“Could we have the room for a few minutes?”
“Of course.” Agnes rose and walked towards them, patted her brother’s arm, gave Gen a wink, and walked out.
Gabriel nodded towards the sofa again, and led them over to it, not letting go of her arm even after they sat down. He simply shifted his hand to hold her hand instead.
“What’s wrong?”
She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand back, and was slightly surprised he let go. “Are you really so dense? You maneuver me into the palace, into a position I don’t want, and you’re wondering why I want to leave? I don’t want any of this. I don’t want this kind of life, and I don’t want this job, and I don’t appreciate being forced into yet one more thing I don’t want simply because of the whims of others.”
Did she sound whiny or ungrateful? Maybe, but if a man had said those things, their opinion would just be respected.
“I’m sorry.”
She was so busy fuming she wasn’t sure she heard him. “Pardon?”
“I’m sorry. I apologize. You’re completely right. However, I had only good intentions.”
“My mother also has good intentions. ‘Good’ is a subjective term and your definition does not match my definition.”
“That’s a fair point.”
She huffed a laugh. “Gee, thanks. May I leave now?”
“No, please. I thought we’d made progress the other day, in your bedroom.”
Her eyes widened and flitted to the door, then back to him. “Why are you bringing that up? If someone overheard…”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to start anything or put you in an awkward position. I simply meant that I thought we were on the same page. Otherwise, why else did you come today?”
“Are you serious? You think my mother would have let me decline an invitation for tea with Princess Agnes? I didn’t have a choice. As usual.”
He sighed and, in a move very uncharacteristic of a prince, leaned back against the sofa, ruining his perfect posture, his head tilted up to stare at the ceiling. “I just keep fucking up with you, don’t I?”
She blinked. Had she just heard him curse? “Yes, you do.”
He barked a laugh, which turned into a full-throated belly laugh. He put a hand to his stomach and, in the midst of the laugh, bent at the waist, his body shifted, and his head ended up in her lap.
“Would you get off of me?” She glanced at the door again.
“In a minute.” He was staring at her now from what must be a very unflattering angle. Had she plucked all her chin hairs this morning? She couldn’t recall, but so what if he saw them?
She sighed and leaned back against the sofa, crossing her arms in the process. Would that make her boobs less visible from his angle? Probably not.
“Other than my position, and your potential position if you married me, what don’t you like?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re really asking me.”
“I’m asking what you don’t like aboutme, other than my position.”
“I don’t know you.”
His eyes were intense but his voice was soft. “Yes, you do, Genevieve. You know me.”
She wanted to shift her seat a bit, but she couldn’t move with his head in her lap, so she put up with the discomforting truth in his words. “I know some things,” she conceded. “But that doesn’t mean I knowyou. We’d probably end up hating each after a week and need a divorce, and how would that look for the royal family?”
“If I married you, I’d never divorce you.”
“Wow. Already making threats too. I told you we wouldn’t suit each other.”
