Page 13 of Fake Dating the Prince

She chuckled. “I see that. I hear Celine has a new background check to run.” She crossed her legs in a way that indicated to Flip she didn’t intend to stand for some time.

He turned away from the desk and faced her. As usual, her expression betrayed nothing—not to a casual observer. But she was Flip’s mother, and he knew her better than almost anyone. The slightest curve of her mouth, that was hope. The single line on her forehead, easily mistaken for a wrinkle if you didn’t know better, that was tension. She worried too much.

“She’s already run it, as I’m sure you know.” And Brayden was as squeaky clean as anyone could wish for. “You’ll meet him tomorrow, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’mworriedthat my only son has a new man in his life and didn’t tell his mother.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Flip’s dad entered the library from the back door, clad in a kurta pajama and his usual house slippers. “When do I get to give the shovel speech? I’ve been practicing.” He put on an exaggerated Southern US drawl. “You treat my son with respect and have him home by ten—”

“Irfan,” his mother admonished, but her voice was warm. It seemed to serve more as an invitation. Flip’s dad crossed the library to press a kiss to her cheek, sit beside her, and take her hand.

“You’re right, we wouldn’t want to cramp his style. ‘Make sure you feed him breakfast before you send him on his walk of shame’—is that better?”

Flip groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Hey, I have your back.”

“I know that. But seriously, there’s a reason I haven’t introduced him.”

“Why, is he hideous?” Irfan addressed this question to his wife. “I know we’re an intimidatingly good-looking family—” He cut off and made gestures to indicate her face, her figure, et cetera. Flip loved his dad.

“Irfan.” She was laughing outright. “Stop. I want to hear his explanation.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, I saw his new man’s photograph.”

Oh boy. “It’s just a date,” Flip said helplessly. He meant to tell more of the truth, that it was just a favor, that Brayden was in Lyngria on vacation for a few weeks and that nothing would come of it, but it got stuck on his tongue. “He didn’t even know who I was when I asked him to come.”

“Oh, so you’re ashamed of us,” his dad began, mock indignant.

But Flip couldn’t take any more. He didn’t know why it should bother him that his parents were excited to meet his date—why he didn’t want to tell them it was nothing more than a convenient arrangement—but he didn’t want to lie more than he had to. “Dad,” Flip pleaded.

Irfan sobered. “All right. But you don’t have to hide him from us, you know. No one is upset you’re not marrying Prince Harry or whomever.”

“Remember when you used to date that Belgian duke’s son—what was his name?”

“Armand,” Irfan supplied with a shudder. “I don’t think I ever saw him crack a smile.”

“He smiled,” Flip said defensively, though it truthfully hadn’t been very often. Armand had been a poor match in that regard, not that many people could keep pace with his father’s sense of humor.

“Or that executive from Toronto you brought home a few years ago. He was nice enough, but—what’s the phrase—he was dull as a post?”

“It’s dumb as a post, dear.”

“No, I mean he was boring. I thought I was going to have to learn to sleep with my eyes open.”

Irfan had never missed a single beat during a state dinner, which Flip knew because they’d discussed at length how important it was to be engaged and informed, especially because certain factions would be hypercritical of them regardless. Trevor really was fairly boring, though.

“Can we be done dissecting my love life?” Flip pleaded. “You can meet Brayden tomorrow. But no shovel talk. We’re taking it slow.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” his mother said, and though her tone was warm, Flip could have sworn it held a hint of disappointment. She stood, patting her husband’s leg as she did, and crossed to the desk to kiss the top of Flip’s head again. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. I won’t have you begging off dances because you’re tired. You don’t want to fall asleep on your date.”

In fairness, Brayden had probably already seen him asleep with his mouth open on one of their transatlantic flights together. But still. “That would be rude of me.”

Irfan stood too and squeezed Flip’s shoulder. He waited until Mom was gone and then for Flip to meet his eyes. “Whatever happens with this boy, your mother and I just want you to be happy.”

Flip’s throat tightened. “Thanks, Dad.”

Then he was left alone.

He had a feeling sleep could prove elusive tonight.

---