Page 52 of Prince Charmless
Does he know about the plan? What if he doesn’t? What would I say? Hello, soon-to-be-king of this country, I’m standing in your son’s home because we’re about to go on a date together, but not like a real date, more like a quasi-date to help distract the press from writing stories about how your other son’s a gambler.
“I’m here for Taylor,” I end up squeaking out. “Sir,” I add because I think I’m supposed to call him that.
He points behind me.
When Taylor walks into the living room with Alex, I try not to gawk, but my woman’s instincts get the best of me. I didn’t think his suits could look more expensive. This one is shiny and blacker than black. I’ve probably seen pictures of him wearing it before, but the real thing is much better. He’s even wearing a tie! I love me a sexy tie.
Taylor’s eyes widen when he realizes that his father and I are in the same room together. “Dad, what are you doing here?” He sounds a little panicked.
“What’s my son doing in Las Vegas?” he quips back.
“It’ll be okay. I have a plan.”
“I trusted you to figure this out. I didn’t think it would be that hard.”
“Tom isn’t a child anymore, and he’s going to turn into a loose cannon if we don’t let him do what he wants sometimes.” Taylorlooks at me and releases a long breath. “I think everything is going to be just fine,” he says more quietly.
“You think?” his dad mocks.
“I know.”
Taylor marches over and steals the cigarette out of the Prince’s hand. “And Christ, open a window at least. Were you raised in a barn?” He reaches into his father’s jacket and pulls out a pack of Du Maurier’s. “I swear I’m going to put you in a home. You’ll be the King of Shady Acres.”
I scratch the top of Vinnie’s head. This feels like when you’re at a friend’s house and she starts fighting with her parents, and all you can do is awkwardly stand in the corner and pet the family dog. It never ceases to amaze me how people can talk back to their parents without fear. My mother would try to ground me at twenty-nine if I even thought about raising my voice at her. Taylor gives the cigarette to Alex, who I catch taking a puff of its remains before walking into the kitchen.
“I was raised here, actually,” the Crown Prince retorts. “You know, I could kick you two squatters out whenever I want. Best not be mouthy.”
Taylor takes the advice and lets his father walk away without another word.
“It was nice meeting you, Miss Ramirez,” the Prince says in passing.
Alex follows him out of the living room and asks if he needs a car.
“How does your dad know my last name?” I ask Taylor.
He looks as confused as I am. “I have no idea.”
“Weird.”
“I’m sorry if he tried to scare you. He’ll do that when he meets new people.”
Taylor apologizes for his dad, like how my family would apologize for Coco, our feisty chihuahua mix that also liked scaring new people.Rest in peace, Coco.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Taylor gives me a quick up-and-down. In a perfect world, he would say something like, ‘You look nice.’
“Your hair looks bigger.”
I run a hand through my curled locks. “I got extensions recently. Why? Do they look weird?”
“No,” he says quickly. He almost yells it. “You look like the girls in the shampoo commercials.”
Well, yay me. I spent too much time and money at the salon for them to look weird. I try not to splurge too much on vanity, but I’ve always had thinner hair. One time I asked my stylist for The Rachel, but it turned out like The Severus Snape. As luck would have it, I scheduled my appointment two days before the fundraiser.
Well, if he won’t say it, I will. Using my newfound height to aid my confidence, I say, “You look,”hot, devastatingly handsome, drop-dead gorgeous,“nic—”
“I got you something.”
He got me something?
