
Elsa
My father tugs at his bow tie. “Are you girls enjoying yourselves?”
I let Isabelle answer, as he must
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