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René just laughed.
This was not something I had ever experienced before, and it left me decidedly unsettled. I wasn't sure how to win him over or what to talk to him about or anything.
I was at a loss, so I just sat there and watched him eat. I knew I probably looked like an idiot, but I felt like one, so... Yeah, I was an idiot. Took me almost a hundred and thirty-five years—and one contrary mate—to figure that out.
"How did you find this place?" It seemed kind of out the way. Certainly not something the average tourist could find. It was down a narrow alleyway between two buildings and at the edge of a hidden courtyard.
"I got bored one day and just started walking around." René shrugged. "I was kind of looking for inspiration, so I was checking out the neighborhood. This was right after I moved into the area."
I frowned for a moment as I went over the information I'd read on René's background. "You're a painter, right?"
"I am," René admitted. "I'm no art savant or anything, but I do okay."
"I'd love to see some of your paintings."
I'd buy every single one I could get my hands on if my mate created them. I didn't care how good or bad they were.
René snickered. "Is this your way of asking to come up and see my etchings?"
"Uh...no, but would that work?"
The amusement fell off René's face. "I don't know what kind of condition my loft is in. I probably should have gone straight home to see what kind of damage there is, but I thought getting some food in my gut was a better idea."
"I have some of my guards there now, keeping an eye on the place. No one will mess with it."
It shouldn't have happened in the first place. I'd made sure to send guards with René when he left, keeping him safe, but I had totally spaced sending guards to make sure his loft was safe as well.
This was all my fault.
"I'm really sorry about not sending men to protect your home." I pressed my lips together for a moment as anger and regret warred inside of me. "It won't happen again."
"It's not your responsibility to protect me, Prince Vitali. It's mine."
I squinted as the rage won out and took over. "You are my mate, the only one I will ever have. Of course it's my responsibility."
René sighed before setting his fork down. "Look, I've done just fine without your help for most of my life. I don't need—"
"I'm not trying to take your freedom away from you, René. I just want you safe."
"And I understand that, but you are trying to take my freedom away from me. By placing guards on me. By wanting me to conform to your idea of what a mate should be. By trying to make me your royal consort."
Why was this conversation going so wrong?
"How does being my consort take your freedom away from you?" It was a position anyone would be ecstatic to have.
René pushed his plate away and then folded his arms and leaned them on the table. "Let me ask you something. You attend a lot of social functions, don't you?"
"Yes." I wasn't sure why that was a question. "It's kind of required as the prince of the gryphons in Italy."
"But even then, if you weren't the prince—"
"But I am."
"Okay, hypothetically, if you were not the prince of gryphons, you still come from money. You would still be considered one of the social elite. Am I right?"
"Well, yes." My family had made money for generations, and they had a lot of it. I'd inherited more than my fair share when my father died and I became prince.
"I despise the social elite," René said. "I grew up with them and they are nothing but cruel, money-grubbing bastards. They spend their days trying to take every penny they can from people who really can't afford it and they spend their nights boasting about it. Who has the best yacht, the best sports car, or the best house. Who went on the best vacation and spent the most money and who is screwing whose wife, husband, or sugar baby."
