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“I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Alexander.” I offer her my hand.
She opens her mouth to speak but then seems to think better of it and closes it again.
I suppress a scoff. Of course she doesn't know what to say to me. She could lead with “sorry”. That would at least be a start. In fact, that would be the bare minimum I would expect of her, given the circumstances.
When she doesn't respond, Amelia jumps in for her. “This is Princess Madeline of Malveaux. Madeline, this is my brother, Alex, the one I was telling you about.”
I arch an eyebrow and it pulls on my swollen nose. “Princess Madeline of Malveaux,” I repeat as I bow my head with my hand held over my heart. I'm hamming it up, just to irk her. “I'm thoroughly enchanted to make your acquaintance.” I pause before I add, “For the very first time.”
I lift my head and look at her wide-eyed expression. She doesn't know what to say or how to behave. I've totally thrown her—and I've begun to enjoy this. After all, this woman attacked me for no good reason, leaving me with a painful and swollen nose that may or may not be broken. Although the kind member of staff who provided me with an ice pack assured me it wasn't in fact broken, it certainly feels bruised and battered.
She still hasn't taken my hand, so I purposefully move it closer to her. After a beat she takes it in her left hand and gives it one singular shake.
She's acting like a petulant child, which is totally ridiculous considering I'm the injured party in this instance.
“I’m thoroughly enchanted to meet you, too,” she says with a smile that gets nowhere near her eyes.
“I’m sure not quite as enchanted as I am to meet you,” I reply, layering it on thick.
“Perhaps we’re equally enchanted,” she offers.
“Oh, I very much doubt that. I'm the enchanted one.”
We stare at one another like we're in a face off.
Amelia is watching us. “You're acting weird.”
“Who? Me?” I ask.
“What did happen to your face, because from where I’m standing, it seems to have affected your brain.”
I glance at the American Princess. She's studying the floor as though it's become rather fascinating.
As well she might.
She's hardly going to volunteer the information that my face met the wrong end of her fist in an entirely unjustified attack.
I clear my throat and wait, giving her the chance to confess.
But it would seem the floor remains so much more fascinating.
“My brain is absolutely fine, but thank you for your concern, Ami. It was a case of waiter’s tray meets face,” I lie, wondering how this new princess will react.
That makes her snap her attention to me.
She must know I'm protecting her. Of course I am. I gave her my word. I'm not planning on telling my sister about what actually happened. Or anyone else for that matter.
What do you think of me now?
“Ouch!” Amelia declares. “But good news on the brain sitch.”
“It’s fine.” I offer my sister a benevolent smile before I return my attention to Madeline. “You should see the tray.”
Amelia giggles. “As long as you're okay.”
“Nothing damaged but my ego. And my nose. Clearly,” I reply. “Ami, would you mind hunting down a real drink for me, not this horrible cough medicine masquerading as champagne?”
“I'm sure a member of the wait staff will be here soon,” she protests. “I'll protect you from their trays. Don't you worry.”
