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“I’d prefer a glass of brandy, if I’m honest. Why don't you get one for each of us? I'm assuming you could do with a brandy, too, Princess Madeline? You look a little…shaken.”
“Shaken? No, I'm good,” she replies with a scrunch of her nose—something I can't do without wincing.
Show off.
Amelia’s eyes brighten. “That's the best idea you've had all day, Alex. I'll be right back with three glasses. We can have a toast to you, Madeline. Welcome you to the fray.”
“Oh, I'm not much of a brandy drinker,” she replies. “I'll stick with this.” She raises her champagne glass, which I notice is full.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Amelia warns, and Madeline lowers the glass.
Pity. I was rather looking forward to the look on her face as she attempts to swallow her first sip.
“Because it’s utterly dreadful, remember? Wait until I’ve got the brandy, promise?” Amelia says.
“Sure,” she replies uncertainly.
Amelia leaves me with the newest princess in the room, aka Right Hook Madeline.
I lean toward her so only she can hear—did I catch a hint of her scent? Something feminine and evocative.
Not that I plan on being evoked.
“Tell me, Princess Madeline, do you make it a habit to attack first and ask questions later? Or is that a new dimension to your charming personality, now that you're suddenly a princess?”
She twists her mouth. “I thought you’d followed me in there and that you wanted to do something not very nice to me.”
“Not very nice? Like what?” I ask with my eyebrows raised suggestively, a smile on my lips.
Yes, I know, I'm teasing her. But this is the woman who attacked me and failed to even apologize. I can't just let her get away with it, now, can I?
“What?” she snaps.
This woman is a real charmer.
I double down.
“Two unattached people of the opposite sex, alone in a darkened room while everyone else is occupied. Hmm. Tell me, princess, what are the possibilities?”
She looks at me, incredulous, her eyes wide as her jaw slackens.
Target struck.
“You're hitting on me?” she asks in obvious disbelief.
“I’m merely asking a question.”
“Oh, you’re definitely hitting on me.”
I scoff. Who does she think she is? So irresistible to men that even after she's punched me, I want to seduce her? The cheek of this impostor!
Not that she's an actual imposter per se. I'm sure she really is Princess Josephine’s daughter. They would have DNA checked her before they did anything else. The Malveauxian royal family are no fools. But I'm not feeling in the least charitable toward her.
“Princess—” I begin only for her to lift a finger to scold me like I’m a naughty schoolboy.
“I know your reputation, Prince Alexander. Not going to happen. Not now. Not ever. Got it?”
Now she’s insulting me on top of the punch?
