Page 23 of The Cinderella Prince

“Does your decision have anything to do with the fact that it’s all true?” I asked.

Tristan pulled back ever so slightly, eyes narrowing. “It’s mostly that you talk like a prince.”

“And how is that?” I asked, holding back my smile.

My ally chuckled and took a sip of beer, then wiped the foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand. “You can’t believe I needed to check the information for myself. That’s how it is.”

“Ah, and now we’re on the same page?” I tilted my head.

Tristan nodded firmly.

“I still think you shouldn’t get any more involved, Tristan,” I said, all humor fading out of my voice. This morning, I had seen a stiff-backed womanpass by the bar. She hadn’t looked through the window and peeked inside, but she had walked just the same two days ago. The tight, no-nonsense ponytail, the makeup that defined her face, and the square shoulders told of a lifetime of service. Or I was a paranoid runaway. It was one or the other, but something told me I was being observed. I certainly wouldn’t imagine it was out of Alexander’s range of tactics. “If you help me, there could be considerable blowback.”

Tristan snorted. “This is a free country. What can a foreign king do to me?”

“You underestimate the power of a royal bloodline.” It wasn’t supposed to be self-flattery. I was glad that Tristan didn’t take it that way.

He simply shook his head. “I’m not afraid of your family, no matter how influential they are.”

That’s because you don’t know them, I thought.

“They wouldn’t assassinate me, would they?” Tristan added, the bravado in his voice trembling slightly.

I shook my head. “I don’t imagine they would. But they could make your life hell if they want to. They could pull strings and have all the best culinary schools reject you for some made-up reason, should you ever apply. They could spread some falsehood about you among their friends in New York, and you’d never be allowed a significant loan to open your restaurant because the bankers would consider you risky and unreliable. That’s the kind of influence I’m talking about.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Tristan said mockingly. “I’ll never be invited to a black suit gala. Don’t you see where I live? I’ll never get a big loan regardless of what your father tells some New York banker. And unless they mean to send somegoblin to tie my shoelaces so I trip on my next run, I can’t imagine them doing anything that’ll have significant consequences, Cedric. I’m a small fish.”

“You’re nothing of the sort,” I said before I could stop myself. “Not to me.”

He stopped speaking abruptly and looked at me for a few heartbeats. The heat in my face must have become visible because Tristan smiled and looked at his beer instead. “Still,” he mused, “I don’t think they’ll grudge me for making sure their political asset is safe.”

“Is that what you’re offering?” I asked.

Tristan met my gaze again. He licked his lips. “I don’t know if I can keep you from being kidnapped by your own family—if that’s what they’d do—but I can watch your back while you’re here. And I can help you pass the time when you’re bored.”

It begged the terrible question that had the potential to open too many paths of consequences. “Why?” I asked, voice dry and cracking.

“You’re in my ‘hood,” he said simply, but that wasn’t it at all. He hesitated, tilted his head this way and that, and sighed. “I know, I know. You’re a prince. I can’t wrap my head around it, by the way, but that’s who you are. Still, the person I know is the guy who skipped all the rules of flirting, bought me a drink, and danced with me all night. And…I like you. Simple as that.” He shrugged like he’d said something completely inconsequential.

“I like you, too,” I replied softly. It was odd to say those words to him. To anyone, really. I’d never had a chance to express something as innocent as that. Sure, I’d done my fairshare of hooking up, but it had hardly even been about liking the person the way they were.

I looked at Tristan. His brown hair and strong, defined jawline, and his warm, focused brown eyes. It was too easy to forget about everything else and just gaze at him. His presence calmed me, grounded me, and kept me in the moment instead of letting me roam and lose myself in worry.

My back stiffened. It was also too easy to imagine taking his hand and going somewhere less crowded than the terrace of Neon Nights. I leaned against the back of my chair and drank a little. “To be perfectly honest, having told you everything makes life much easier.”

Tristan nodded. “I’m glad it did. Now, if only I could remember the proper etiquette when I refer to you…”

“Don’t even,” I said, mock horrified. “That’s the very thing I’m trying to avoid.”

Tristan chuckled. He gazed into my eyes for a little while, perhaps a moment too long, before he asked his next question. “Can it be that bad? Aside from marrying an airline, of course.”

“Define bad,” I said. “I’m not going to pretend that never having to work for the sake of survival isn’t a big perk, Tristan. But I’ve lived my entire life publicly. Since I was old enough to look at the lens, my life’s been in the service of upholding our traditions. It’s all stunts. And getting engaged to Élodie is just another performance.”

“You think it’s unavoidable,” Tristan concluded.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I asked. I needed to hear his thoughts, too. Hell, I had no idea what I really believed. Ihoped with all my heart that some part of me expected life to go on just the way it was now.

Tristan shrugged. “I don’t think you mean to stay.” It was a statement, plain and simple, but it carried a hint of melancholy I knew well. “You live in a hotel and work while it’s still fun. I don’t hold that against you. But you’re planning to go back, Cedric. Maybe you were right the other night. Maybe you’re trying to prove a point.”

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