Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
Michel unrolled the sleeves of his shirt, then rolled them back up past his elbows. Emma didn’t seem to have any objections to his attire the last time they met. There was no reason to fuss over his clothes. Even so, he examined his reflection yet again in his bedroom mirror. White dress shirt open at the collar, pressed gray slacks, and simple black belt. It was his casual attire of choice.
Well, today was an important day. Emma would be at the café for her date with another man. Once she chased him away, Michel wanted to present his best self to her when he convinced her to go out with him next. And how did he plan on doing that? He’d racked his brain for the past two days to come up with a foolproof strategy. But there was no such thing.
He would just be himself and hope that she felt the same connection he felt with her. Under the circumstances, it was only reasonable to pay extra attention to his appearance… but he still felt quite foolish as he turned this way and that in front of the mirror.
“You look immaculate,” Sophie said from the doorway. Her tone and expression didn’t veer from bland professionalism, but Michel knew his royal guard well enough to know when he was being mocked.
“You forgot to add as always, ” Michel drawled, walking toward his dresser.
“How remiss of me.” She bowed her head. “Apologies, Your Highness.”
“What did I do this time?” He glanced sideways at her as he fastened his watch. She never called him Your Highness unless she was annoyed with him.
“Do? What could you possibly have done?” Her impassive demeanor slipped minutely as she stepped into his room. “Come to America without any security? Insist on keeping your identity a secret? Spend every possible minute away from the safety of your hotel suite? I can’t imagine what you could’ve done.”
“I have security,” Michel said evenly, knowing her grumbling came from a place of concern for his well-being. “You’re standing right there. And I didn’t come to America to hide out in my room.”
A low growl came from her direction. Michel wisely ignored it. He wouldn’t dare cross Captain Sophie Bellevue. With her wide eyes and glowing mahogany skin, she was undoubtedly lovely, but he never forgot that she was quite lethal. She might seem slight in stature at one hundred seventy centimeters and less than ten stone, but she was pure muscle, speed, and power. She could take out seven men twice her size in two minutes flat. Yes, he had sufficient security. No, he wouldn’t mess with her.
“I see that you are going out again.” By the time he turned toward her, Sophie was once more the picture of stoic capability.
“Just downstairs to the café,” he said with a twinge of guilt. Being a one-woman security team had to be exhausting. “You should take the day off this Saturday. I have that monstrosity of a report from the finance minister to keep me busy. Maybe I’ll invite Gabriel over. We’ll order room service and stay put all day. You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Gabriel?” Sophie deigned to roll her eyes. “Don’t get me started with that one. Refusing all security. He’s even worse than you.”
“He’s been on his own for years.” Michel reflexively came to his cousin’s defense even though the three of them had been friends since they were children. “No harm has come to him.”
“That’s because he cut all ties with Rouleme. If anyone finds out who he is—”
“No one will,” he interrupted firmly. “Gabriel built a life for himself here that has nothing to do with his birth or station. His past doesn’t matter anymore.”
“His country, family, and”—her voice caught—“friends do not belong in his past.”
Michel belatedly realized that she’d stayed hidden at her post and never once acknowledged Gabriel in the month that they’d been in America. When Gabriel left Rouleme, Michel had been too busy rooting for his cousin—and being envious of him—to feel abandoned, but he hadn’t considered how others felt. He often became so wrapped up in concerns for his country as well as his own burdens that he forgot people around him didn’t have it easy either. It was a failing he needed to endeavor to remedy.
“Sophie.”
The punch came out of nowhere, and it was pure instinct that had him ducking to the left and spinning out of reach. Michel didn’t even see Sophie move until her fist was an inch from his nose. But when she aimed a roundhouse kick to his head, he was ready for her. He blocked her kick with his forearms and swung his fist toward her solar plexus. She evaded his punch with fluid grace and closed up the space between them.
“Merde,” he cursed.
He could see it happening, but there was nothing he could do to avoid being thrown to the floor. He broke his fall with one arm and rolled onto his feet without missing a beat, but Sophie already stood glaring at him with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Did you just let me take you down with osoto gari?” She scoffed. “I would laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic.”
“I admit I’m out of practice,” Michel muttered, slightly winded.
“And that’s why I can’t take Saturday off.”
“Be reasonable, Sophie.”
Her lips pressed into a mutinous line. “I’ll escort you to the café, Your Highness .”
Michel tucked his shirt back into his pants as he followed Sophie out of his room. “I can spend an hour at the café without getting myself kidnapped.”
She didn’t dignify his protest with a response and led the way to the elevator. When they walked out into the lobby, she wordlessly made her way to an armchair beside a lush potted plant. A jerk of her chin told him that he was to sit himself down at his usual table, facing her. Not wanting to aggravate his stubbornly loyal friend any further, he did as he was bid.
Anne brought him his coffee as soon as he settled in his seat. He crossed his leg over his knee and scanned the café. He checked his watch when he found no sign of Emma. He’d grown impatient to see her in the last two days. Not only to see her, but to finally convince her to go on a date with him. All her prior dates seemed to have been set for six o’clock from what he’d gathered. Strange . She’d never been late before.
He chuckled under his breath and opened up his laptop. She wasn’t late for a date with him . She could stand the man up for all he cared. His laughter trailed off, and he pursed his lips. But he would care a great deal if she didn’t show up at all . If she didn’t come tonight, there might never be a next time for them. He would never forgive himself if he’d squandered his chance to get to know her. His stomach twisted with panic.
Michel sipped his coffee as he quieted his mounting unease. She would be here. He’d mastered the art of maintaining an impassive, regal expression no matter what storm brewed inside of him. But under the table, his fingers drummed a restless beat on his knee as his eyes darted to the entrance every time someone walked into the café.
He hoped Sophie wouldn’t notice anything amiss with him, but there was little to no chance of that. She never missed anything. He sighed and met her gaze across the lobby. She raised her eyebrows a couple of millimeters in question. What’s going on? He gave her a minute shake of his head. Nothing. I’m fine .
Emma rushed into the café and skidded to a stop just past the entrance. Her eyes zeroed in on him and widened before they flitted away. He nearly lost his balance uncrossing his legs and wobbled on his chair. By the time he was securely upright, she was approaching a man sitting at a table on the other side of the café.
His heart thudded, heavy and thunderous in his chest, and his breath grew shallow. He’d always thought her lovely, but she was breathtaking tonight. She wore a short-sleeved dusty-rose dress that hugged her torso, then flared out at the waist, ending just above her knees. Her long black hair fell in thick waves down her back and framed her fair, heart-shaped face. His throat worked to swallow. She’d never worn her hair down before. His fingers twitched on the table as he wondered if it felt as silky as it looked.
If her attire on previous occasions conveyed neat and proper, her outfit tonight sang lush and romantic. Who was meant to hear her song? Her date, who was gaping at her with a dim-witted smile? Or me? Michel blew out a shaky breath.
He dragged his eyes away from Emma and focused on his laptop. He should read over his lecture notes for tomorrow. Or review the research his personal assistant had forwarded him re garding the updated agricultural subsidies program. At the very least, he should stop scrutinizing the progress of Emma’s date like a nosy voyeur. Yes, he’d been desperate to see her again, but he would have his chance to look his fill once she chased her date away.
He glanced at his watch. They’d been talking for fifteen minutes. None of her other dates had lasted longer than that. Any minute now, the man was going to stand up, bow, and walk out of the café.
Anne came by to refill his coffee, and they chatted for a few minutes. Emma laughed at something her date said as he pushed a plate of madeleines closer to her. The man had been very attentive to her the entire time, his eyes rarely leaving her. Michel clenched his jaws and read the same PowerPoint slide he’d been reading for the last twenty-seven minutes.
Her date waved down Anne—rather imperiously—and paid for the check. Emma and the man finally stood from their table after close to an hour. Still smiling like a fool, he gestured toward the entrance. She shook her head and said something that made his smile falter. There it is. Michel bit his lips to stop himself from grinning.
At last, Emma sat alone at her table, staring down at her drink. Michel waited for her to raise her head and acknowledge him somehow. But she didn’t. He waited until his smug smile faded away into nothing. Perhaps she’d forgotten about him. After a torturously long ten minutes, he rose from his seat. Well, he would remind her of his existence and make next time happen now.