Page 104 of Prince Charmless
“You know there’s no world I can see myself getting sick of you.”
I freeze.
“I catch myself counting down the days, hours until I see you again.”
“And what happens if you don’t get sick of me?” I ask blandly. “Ballgowns? Tiaras?” Cassie was right. Thisisan awkward conversation.
When I turn around, he takes my hands and quiets his voice. “Reading what was said about you brought back all the memories of how the press talked about my mother. Having this be something real would be a complicated shitstorm even if everything works out, actually, especially if everything works out. Would you be okay with that?”
“You really think I could—” I can’t even say it aloud. “Taylor, I’m titleless, non-francophone, and live above a dry cleaner. I believe I’m just as much St. Claire as you are, but am I really the type of girl grandma wants in a—”
Nope. Still can’t do it.
“What they want is someone likable. And you do a whole lot better job of that than I do. Traditional royalists are dwindling. There’s no point in trying to cater to them. That said, they’re a loud and unappeasable bunch, I wouldn’t expect them to stay silent either.”
“I don’t feel very likable right now.”
He shakes his head. “My family has survived scandals much worse. It’ll pass, Melina. It always does. I’ve seen it every time.”
A famous black-and-white photo pops into my head. It’s of a young Charlotte at a party in the eighties. It’s blurry, but she’s clearly laughing in the back of a crowd. On a table in the foreground lies paraphilia for a certain substance the eighties are known for. Yeah. Maybe worse than my lewds.
I rock back and forth on my heels. “So it’s like...actually, really possible?” I can’t even imagine the perspective.
“Actually, really,” he parrots.
“You would hold the umbrella?”
He raises a brow.
“If there’s a shitstorm,” I clarify.
“I’ll do whatever you tell me.”
I try to remember the words my mother told me once. Something about never being able to find someone because I’m not willing to take risks. I look past Taylor out my window to cloudy weather and a misty street.
“I don’t want to care about logistics,” I mutter. Words a web developer should never say. My whole job is creating a means to an end.
“I think you should care about logistics,” he disagrees.
I groan. “For once in my life, can I just make a decision solely based on whether it will make me feel good momentarily?” I wave my arms like a crazy person. “I want to be brash, reckless, not think things through.”
Taylor looks me up and down. He thinks I’ve turned into a monster. And so what if I have?
“Your mom,” I start. “Was she happy?”
The corner of his lip twitches up. “Yeah. Yeah, she was. She should’ve had more life to be happy with.”
“Then I’m not going to let the prospect of a future or the press or those stupid royalists scare me from doing what I want. And since when do you let people tell you what to do?”
“Every day,” he says. “My whole life has been doing what people tell me to do.”
“We both like each other,” I say, like I’m trying to hypnotize him. “It’s unfair this has to be so complicated. Don’t think. Just do.”
He cocks his head. “It is unfair, isn’t it? I mean, I have all this money, what good is it if I don’t get to go trick-or-treating or ravish the woman I want to ravish.”
“Exactly...maybe. Not sure why you mentioned trick-or-treating.”
He rests a hand on my waist. “I want you to be something worthwhile, Melina. Is that what you want from me?”
