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Wolfgang’s eyes widened, and he looked to me. “Did I do something?”
I didn’t even have the energy to speak. So, I took a seat on the couch. I leaned back, closing my eyes. Was there any way to repeat this morning? How did everything turn into such a colossal mess?
“Gale? Gale?”
Frowning, I opened my eyes again and saw I was still holding the phone. Arthur was still on the line?
“Thank you for making this morning worse, Arthur,” I snapped into the phone.
“Did you not go after her?”
“Go after her? She did not look like she wanted me to go after her.”
I could hear him sigh through the phone. “Over the years, I have heard an onslaught of rumors of how romantic you are. That, of the two of us, you were the most charming when it came to women. Here I thought this would be a breeze for you, but apparently, you have no clue how to sweep a woman off her feet. They have just been falling before you because you are a prince.”
I pulled the phone from my ear, biting my cheek to keep from cursing to high heaven and back. “I have to go, Arthur!” I snapped, hanging up and tossing the phone as far away from me as possible.
“What do I do with breakfast, Your Highness?” Iskandar asked coldly.
“Throw it out the window! Set it on fire! I no longer care!”
“I think we best avoid any more fire. Ms. Wyntor seems to be at the end of her patience with you—”
I grabbed the couch pillow and threw it at his head. He dodged it and walked to Wolfgang. I laid my head back, and I closed my eyes. I just got here. Give me a damn break!
I stayed there pouting for a few moments before finally sitting my ass back up. Last night, she had warned me this would not be easy. It was not my cause, but I was not giving up. Getting my phone, I searched, What are the most romantic things to do in Seattle?
“Iskandar, what do you think of these?”
“I am not in a place to give you advice,” he said automatically.
I looked up to find Iskandar peering over my hands as he put the breakfast, the tomato cobbler with cornmeal-cheddar biscuits—the meal I had utterly failed to make—down in front of me.
“I am making it your place. What do you think?”
He frowned before replying, “Would it not be better to do something she would enjoy?”
“Would she not enjoy romantic things?” I asked back.
“There is a chance she could have done it already. After all, she has lived here almost all of her life. It would be better to do something she really enjoys and may not mind doing again,” he explained.
He had a point...again.
“Since when did you become an expert in romance?” I snickered, lifting my fork.
“Never, but it seems the expert is off his game if he has to ask for my opinion.”
I cracked my jaw to the side. “The rumors that go around about me seem to be getting out of hand. First, my brother, and now you. I am not that bad.”
He shrugged. “We do not get to choose our nicknames.”
Wait. “What is my nickname?”
“She is a fan of music, correct? Why not see if she will go to some concert with you?” he asked, clearly avoiding my question as he walked back into the kitchen.
Fine.
Whatever.
