Page 97 of The Prince Who Loved Me

The ding of Sebastien’s phone was barely audible over the strains of the orchestra playing in the ballroom of his ancestral home. He stifled a groan. This had to be the fifth one today. Whoever signed him up on the dating site was playing a cruel joke. He’d tried to delete the profile, but since the confirmation wasn’t going to his email, he had no control. And with the time difference, he hadn’t been able to connect with customer support.

He deleted the notice without looking.

Now, if it had been from Brandi, there would have been no question about answering. Sebastien itched to call, to text, to listen to Brandi’s outgoing message just to hear her voice. Here he was, surrounded by his family and willing sycophants, wearing designer clothes and a small gold and purple crown, sipping a glass of five-hundred-dollar champagne. And he’d give it all up to put on a pair of jeans and have a mason jar of Belle’s Medicinal Brew with the woman he loved.

He weaved his way through the crowded ballroom, stopping to greet members of the court and smile over useless trivialities until he escaped. The quiet corner gave him large pieces of furniture to hide behind, underneath a fresco of angels flying over the countryside. Hearing the mixture of Italian and French that made up Casagnes’s language took some getting used to after years of American English.

“OncleSebastien!” His niece Lorenza, at eighteen, was old enough to join royal parties. In fact, the celebration was for her birthday. And yet, she was filling the space he tried to claim. The girl came up to his shoulder and looked just like her mom with her large brown eyes and dark hair that never lay flat. “You’re going to give my hiding place away. You must leave.”

“But the party is for you,topolina,” Sebastien said. “You must go out and start building relations with your future subjects.”

The girl narrowed his eyes. “When I’m Queen, you’ll have to do everything I say. You might as well start now.”

Brat. Sebastien stifled a smile, thinking back to the demands his father had made while Sebastien had been planning his return to Brandi. “Ask yourgrandpèrehow well that’s going.”

Lorenza straightened her shoulders and scowled, but then sighed and leaned against the wall. “I don’t know anyone here.”

“Yeah, me neither.” He took pity on the kid. “What do you say we go out together?”

“Mama says I have to dance. I don’t want to.”

“No. Don’t dance.” Sebastien wasn’t even kidding with this one. “Regardless of who you choose, everyone will speculate if your teenage crush will become your true love. You’ll ruin his life.” Sebastien snuck a quick glance around a column. “See the woman in the sparkling blue dress? She’s standing near the piano.”

“Yes.”

His phone beeped again. He had half a mind to give it to Loïc for the evening. But if Brandi called, he wanted to be ready.

“You’re not supposed to have your phone out,” Lorenza chided him.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He shoved it back in his pocket.“That woman. I danced with her once when I was nineteen. It took her years to resume her normal life. Unless…”

Lorenza perked up. “Unless?”

“Commit to dancing with at least five different people. That way there will too many for anyone to make predictions.”

“Five?”

“Ten would be even better.”

She regarded him with a solemn face. “No offense,Oncle, but I don’t think I’ll choose you as one of my advisors.”

“Probably a wise choice.”

The princess glided off. Sebastien leaned against the wall, feeling sorry for the poor kid. Second-in-line to the throne wasn’t an easy burden to bear, regardless of how old you were.

Massimo approached and stood a respectful distance away, waiting to be recognized. Sebastien shot him a glare. His bodyman handed him an envelope, then bowed and walked away.

His name was printed on the front with the Your Blind Date emblem. He blinked at it. What, they were upset he wasn’t answering texts so they had a letter hand delivered? That didn’t make any sense.

He went to shove it in his pocket, but decided to open it. At least it was a good excuse to leave the party. And he could have an outlet for all the restless energy coursing through him.

The entry hall was filled with guests, so he swung left to the receiving room and opened the envelope.

Dear Prince Charming.

He rolled his eyes. Whoever hijacked his account had picked a great username. And women were still trying to get set up with him?

He scanned the contents. One woman in particular, thought this needed personal attention. She’s active, runs a business, doesn’t appreciate art but is learning, and can make amean glass of whiskey.