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“I care,” he says sternly.
“But—”
“No arguments.”
There's a finality to his words, and I know there's no point in continuing the conversation. And anyway, the fact I beat him last year can remain one of my own private—and most definitely favorite—memories.
I bow my head. “Yes, Father.”
End of topic.
“How’s it going with the American? I saw photos of you at some hospital you visited together.”
I smile at the memory. I might have been doing my father’s bidding but being there for Maddie when she needed me felt so good. So right.
“It was the Tleurbonne Children’s Hospital, her first public appearance outside of the palace. It went extremely well. She’s an absolute natural with the patients, a lot like I’m told Princess Diana was, back in the day. We met this one child who?—”
He waves his hand in the air to stop me. “I don’t need a blow by blow.”
Chastised, I clamp my mouth shut. “Of course, Father.”
“Are you getting on well?”
“We are.” A smile tugs at the edges of my mouth, the way it always does when I think of Maddie. There’s something about her that draws me to her, like a magnetic pull. It’s not just that she’s a beautiful woman, but there’s no denying she is. She’s got long dark hair that frames her fine features perfectly, highlighting her iridescent blue eyes—and the most kissable of mouths with full, inviting lips.
Yes, those lips.
I admit, I’ve thought about kissing her. More than once. That day we rode the bike to the top of the hill, I could think of nothing else. I mean, really, what’s a guy to do when the woman he can’t stop thinking about licks her ice cream in the sexiest way imaginable?
It took all my self-control not to take her in my arms and insist she replace her ice cream with me before I gave her the most long-awaited and anticipated kiss of my whole life.
There have been other moments, moments that would have done for a woman I didn’t care for the way I do Maddie. There’s no denying I wanted it to happen.
But when it does happen—and I so hope it will happen—I want it to be perfect. This isn’t just some girl with which I’m having a flirtation. This is Madeline. She’s special. I want our first kiss to be nothing short of perfect.
“And?” father leads.
“And she’s not who I thought she was.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s not some gold digger who’s cashing in on her newfound fame. That’s not her at all. She’s genuine, sweet, funny. She’s smart, too.”
He harrumphs. “Perhaps she’s merely a good actress? Have you thought of that? Whatever she is, you’re doing good work. Keep it up.” He gives me an awkward pat on the shoulder.
Did Father just compliment me?
He looks over my shoulder and says, “Ah, Maximilien.”
My brother strides into the room and immediately pulls off his jacket and sits down heavily in a chair next to me, removing his shoes.
“What are you two plotting?” Max asks.
“Nothing,” I reply, feeling oddly guilty.
“The cheese event next. Who knows, with practice, you may rival your brother,” Father says. “I plan on doing so myself this year.”
“Maybe,” Max replies.
