Page 50 of A Royal Disaster
“Literally everyone,” Natalia replied to the laughter of the family.
Watching Elena and her cousins trade lighthearted jokes was just another reminder that they came from different worlds. Ones that placed a different emphasis on the value of family. He couldn’t imagine his own cousins sharing jokes around the dinner table. Barbs yes, jokes no.
The conversation continued as serving dishes were passed and Elena piled his plate high with seasoned pork and rice, clearly taking Tía Rosa’s comment about making themselves at home to heart. He was surprised when she got up and made plates for Jack and Ethan as well. They didn’t normally eat on the job, but he wouldn’t begrudge them a home-cooked meal, and despite her uncle’s earlier show of concern, he didn’t think there was much risk in the bodyguards taking a short break. They’d managed to ditch the paps back at the hotel, which was a rarity itself, so they might as well enjoy the reprieve while it lasted.
“Everything looks delicious,” Liam said, directing his compliments to the chef. Tía Rosa blushed and told him to eat up before his food got cold. He was happy to oblige, and the meal didn’t disappoint. The pernil was spicy and tender, practically melting on his tongue, and the rice had the kind of bold flavor you didn’t often find in traditional Valerian dishes. Elena explained it was sofrito, a base used in a variety of Puerto Rican dishes. He didn’t know what was in sofrito, but he made a mental note to have the palace chefs find out. Andres might not be willing to give up his empanadilla recipe, but surely the chefs could get their hands on sofrito.
The conversation turned back to Elena’s cooking skills, or lack thereof, but she took the ribbing in stride, admitting it was unlikely she’d ever master the culinary arts.
“I think it’s safe to say your talents lie elsewhere,” Liam agreed, giving her thigh a squeeze under the table. She flashed him a grateful smile as Nia pointed out that one of the benefits of living in the greatest city in the world was food delivery service.
Tía Rosa made the sign of the cross and swore she’d teach the pair of them to cook if it was the last thing she did.
“With Lena in the kitchen, it really might be the last thing you do,” Danny quipped, popping a tostone in his mouth. “Better make sure your insurance policy is up to date.”
Elena balled up her napkin and threw it across the table at him, laughing good-naturedly. “Look who’s talking. At least I never lit the Christmas tree on fire!”
“It was one time,” Danny whined, throwing his arms up in protest. “And I was eight!”
The whole family burst into raucous laughter, and Liam found himself chuckling right along with them, their warmth wrapped around him like a blanket. He couldn’t remember the last time his family had shared a meal like this, or hell, even a joke. Growing up royal had been about decorum and policy and public perception. There hadn’t been much room for love or laughter, and it showed in their strained relationships.
For the first time, Liam wondered if things might have been different. Perhaps if his parents had built their marriage on love and respect instead of political machinations. Maybe if they hadn’t pitted their children against one another, forcing them to compete for scraps of approval. So many maybes. So many what-ifs.
He slammed the door on that line of thinking.
He was the crown prince, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing himself or living in the past. What was done was done. There was no point looking back, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit around overanalyzing the shitty Stanley family dynamics when he had a job to do. He wasn’t the first kid to survive a dysfunctional family and he wouldn’t be the last, but at least his had prepared him to wear the crown.
All he had to do was save it first.
HRH Meets la Familia
Nothing says serious like meeting the family, and we hear MEM whisked HRH out to the Bronx for Sunday dinner. Guys, HRH went to the Bronx. If that’s not love, we don’t know what is. (Seriously. We haven’t set foot outside Manhattan since the great sushi debacle of ’09.)
Sources close to the couple say HRH was the perfect guest, greeting the hostess with flowers and wine (take note, boys…this is how the real men do it). In return, His Royal Hotness got his first taste of homemade Puerto Rican comfort food and the shenanigans of MEM’s overprotective uncle. (There might have been a bat involved, but our source was sketchy on the details.)
Call us crazy, but we think most families would say HRH passes the muster.
Sketchy details aside, HRH must have done all right, because we hear he took home an extra slice of pineapple rum cake at the end of the night. We’re guessing MEM didn’t need an extra dessert, because…HRH. Who needs booze cake when you’ve got the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor to satisfy your late night cravings?
Listen, if we can’t have him, we might as well live vicariously through MEM. Now if we could just get her to return our calls. Or tell us about her sexcapades with HRH. (Hey, a girl can dream, right?)
Naughty bits aside, we think meeting the fam was a big step for the royal hopeful who lost her parents in a car accident a few years back. A tragic story, sure, but if we’ve learned anything from our friends at the mouse house, it’s that all princesses have to overcome adversity to snag their prince, and we figure MEM’s no exception. The real question is whether this princess-wannabe has the lady balls to grab her HEA with both hands or if she’ll be tossed aside like so many of HRH’s past paramours?
Chapter Fifteen
“Any questions?” Lena asked, unease pricking at the back of her neck. She’d just spent twenty minutes covering the basics of clay and doing a pottery demo, but as she scanned the faces in the studio, she had a sneaking suspicion it had been a wasted effort. The positive press had inspired plenty of new students to sign up for Wheel 101, but she wasn’t convinced they were all here for the right reasons.
Not yet anyway.
It was her job to help them fall in love with the art of throwing pottery, and she hoped tonight’s lesson would be a step in that direction—after all, pottery was the new Pilates—but first she had to get them focused.
A hand shot up in the front row.
“Yes?”
“Does Prince William visit the studio often?” the woman asked, her friends tittering as she fluffed her hair.
Lena pasted a smile on her face. “Once in a while,” she admitted, “but his schedule is busy.”
