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I can’t help but laugh at the image of the handsome Alexander as a big ole green ogre.
I’m storing that one away.
“Look, I'm going to level with you,” he begins. “I went into the cupboard because I was having a…a bad moment, should we say. I needed space, a breather. Just for a while. I had no idea I wasn’t alone.”
I study his face and find only honesty—and vulnerability. It takes me by surprise. Long gone is the haughty, teasing, sometimes flirty Alex, replaced by this new, real version.
A version I could actually like.
“Were you feeling anxious?” I ask.
“Less anxious and more frustrated, I suppose. People have certain expectations of my character, and sometimes I find that difficult to take.”
I pull my brows together. “In English?”
“I used to be someone who enjoyed a good party, someone who found it easy to attract women, which I was happy to do, playing the field and having a good time.”
I pretend to be aghast. “No!”
His lips quirk. “I know. It's hard to believe, looking at the shell of a man I am today.”
There’s no denying it. Prince Alexander of Ledonia is super, sizzling, scorching hot. Only now that I allow myself to know it, I can never un-know it.
“You went to the closet to hide from all those expectations that you’re a bad boy partying womanizer?” I ask.
“Nicely put.”
“I try.”
“I was also hiding from the waitress who was hitting on me.”
I huff out a laugh and several guests glance our way.
Alexander smiles at them benignly as though to say “nothing to see here” before he returns his attention to me. “I needed some time out. Just a moment. That’s why I was looking for my meditation app. People have suggested it, and I thought then was as good a moment as any to give it a try. I’ve got a bad habit of talking to myself when I think no one else is around.”
I feel a flash of unexpected comradery with him. “I do that!” I press my lips together. “I'm sorry I messed that up for you.”
“I'm sorry I messed up whatever it was you were doing in the cupboard, too.”
We share a look, each of us understanding a little more about the other. It feels nice. New.
New and dangerous.
“One thing,” he says.
“What?”
“You’re in Malveaux now. It’s a cupboard, not a closet.”
“I’m still an American.” I pause a beat before I say what I should have said all along, but I was so wrapped up in my dislike for him that I didn’t. “I am actually sorry I hit you. I shouldn't have, whatever the excuse.”
“You've got an impressive right hook. Ever thought about going pro?”
I giggle and it ends in a snort. “Do you think I could make it?”
“Heck, yes. I can see it now: the Mighty Princess Madeline the Mauler, coming soon to a ring near you.”
“Maybe you could be my manager?”
