Page 120 of Prince Charmless
Five minutes pass and I become restless. I open empty drawers, turn on and off Tiffany lamps, and look behind gold curtains. When I hear the rustle of a doorknob, I quickly sit down and give my best I’ve-been-waiting-here-patiently-this-whole-time pose, hands folded, back straight.
Two men emerge from the office. The one I know from before allows me in. The other angry-looking one doesn’t acknowledge my presence, just walks past me like I’m the last thing in the world he wants to deal with.
When I pass the threshold, Prince David stands up from his desk. “Melina,” he greets with a smile as if nothing happened between us. He gestures toward one of the two plush chairs across from him.
The lit fireplace is the most noticeable thing about his office. That and the giant window overlooking the lawn. There’s a mirror on the opposite side of it to reflect the scenery, making the room look bigger than it is. Behind him, there’s another door that leads to who knows where. The place is topped off by a chandelier that isn’t turned on. It’s a rare no-cloud day in St. Claire, and the window provides enough light to fill the room. His desk is a surprising mess of papers and open envelopes. An ashtray sits amongst the abundance of framed pictures shoved to one corner. I’m curious to know what they’re of.
I sit across from him and set my bag on the floor. Even though I’m nervous, I try not to fall into my habit of making myself look meek by crossing my arms or legs. This isn’t a meeting with the principal, and I’m not in trouble.
“Can I be honest with you, sir?”
“Call me David.”
“I think that you talking to me is going to make this whole situation worse.”
He barks out a laugh before his face goes serious. “You weren’t supposed to hear what I said at the party.” David pauses. I think he expects me to say something. I don’t. “Uh, while image plays a factor in a lot of my decisions, it’s not the end-all be-all. I was raised in an environment where it was, and I promised myself it would never be more important than my children’s wellbeing.”
“What about my wellbeing? What if I don’t want to be a part of any of this?” I gesture around me, both my hands outstretched above my head. This building alone makes me feel like I don’t belong. It pushes me into lockers, makes fun of me at lunch.
“I understand, Melina, I really do. At the beginning of my relationship, it often felt like Charlotte was being pitted against my family, and I get how frustrating it can feel. You should know I’ll be on your side. Truly. The last thing I want is to get in the way of things.”
I scoff. “Yeah, because your family stands to benefit from Taylor getting married and producing heirs.”
He looks at a picture on his desk. I covertly lean over to see the black-and-white photo of him and his wife. They look young, early twenties maybe, barely. It was definitely taken before their engagement. Charlotte has a smile plastered on her face, and David admires her like she’s the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Do you remember what my wife’s voice sounds like?”
What an odd question. “No.”
“Most of the public doesn’t. She was glossophobic. Absolutely terrified of public speaking. Her one condition on engagement was that she’d never have to do it. My family didn’t want me to marry a timid girl whose English was shaky. Said it was impossible and she had to address a room at some point.”
“So what did you do?”
“Married her anyway and made enough speeches for both of us. All I’m saying is that I’m willing to make compromises. Yours and my son’s happiness and privacy are something I will and do value. I promise.”
“So this is your fancy way of saying you want me to give this a chance.”
He sways his head from side to side. “I don’t want to feel like I ruined a good thing. And yes, him finally being interested in someone has given all of us a bit of hope.”
“It’s hard to believe I could be a good thing when all those articles seemed to think I am the opposite. I’m a walking scandal. And they’re going to find out about my father at some point. I’ve just been waiting for it to happen.”
His eyelids lower. “Taylor should be telling you not to read those.”
He does. I don’t listen.
“You’re actually the opposite of scandal. No one knows anything about you.”
Finally, I cross my arms. “It doesn’t feel like it,” I say softly.
“I will admit, the situation with your father will create a PR nightmare, but my mother could’ve saved lots of breath in convincing me not to be with Charlotte.”
He’s right. Why am I letting a mistake my father made be a factor in my own decision-making?
“It’s just, I don’t know if I want all of this. Or will be any good at it. I didn’t even know what I was getting into. It all happened so fast. You never think the problem in your love life is going to involve the royal family. I mean, me, Princess of St. Claire. The whole idea is ridiculous.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks when I realize I’m rambling. That’s the first time I’ve said the P word out loud.
He smiles a bit. “I should confess something, in light of being honest with each other.”
