Chapter Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Here’s the game plan,” Emma said on their drive over to her godmother’s place. “Jeremy is infuriating at times but undeniably charming. His fiancé, Steven, is supposed to be an absolute sweetheart according to my infuriating but charming godbrother. So they’ll be double-teaming to charm the hell out of Auntie Soo.”
“Mm-hmm.” Michel nodded so he appeared to be paying full attention to the words coming out of her mouth—instead of remembering how that mouth had been wrapped around his cock just an hour ago. “I see.”
“All we have to do is deflect most of the attention to them and quietly coast through dinner.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. “Michel, are you listening?”
“Absolutely.” He pinched his chin and pursed his lips to show how invested he was in the game plan. Sophie scoffed in the driver’s seat. He ignored her.
Emma’s makeup was immaculate, and there wasn’t a single strand of hair out of place. She did not look like a woman who’d been thoroughly ravished three times in the course of one afternoon. She presented this perfectly put-together version of herself to the rest of the world, but he got to see her completely undone. He loved that.
“I can barely see any brown left in your eyes.” She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “You’re either very turned on by our game plan or your mind is elsewhere.”
“The game plan is extremely scintillating.” He trailed the tip of his nose down her cheek and breathed in her intoxicating scent where her neck curved into her shoulders. When she shivered, he met her gaze with a cocky grin. “And don’t worry. I’m well versed in dealing with even the most difficult people with utmost diplomacy. I doubt your godmother is an exception.”
“Oh, you poor, poor man.” Emma shook her head with a sad pout. God, he wanted to kiss that pouty mouth of hers. But he’d promised not to ruin her makeup. “My godmother will eat you alive if you don’t go in prepared.”
His royal bodyguard covered her laugh with a cough. She and Emma shared a grin through the rearview mirror.
“You have my attention.” He felt a frisson of alarm run down his spine. “What should I do?”
“Auntie Soo is shrewd and doesn’t miss a thing, but there are two ways you could soften her up,” Emma said, all business. “One, she’s a Korean mom, which means she loves feeding people, so make sure you eat well. No nibbling. Full plates and big bites.”
“I can do that.” He was starving, actually. He’d ordered room service for their lunch, but they got too distracted to eat much of it. And they had expended quite a bit of energy in their non-lunch-related activities.
“Two, my godmother loves me. Whenever you feel cornered, change the subject to wax poetic about my many virtues.”
“That also won’t be difficult. Gabriel will be the first to tell you how very accomplished I am at singing your praises. Although…” He arched an eyebrow and lowered his voice. “I’m not sure virtuous is the adjective I would use to describe you.”
Her dimple flashed with wicked depth by her mouth. “I doubt you’ll earn many points from Auntie Soo by listing all the ways I’m a bad, bad girl.”
His blood rushed south fast enough to make him dizzy. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“What?” She widened her eyes. “Am I being naughty?”
“Please have mercy,” he groaned.
“That’s what you get for not paying attention.” She smirked. “This game plan is the only way we’ll survive the night.”
“What about your father?” he said with a resigned sigh. “How does he fit into the game plan?”
“My dad…” Her smile turned a shade crestfallen. “He’s a sweet, kind man. Just be yourself with him. He’ll like you no matter what.”
“He will?” Michel couldn’t hide his surprise.
“I told him you were good to me.” Her voice grew husky. “That’s all that matters to him.”
“He sounds like a good man.” He ran his knuckles down the side of her cheek.
“He is.” She leaned into his touch, covering his hand with her own. “I’m so lucky to be his daughter.”
“I’m sure he feels just as lucky to be your father.” Something hitched in his chest. Emma and her father seemed so close… like they were essential to each other’s lives.
Before he could parse out his emotions, Sophie parked next to the sidewalk of a tidy residential area with rows of quaint, two-story houses. He didn’t know which one belonged to Emma’s godmother, but it was probably across the street, a few houses down. His royal guard would want a good line of vision to the house, while remaining discreetly out of sight.
As Michel reached for the door handle, Emma tugged on his arm and said in a rush, “I think it goes without saying that we won’t mention that you’re a prince.”
He stiffened in his seat. They hadn’t talked much about his revelation. In some ways, he’d wanted to move past it and go back to the way things had been between them—effortless and wonderful. But he realized Emma had been awfully quiet about it as well. Why was that? Did she care so little about his title? Or was she avoiding the topic because it bothered her more than she let on? He abruptly heaved himself out of the car, needing to get some air.
“Michel?” A frown drew twin ridges between her eyebrows.
“Of course,” he forced himself to answer, not quite meeting her eyes. He shook himself out of his momentary panic. “I’ll be your average USC professor tonight.”
“There’s nothing average about being a professor at a prestigious university.” She dimpled at him and followed him out of the car.
“Enjoy your evening,” Sophie said with an encouraging smile, standing by the driver’s side door.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for dinner?” Emma asked for the third time since Sophie declined to join them.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Her eyebrow quirked in indulgent amusement. “It would seem odd to bring his friend to a family dinner.”
Sophie made a valid point. They had already introduced her to Jeremy as Michel’s friend. It would complicate things to explain her presence tonight.
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Michel nodded to his royal guard and took Emma’s hand. “Shall we?”
“Wait.” Sophie flagged him down before they crossed the street, holding out an elegantly wrapped box. Emma had helped him pick out the gift—a Korean red ginseng set. She assured him that it would help him make a good first impression. His friend clucked her tongue at him as he accepted the box. “I can’t believe you almost forgot the hostess present.”
Michel grimaced. That would’ve been a huge faux pas, especially when you were visiting your girlfriend’s godmother for the first time. Girlfriend . The term felt too frivolous for what Emma meant to him. Then what would be the right word to describe her? He tucked away the thought to revisit later. He needed all his focus to win over Emma’s family tonight.
“Thank you, Sophie,” he said, taking the box from his friend.
“Good luck, Your Highness,” she said in a low voice. “Sounds like you’ll need it.”
After waving goodbye to Sophie, Emma led the way toward her godmother’s house, a dove-gray Craftsman home with black trimmings and a small but immaculate front yard. But instead of heading for the front door, she headed to the side gate.
When Michel glanced quizzically at her, she explained with a smile, “You’re in for a treat, Professor Chevalier. We’re having a Southern California backyard party. Another first for you, I’m sure.”
His blood heated at her playful use of Professor Chevalier, but his curiosity was piqued. “What distinguishes a Southern California backyard party from those of another region?”
“The food, of course.”
Before Emma could elaborate, a handsome woman who looked to be in her late forties approached them with her arms spread wide. “Emma, my dear.”
“Hi, Imo.” She hugged the older woman warmly before stepping back. “Michel, say hello to my godmother, Soohee Kang.”
“Your godmother?” His eyebrows rose into his hairline. “You’re Jeremy’s mother ? You look like you could be his sister.”
The esteemed Soohee Kang snorted and rolled her eyes, but she smiled broadly at him. “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, young man.”
“I apologize for hollering at you. I didn’t mean to blurt that out like that.” Michel placed a hand to his chest and cast a bewildered glance at Emma. “But I am genuinely astounded.”
“Auntie Soo doesn’t look anywhere near her age.” She laughed at his side. “Imo, Michel isn’t capable of false flattery.”
“Well then.” Her godmother patted her perfectly coiffed bob.
Emma nudged him with an elbow and pointedly eyed the box in his hands. Christ . He’d forgotten again. He cleared his throat and held out his gift to their hostess. “Thank you so much for having me, Ms. Kang.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have. This is just a casual dinner with family and friends.” She promptly relieved him of the gift box. “And call me Auntie Soo. There’s no need to stand on ceremony.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders as she hurried away to oversee their dinner. The cozy backyard had a grassy section with a picnic table and a larger paved sitting area shaded by a redwood pergola. String lights zigzagged above the backyard, connected to a long awning covering the patio at the side of the house. The lights would look lovely when the sun set and the evening settled in.
Auntie Soo spoke with a young man with broad shoulders and a trim beard. He stood over a portable grill set up on the patio, wearing a white apron around his waist. Three different piles of chopped meat sizzled on the steaming grill. Michel breathed in the air. Whatever it was, the backyard was filled with the delicious smell of food.
“Look at you,” Emma said, dusting imaginary lint off his shoulder. “You’ve charmed your way right into Auntie Soo’s heart.”
“I have?” When he turned his surprised gaze to her upturned face, he forgot everything but how beautiful she looked in the light of the setting sun. He leaned down toward her, and her eyes fluttered closed.
“There you are, baby girl.” The cheerful greeting had Michel jerking away from Emma.
A handsome gentleman in a cream polo shirt tucked into a pair of khakis strolled over to them with an openly curious glance at Michel. He had kind eyes that reminded him of Emma.
“Appa.” Emma blushed, taking half a step away from Michel. “Um, hi. This is Michel Chevalier. Michel, this is my dad, Jaewon Yoon.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Michel.” Her father held out his hand with a warm smile. Thankfully, he showed no signs of displeasure at their almost kiss.
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Michel took her father’s hand in both of his and bowed from his waist.
Sophie had helped him research Korean customs and the proper manner of greeting an elder. Prince Michel was accustomed to receiving deference, but Michel Chevalier was honored to pay his respects to the man who raised Emma.
The older man chuckled as he shook his hand and glanced at his daughter. “Did you teach him how to do this?”
“No, I didn’t.” Emma’s eyes were wide with surprise.
“Well, enough of the formalities.” Her father clapped Michel on the shoulder. “I’m going to find Soo and hustle up some tacos. Oh, you two should go find Jeremy. He’s been waiting to show off his young man.”
“Welcome, friends.” Jeremy waved with a bottle of beer in his hand, his free arm wrapped around the shoulders of a slender, clean-cut man. “Come say hello to my fiancé.”
They were lounging on a love seat beneath the pergola. They were both dressed casually in T-shirts and shorts, but Steven still managed to look effortlessly stylish, while Jeremy looked a little rumpled.
When her father went to join their hostess, Michel and Emma made their way toward the seating area. As soon as they each took a seat in an armchair across from the happy, glowing couple, Jeremy began a boisterous round of introductions. Steven Kim patiently stared up at his fiancé with a fond smile until he finished.
“I’m going to give Emma a proper hello.” He patted Jeremy on the shoulder and came around to stand in front of her. Laughing, she rose to her feet and promptly got pulled into a hug. “Hello, the little sister I’ve always wanted. I hope we can be friends.”
“I can already tell you’re too good for my godbrother,” Emma joked as she stepped back.
“Watch it, brat,” Jeremy warned.
Steven turned to Michel next and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He already liked the man.
It only took some light conversation to reveal that Steven was as softspoken and gentle-mannered as Jeremy was… not. Jeremy wasn’t as irritating as he’d been that night at the Korean barbecue restaurant, but Michel wouldn’t go so far as to say he was undeniably charming, as Emma claimed.
“He grows on you,” Steven said as though he’d read his mind. He and Michel stood off to the side watching Emma and Jeremy bicker.
Michel smiled sheepishly. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“I couldn’t stand him at first,” the other man confided with perfect serenity, taking a sip from his sweating bottle of beer. “But now I can’t imagine life without him.”
“Congratulations.” He felt an unexpected stab of envy at Steven’s certainty—certainty that he wouldn’t have to imagine a life without Jeremy. But for Michel, there were still so many what-ifs. Maybe it was time he changed that. “Your fiancé is a lucky man.”
“Yes, he is.” Steven grinned. “Thank you.”
They watched in amicable silence as Jeremy and Emma snarled insults at each other with ruthless affection. The two pseudo-siblings reminded Michel of himself and his cousin—but without any modicum of civility. God, he even loved this alarmingly vicious side to Emma. She was—His breath got lodged between his throat and lungs. When he couldn’t inhale, he tried exhaling, but that didn’t work either.
I love her .
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but the realization slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball. He was in love with Emma—the kind of earth-shattering, life-altering love that he’d always dreamed about. The kind of love he’d hoped to find—a love more important than duty. But it also terrified him. What if Emma didn’t love him the way he loved her? What if she wouldn’t have him? He was in love with her, and it rendered him utterly helpless.
“If you don’t behave, Steven’s going to find out all about your emo phase.” Emma walked away from her godbrother, wagging a warning finger at him. “Come on, Michel. Let’s go get some food.”
She grabbed his hand and sprinted toward the taco cart before Steven finished saying, “What emo phase?”
“Aren’t you afraid of reprisal?” Michel teased, tucking away his epiphany to a corner of his mind. It was too new, too bright, too overwhelming to face right now.
“Not at all.” Panic flashed across her pretty face, and she gulped audibly. “My life’s an open book.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,” Michel said dubiously, which earned him a pinch on the arm. He laughed. “You were right, by the way.”
“Of course I was.” Her shoulders relaxed at the change of subject. “About what?”
“We’re having tacos, right?” He brushed his thumb across the dimple by her mouth. “It’ll be a first for me.”
“You’ll love it. Just follow my lead.” She winked at him before going up to the grill. She greeted the busy chef with easy familiarity. “Hey, Jorge. How are the kids?”
“Getting big. Too big,” the young man said with a wide grin. His hands didn’t stop moving as he manned the grill with two metal spatulas. “The usual for you?”
“You know it.” Emma held out her plate as the chef filled palm-size tortillas with mounds of chopped meat. The aroma of grilled meat and spices made Michel’s mouth water. “And how’s your sister doing?”
“Busy with the restaurant.” Jorge lined her plate with three tacos. “We don’t do too many parties these days, but anything for Soo, you know?”
“You guys are absolute gems,” Emma said with an earnest smile, her eyebrows drawing together. “We’re lucky to have you.”
Following her lead, Michel asked Jorge for one of each —which turned out to be three street tacos with carne asada, al pastor, and chicken. Emma translated that carne asada was skirt steak, al pastor was pork, and chicken was well… chicken, all marinated and grilled to perfection.
“How are you with heat?” At a side table lined with condiments, Emma paused with her spoon poised over an ominous-looking red sauce with flecks of black inside.
“Define heat .” He let his eyes drop suggestively to her lips.
“If you don’t behave, I’m not helping you anymore.” She stuck her nose in the air even as she blushed.
Michel chuckled. “I don’t eat spicy food often, but I think I can tolerate quite a bit of heat.”
“Hmm.” She pulled her mouth to the side as she thought. “Well, okay. The red salsa is the spiciest, and I like it with my carne asada. The green sauce is spicy, but not nuclear level, and it’s good with both the al pastor and the chicken.”
After drizzling her tacos with salsa, she sprinkled some chopped onion and cilantro on top and piled some sliced radishes and marinated jalape?os on the side of the plate. She was a born teacher, guiding him every step of the way. Glancing at her plate from time to time, he dressed his tacos, if not with confidence, with curiosity and excitement.
“Last but not least, the beverages.” Emma flourished her hands toward two coolers. It looked as though one held iced tea and the other milk but with ice. “We have tamarindo and horchata.”
When Michel stared blankly at her, she laughed and said, “Tamarindo is a sweet and tart drink—it tastes a little bit like plum to me—and horchata is basically rice milk with sugar and cinnamon.”
“Don’t forget to tell him we offer adult versions.” Jeremy came up from behind and draped his arms around their shoulders. “I make a mean tamarindo margarita and hard horchata.”
“He basically adds tequila or rum to the drinks.” Emma rolled her eyes at her godbrother.
“It’s called mixology, brat.” Jeremy mussed Emma’s hair. “So what will it be, Michel?”
“I’ll start with a tamarindo margarita,” Michel said as they walked to the picnic table on the grass. Everyone else had already started eating. “Followed quickly by a hard horchata.”
“That’s a good man.” Jeremy pounded his back a bit harder than necessary. “And the same for you, Emma?”
“Yup.” She held a finger up. “With a Tajin rim, please.”
“Always so demanding.” He backed away before she could slap his arm. “Two tamarindo margaritas with Tajin rims coming right up.”
“Tajin rim?” Michel murmured to Emma as they took a seat at the table.
“It’s this delicious chili-lime seasoning,” she said. “It takes the margaritas to the next level.”
“She’s right,” Steven said from across the table. “But I would take it easy on them. Jeremy is very generous with his pours.”
With that warning, the other man turned his attention to Emma’s dad and godmother, who were chatting in between bites of taco. He soon had them enthralled with anecdotes from his practice, while taking neat, practiced bites out of his own taco. Michel glanced down at his plate with a twinge of nervousness.
“Don’t be afraid to get a little messy. Watch.” Emma squirted some lime onto her taco and folded the tortilla in half as she lifted it off her plate. “The trick is to turn your head, not the taco.”
Keeping her taco perfectly horizontal, she tipped her head to the side and took a big bite, getting a drop of salsa on the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, Michel wiped it off with the pad of his thumb. Emma stopped mid-chew when he sucked the sauce off his finger, her eyes dropping to his lips.
Before he could get properly turned on, fiery heat spread across his tongue where the drop of salsa had touched it. He choked and coughed as Emma rubbed a soothing hand down his back. Jeremy delivered the margaritas with perfect timing, and Michel gulped half of his down.
“Easy, cowboy,” Jeremy cautioned as he slid onto the bench beside his fiancé.
Michel coughed into his fist, fighting the urge to stick his tongue out and pant. Anything to stop the torture of the red salsa. He took another, more moderate gulp of the icy margarita and surreptitiously held it in his mouth before he swallowed it. He willed his eyes to stop watering, but to no avail.
“I…” He cleared his throat. “I might need to stay away from the red salsa.”
“Not to worry. I’ll relieve you of your carne asada taco.” Emma’s dad reached across the table and took the terrifying taco off Michel’s plate.
“I am in your debt, sir.” He would eternally be grateful for his act of kindness.
“I imagine Sir Lancelot to sound a lot like him,” Steven murmured to his fiancé.
“Ding, ding, ding.” Jeremy tapped the tip of his nose with one index finger and pointed the other at Steven. “He does sound like Lancelot, doesn’t he? With his part-British, part-French accent and his ridiculously correct use of the English language. He would make a good knight of the Round Table.”
“Well, only if he knows how to handle a lance,” Steven pointed out.
Michel nearly groaned when Jeremy’s grin transformed into a leer. But before he could make a highly inappropriate joke, his fiancé clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Stop teasing the poor man,” Auntie Soo chided her son. “But I do think his accent is rather dashing.”
Not knowing how to respond, Michel picked up his al pastor taco like Emma showed him and took a healthy bite with his head tilted to the side. Having his mouth full gave him an excuse not to talk and also made Auntie Soo nod with approval. And, God, it was delicious. He turned wide eyes to Emma.
“Good, huh? Backyard taco party.” She grinned and made a check mark in the air. “Check.”
As the late afternoon shifted into evening—good conversation and laughter flowing freely along with the delicious tacos and drinks—Michel wished that his three-month reprieve wasn’t halfway over. He leaned close to Emma until their shoulders brushed and their thighs pressed together. When her shining eyes met his with sweet affection, he wished it would never end.
But these happy moments would never end if he had Emma by his side. He had to do everything in his power to convince her that forever and happily ever after could be theirs. Her parents’ marriage had ended in heartbreak for them… and for Emma… but if she’d let him, Michel would love her until his dying breath.