Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LEO
Leo stormed down the castle hallway, mood as black as the night sky.
Sal had texted him late last night with a string of questions about Emma, none of which had real answers.
He shouldn’t be bothered by the fact that Emma left the library without so much as a hello. She was perfectly free to do whatever she wanted. She didn’t owe him anything. But even an acquaintance whose name he barely knew would greet him on sight.
Maybe it was an American thing. Or maybe she had seen that paparazzi article and shied away.
The night before, there had been an undeniable connection between them. It couldn’t have been one-sided. Had he really misread the situation?
Maybe it was for the best. She lived on a different continent. While his brother was the king of one-night stands, Leo struggled to separate feelings from physicality. It was better to focus on his project.
The end of the year was approaching, and the presentation he was preparing was proving to be challenging.
He had to find a way to stroke his parents’ egos to get their approval. Perhaps he could name the new complex after them? Maybe a statue of them in the community garden? Would it be enough?
He froze outside the door to the kitchen. That was Emma’s voice beyond the door. What was she saying? He leaned closer.
“For the last time, it was not a date,” Emma said.
“Uh-huh,” an unfamiliar female voice said on the phone.
“I asked him to come in to eat with me after the paparazzi chased us, and he said no. He’s not into me. And even if he was, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Leo jerked back. His heart beat in his ears.
“I disagree,” said the other voice. “You can bone his brains out and let your boring married friend live vicariously through you.”
He pressed his lips together and suppressed a laugh.
He should leave. This was a private conversation. But he leaned closer.
“Whoa. First of all, I can’t afford to be thrown in a foreign dungeon for sexually harassing a prince. And second of all, I don’t have time to worry about romance.”
“Not even a week-long fling? For me?”
“Do I need to explain consent to you again, Lo?”
“No, no. Fine. But if anything happens, you have to tell me immediately. Im-mee-dee-at-lee. Am I clear?”
“In the statistically impossible situation where I fall in love with a prince, abandon my disabled mother, and move to a foreign country, you’ll be the first to know.”
“How is your mom?” the other voice asked. Her tone had lost its playfulness.
“She claims to be fine, but she totally unplugged one of the nanny cams. If it happens again—”
“It won’t,” the caller said firmly. “And the first one wasn’t your fault either. If anything, it was Maya’s fault.”
Emma breathed a deep sigh, like something that burbled up from the depths of her toes. “I have to go. If I don’t impress the hell out of the queen tomorrow morning, I may never get the second half of the money, and I’ll be right back to square one.”
“Go do what you do best. Love you.”
“Love you,” Emma replied.
Leo paused. She seemed to be taking deep breaths on the other side of the door. He could practically feel her tension. He wanted to see her, to comfort her. But he hadn’t gleaned much from her conversation with her friend—only that she wasn’t looking to fall in love.
Which was good. Because he wasn’t either. There was no time for romance when women and children were forced to flee to ramshackle shelters with poor water pressure and half-broken furniture.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to help her. Abruptly making up his mind, he pushed the door open.
Emma shrieked and grabbed the object nearest her—a baking sheet. She wielded it like a shield for a moment before recognizing him. It clattered to the island.
“Do you always greet people this way?” he asked.
“Only when they sneak up on me.”
A scatter of papers surrounded her. Hairs were escaping from her bun, and there was a frown line etched between her eyebrows.
“Is it really sneaking if I’m entering my own kitchen?”
She shot him a dirty look.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“What? Oh. Yes. I’m just working on something for tomorrow.”
“You sound stressed.”
“Stressed? Me? No, I’m only preparing a dessert that will decide my entire future.” The tension in her voice was palpable, and it tugged at his heart.
Coming around the island to where she stood, Leo gently took both of her arms and jostled her until she looked at him.
“Everything’s going to be fine.”
She stared at him, tears forming. He stroked her cheek, and something changed in her eyes.
“Let’s take a dinosaur breath, then you can tell me about it.”
She stopped and looked confused. “A dinosaur breath?”
Idiot.
“Sorry. That was something I used to do with Ruby when she was upset.”
The corners of her mouth twitched, and she obediently took a deep breath.
“Is this your idea or your boss’s?” he asked when she looked a little calmer.
She scoffed, then briefly clamped her mouth shut. “It’s mine.”
He nodded. It was better that she wasn’t wasting energy on what was sure to miss the mark.
“I could use a laugh. What did your boss come up with?”
The tension in her shoulders disappeared, and a smile appeared. “A ten-layer cake, which would collapse under its own weight and require us to find customized pans. A map of Lynoria made out of brownies. And an eight-foot macaron tower in the likeness of your brother.”
Leo chuckled and then covered the sound with a cough. “Well. Those are all certainly ideas. Now tell me about yours.”
She bit her lip. “It’s insane.”
“The best ideas usually are.”
“Okay, so your mom is all about reminding everyone that the monarchy exists, right?”
He nodded.
She pulled a piece of paper out of her stack and showed him a drawing dusted with flour.
“I want to capture the festive spirit and make a model of the castle and grounds out of gingerbread. All the landscape will be edible—macarons and tarts and cookies and Lynorian candies. A croquembouche tower for the Christmas tree in the courtyard.”
He could picture it in his mind’s eye.
“I think it’s amazing. She’d love it—in her own way. So what’s the problem?”
She threw her hands up. The stress was back in her eyes. “I’m not a damn architect, that’s the problem. I don’t have any idea how to go about breaking down the castle architecture into something even remotely replicable.”
“I know someone who can help with that.”
“Do they accept payment in gingerbread, by chance?”
“My mother didn’t set a budget. This consult falls under the budget purview.”
She perked up. “Really?”
“Definitely. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
Emma threw herself on him.
He went rigid for a moment, while his nose filled with the scent of rose hips and vanilla.
She pulled back to look at him. “Thank you so much. Oh, shit.” Her expression changed, and she leapt back.
“I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t be hugging you.
That’s a thing, right? Don’t touch a royal unless they touch you first? I read it on Wikipedia.”
Leo raised his arms to his side. “Consider this blanket, state-sanctioned permission to touch me.”
Whoops. That sounded more sexual than he meant it. Or was it?
She smiled, and her gaze dipped for a second. Was she imagining touching him? He hardened at the thought.
Emma was beautiful in the muted light of the kitchen. His earlier annoyances were almost forgotten. Almost.
“You ignored me in the library today,” he accused, leaning against the kitchen island.
She seemed to debate silently for a minute, then busied herself by shuffling papers into a neat stack. “I did. I was annoyed that you turned me down for dinner last night. So was Cooper.”
Aha. So she was annoyed.
“I’ll make it up to you. Let me plan something.”
She grunted and turned back to the sheet of gingerbread in front of her, and her shoulders tensed. “I don’t have time. This project is going to be my entire life for the next week.”
He frowned. That wasn’t exactly a yes. But now wasn’t the right time to press her.
“Why don’t you just make a super-simplified version for now? She’ll get the idea and get to taste it.”
She nodded, then her gaze snapped up to his. “I don’t know how I’m going to sneak this in tomorrow. Maya doesn’t exactly know that I’m coming in with my own idea.”
“I’ll take care of it. The maids will help. What’s the deal with you two, anyway?” he asked.
Emma bit her lip. “I realize this is all going to sound extremely ungrateful.”
He lowered his voice. “I promise you will never sound more ungrateful than the king-to-be.”
It was true. John was probably the only person to ever complain about receiving a Bentley on his birthday.
“Go on,” Leo encouraged.
“So when I was about to graduate from the Institute of Culinary Education, we had a senior showcase to show off our skills. I made entremets, and Maya attended the show. She wooed me and offered a job at Crumb and Get It, which was just starting to make its mark on the map. I accepted and neglected to read the employment contract thoroughly.”
Leo frowned. He didn’t like where this was going.
“It turns out the head baker had left, presumably because Maya is a nightmare who does nothing. Maya went to the senior showcase to find someone with talent who she could criminally underpay and take credit for all their ideas. She also trapped me with an ironclad noncompete. So I’ve been saving every possible cent while running the whole business.
I do the baking, the ordering, the marketing.
I even do onboarding for new hires and meet with the accountant. ”
She turned to look out the window. “In a way, I should probably thank her. I have all the tools and knowledge to start my own business now. That’s why this trip is so life-changing for me.
It’ll put me two years ahead of my plan.
If I wow your mom and take home the second half of the money, I can quit on New Year’s Eve, then ride out the noncompete period freelancing in social media before starting my own business. At least, that’s the plan.”
Leo considered this in silence. “You’ve been doing all this and taking care of your mom?”
She turned back to him. “Yeah. Her disability payments aren’t enough for groceries, let alone skilled care. I have to pay for a nurse while I’m at work, and then I take care of her at night. She’s my mom, you know? It’s hard, but she’s worth it.”
She might as well have thrust a five-kilo bag of flour directly into his gut.
This was insane. Good people didn’t deserve to struggle like this. Emma and her mother were exactly the kind of people they could be helping here in Lynoria.
What could he even say to soothe her? Empty platitudes?
“I can’t believe you’ve been shouldering this burden all on your own. You must be exhausted.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away.
“It’s fine. It’ll all work out eventually. But not if I don’t pull off this dessert.”
He took her hand. “I’ll help you. In any way I can.”
He meant it. If he had to fly to New York and hide envelopes full of cash in her bushes twice a month, he would do it. There was a very palpable sense that Emma hadn’t had anyone to take care of her in a very long time.
“Thank you.”
As they stared at one another, time seemed to stretch and flex, simultaneously moving at lightning speed yet as slow as January.
He took a step closer. They were practically toe-to-toe. She looked up at him. He towered over her.
He had a deep urge to kiss her, to take her in his arms and hold her until they found a way to solve all her problems.
But he barely knew her. She didn’t live here, and she would leave the country in a week. What was he thinking?
She was so remarkable. Funny, resilient, driven. Delightfully uncouth and relaxed around him. It was unlike any interaction he’d ever had with a woman. They were always on their best behavior around him, but Emma couldn’t be bothered with formalities. She didn’t care who his family was.
He lifted his free hand and gently touched her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, her eyes clear and wide. Beckoning to him. Kindling something within him.
He leaned down and was a second away from kissing her when the door to the kitchen opened.
They sprang apart. Was it his mom? But no, it was just Flossie, one of the house managers.
“Oh,” Flossie said, stopping in her tracks. A swift curtsy followed. “Your Highness. Pardon the intrusion. I was just fetching a glass of sherry for Her Majesty.”
Emma’s cheeks flushed, and her posture went rigid.
“You’re not intruding, Flossie,” he said. “I was just chatting with Miss Clark about the ball.”
“Of course,” Flossie said, fetching a bottle and a glass.
The servants were notorious gossips. Even though nothing had actually happened, news of this encounter would be all over the castle by the morning. It figured.
An awkward silence ensued, which was thankfully interrupted by Emma.
“Thank you so much for the advice,” Emma said. “And for the listening ear.”
“It was my pleasure. You’re meeting with my mother tomorrow?”
“Yes, in the drawing room at ten.”
Leo nodded. “It’ll be great. Just leave your gingerbread on a shelf in the pantry. I’ll arrange for one of the maids to bring it in.”
He would be there. And he would make sure his mother picked Emma’s idea. If it pissed off her boss, even better.