Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Michel had racked his brain and the internet to figure out what quintessential Los Angeles experience he could offer to a lifetime Angeleno. He had devoted his every free minute to planning a date to surprise Emma—and preferably sweep her off her feet—but he’d hit dead end after dead end until…
The Magic Castle .
It was a private clubhouse in Hollywood for members of the Academy of Magical Arts. Only members of the exclusive club and their invited guests were allowed access. After Sophie discreetly obtained intel that Emma had never been to the Magic Castle, Antoine had worked his magic to get a club board member to extend an invitation. While his assistant offered the option of simply buying out the club for the evening, Michel knew that Emma would prefer to experience the place with the hustle and bustle of other guests.
She had been intrigued when he invited her on a surprise date and decidedly thrilled when he informed her that the dress code for the night was “When in doubt, OVERDRESS!” Michel couldn’t help but smile as he walked up to her front door in his tuxedo. She always looked impeccable whatever the occasion. How would she look when she decided to overdress?
He rang the doorbell and rocked back on his heels as nerves and anticipation coursed through him. His mouth dropped open when Emma opened the door looking like a mermaid wrapped in shimmering gold. Even a lifetime of grooming couldn’t stop him from gaping at her like a complete fool. His only saving grace was that she looked equally dazed as she took him in, her eyes traveling from the top of his head to his toes, then back up again.
Michel managed to break free of his stupor long enough to whisper, “You look stunning.”
“And you need to wear that more often.” Emma bit her bottom lip. “Like every day.”
“Gabriel already gives me a hard time for overdressing to work.” Michel chuckled, his gaze traveling over her again. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. “He would have a field day if I showed up to lecture in a tuxedo.”
“That would be a bit over the top, I guess.” Her impish dimple jolted his heart into a gallop, and he considered taking her straight back to his hotel.
“As for you,” he growled, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her against him, “you cannot wear that dress unless you’re with me. It’s far too alluring.”
She arched a disapproving eyebrow at him even as she smoothed her hands over his chest and shoulders. “I cannot ?”
“I implore you not to,” he quickly amended, realizing his inner caveman had gotten the best of him for a moment.
“Hmm.” She took a step back after a lingering kiss on his cheek. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Thank you.” He tucked her hand in his arm and led her to his car.
“Oh my God. You look gorgeous.” Sophie glanced over from the driver’s seat and gasped as Michel helped Emma into the car.
“Aww, thank you, Sophie.” Emma blushed charmingly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She wore her hair down tonight in a curtain of luscious waves. “I kind of took it literally when Michel said I could overdress to my heart’s desire.”
“I think you in that dress is his heart’s desire.” Sophie couldn’t hold back her snort. “Perhaps you might want to close your mouth, my prince.”
Emma seemed to startle at the reminder that he was a prince. Michel studied her from the corner of his eye. Did she truly forget that he was a prince from time to time? Her sweet smiles and tender touches were all for him—not his crown. He was still Michel to her.
Until he met Emma, he didn’t know who he was apart from his title and duty. But she showed him that he was a regular guy who found joy in everyday things and loved to laugh—even at himself—especially with her by his side. And he never wanted to forget how good it felt to be that guy.
Once he dedicated his life to the people of Rouleme as their new king, he would lose that part of himself without her. But with her by his side, he could continue finding joy in the everyday and build a life that was meant just for them—for Emma and Michel. When they were alone, he would still get to be the man who loved her more than life—the man who was happiest when he was with her.
But what about Emma? What did she need?
Michel remembered his cousin’s fervent words. Be desperate, needy, selfish, greedy. Do whatever you need to hold on to Emma. He had to stop second-guessing himself. When he chose to come to America, he’d decided to put himself ahead of duty and responsibility—to be selfish for once. He had vowed not to settle for anything less than all-consuming love. Now that he found it, he would choose to be selfish again. He would fight for her heart, everything else be damned.
Suddenly, the love inside him felt too big, too alive to keep hidden. If he declared his love for her and asked for her hand in marriage—and she rejected him—then he could lose the three weeks he had left with her. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her to know. Tonight. He would ask her tonight after an evening filled with magic. Maybe it would help her see that anything was possible—that she could be happy with him even if it meant leaving her life in America behind.
Michel reached out and linked his fingers through hers. She glanced his way with a soft smile. He picked up her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles before placing a lingering kiss over them. Her breath escaped her in a rush, and he grinned smugly.
She leaned close with her hand on his thigh, her fingers drifting daringly close to his hardening cock. “I suggest you behave or this drive could become unbearable for you.”
“Are you trying to dissuade me?” he said in a rough whisper. “Or tempt me?”
When Sophie surreptitiously raised the volume on the radio, they jumped apart and scooted to their sides of the car. He didn’t even make eye contact with Emma until his pulse evened out and he was certain he could behave for his poor friend’s sake.
“Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” Emma asked with her composure restored. She glanced outside the window. “It looks like we’re headed to the Westside.”
“Patience, Emma,” he teased. “You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?”
“Maybe we’re going to watch a show.” She scrunched her mouth to one side, obviously not ready to give up. “But we’re a bit overdressed for a musical or a play. Maybe an opera?”
“I’m afraid we’re not re-creating a scene from Pretty Woman .” He smiled, enjoying himself immensely.
“Well, that’s a shame. I love that movie.” She gave him an exaggerated wink. “I especially love the Rodeo Drive scene. Hint, hint.”
Michel chuckled. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
“Ugh, I give up.” Emma slumped in her seat with a pout. “Do with me as you will.”
“I like the sound of that.” He gave her a pointed glance, and she blushed. Before things got out of hand again, he continued, “You’ll like this surprise.”
He certainly hoped he was correct. She turned even simple meals into events and celebrations. The theatrics and whimsy of the Magic Castle had to catch Emma’s fancy. Before they rounded the bend and the surprise was revealed, Michel urged, “Quick. Close your eyes.”
Emma closed her eyes even as she said, “What? Are you serious?”
“Yes.” He placed his hand over her eyes just to make sure she didn’t peek.
When the Magic Castle came into view, Michel realized that it was really more of a magic chateau, charming and quaint rather than opulent. But even he felt a thrill of excitement as they neared their destination, certain there was magic in the air. After reminding her to keep her eyes closed, he shot out of the car and waved aside the valet reaching for Emma’s door.
He wrapped his arm around her waist as he helped her step out of the car. “Open your eyes.”
“Shut. The. Front door,” Emma breathed as soon as she opened her eyes, then slapped his arm. “The Magic Castle?”
“Yes?” He wasn’t quite sure how to interpret her reaction. Then she squealed and threw herself into his arms. He sighed with relief as he held her tightly against him. “Surprise.”
Her round eyes bounced around the exterior of the Victorian mansion as he guided her toward the entrance. Emma was tickled pink to say the magic words that granted them entry to the exclusive club.
“Open sesame,” she said with gusto. She promptly dissolved into giggles as the doors opened for them.
Dark wood panels and black carpet with gold brocade greeted them as they stepped inside. A dizzying amount of artwork and photos decorated the walls, nearly obscuring the burgundy wallpaper of the corridor. The decor felt like a cross between the glamour of old Hollywood and the opulence of the Titanic with generous sprinklings of the outlandish.
“This is so fun .” She tugged him along by his hand with a manic gleam in her eyes. “We have to see every nook and cranny. Watch every show. Try all the bars. We’re having dinner here, right?” At his indulgent nod—he would give her anything she asked for—she continued, “We might have to find a broom closet to hide in later so they won’t kick us out when it’s closing time.”
“Anything for you, darling Emma,” he said, cupping her face.
“Thank you for tonight.” She leaned into his hand, her eyes soft with affection. Before he could steal a kiss from her, she straightened and clapped her hands twice. “Okay. We have to hustle now.”
Even as they watched shows that defied logic as well as the laws of physics, he couldn’t look away from her. She was radiant. It made him unbelievably proud he put that smile on her face.
“Watch.” She nudged him with her elbow. “You’re going to miss it.”
The magic of the illusionists and mentalists sucked him in at last—he was simultaneously enthralled and a little alarmed—and the evening flew by in a blur. The cocktails they had consumed at the various bars probably contributed to the whirlwind effect.
“How do you think she made that—”
“Shh.” Emma pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t try to analyze it. Just believe .”
With a chuckle, he captured her hand in his and led her to the restaurant for their dinner reservation. The plentiful and hearty meal of beef Wellington and prime rib—they shared everything, of course—was a welcome reprieve, but brief, thanks to the efficient, well-oiled service.
“Would you like some dessert?” Michel suggested to linger a bit longer. “Or a digestif?”
“Ordinarily, you know I would never pass up dessert.” She folded her napkin and placed it on the table. “But tonight is extraordinary . We have too many things left to see.”
“I thought we watched all the featured shows.” His brows drew down.
“We did, but there are so many side shows. There are literally magicians in every corner.” She stood and tugged at his arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Unable to deny her anything, he followed her out of the restaurant. Michel was relieved when the crowd thinned out as the evening drew to a close. He had to get Emma alone. He had to tell her he loved her or his heart might explode. He’d waited long enough. No more second-guessing. No more being cautious. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. This would be the night he made her his.
Before he could coax her out of the castle, a portion of the wall seemed to split open, and a staff member stepped outside with a broom and a dustpan. They had passed by the seamless hidden panel in the corridor throughout the evening, none the wiser.
“Oh my gosh. The broom closet, ” Emma whispered, squirming with excitement beside him. When the member of staff rounded the corner, she shoved Michel inside the clean but spartan storage closet and clicked the door shut.
“Emma,” he said, unable to hide his alarm, “you don’t truly intend to hide in here until everyone leaves?”
“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve just been wanting to do this all night.”
Then she launched herself at him hard enough to make him stumble into a metal shelf. But even the clattering of falling objects didn’t deter him from kissing her back with abandon, his arms circling her waist to hold her close to him. The shelving dug into his back and arse, but he couldn’t have cared less. God. The feel of her… the taste of her… He couldn’t get enough.
The gold sequins of her dress felt cold against his hands, and he growled in frustration. He needed to touch her skin—her silken, bare skin. But he had a sliver of rational thought left in his head to know that this wasn’t the place. Still, he couldn’t stop kissing her.
“Ahhh!” someone yelped from the doorway. “I’m sorry. I mean, you shouldn’t be in here. But… ugh.”
“It seems we took a wrong turn.” Michel pushed Emma behind him and arched a cool brow at the flustered staff member with the broom and dustpan. “Would you be so kind as to point us toward the front entrance?”
The staff member sighed with resignation. “Go all the way down this corridor and hook a left.”
Michel nodded with more dignity than he felt and rushed past the poor man with Emma tucked to his side. They were halfway down the corridor when he heard the staff member mutter, “Why is it always the broom closet?”
As soon as they turned left at the corner, they burst out laughing hard enough to need to lean on the wall for support.
“That”—he wiped the corner of his eyes with his knuckle—“was not my finest moment.”
“I’ve had worse.” She grabbed her side, fighting for her breath. “You have to grow a thick skin when you have Jeremy for a godbrother.”
With a wry shake of his head, Michel led Emma toward the main entrance. She shivered when they stepped out into the night, and he ran his hand up and down her bare arm. He wanted to get her out of the cold, but he was equally impatient to get her alone. He mentally recalled the combination to the safe in his bedroom that held his mother’s ring. He’d felt like an optimistic fool bringing the ring with him, but now he was relieved he had it with him. He couldn’t propose to Emma without it.
“My prince,” Sophie said in a low voice, materializing at his side. “I have some news—”
“Not now.” He cringed at how terse that came out. “Sorry, Sophie. We’ll talk later.”
“But…” His friend sighed. “Of course. I had the car brought over. Right this way.”
He had no idea how Sophie had known when they would be out, but he was grateful for the waiting car. He ushered Emma in first, then got in beside her. He tugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her. She watched with exasperated affection as he buckled her seat belt for her.
“You don’t need to coddle me, Michel,” she admonished with a small smile.
“Let me.” He held her gaze and ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “I want to.”
Once Michel secured his own seat belt, Sophie pulled smoothly away from the curb and glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Where to?”
“Do you mind coming over to the hotel for a short while?” He swallowed. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” Her eyes went wide with curiosity. “What about?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re alone.” His voice came out in a husky croak.
“Ah.” Her lips curved into a knowing smile that shot straight to his groin. For once, that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, but he couldn’t say it was far behind. “I’m looking forward to our talk .”
Even though Sophie had probably heard everything, he belatedly answered her question, “To the hotel, please.”
He thought his friend muttered something under her breath. But when he shot a questioning glance at her, she merely said, “Of course, Your Highness.”
Michel’s brows furrowed at her terse response, and he had an unwelcome premonition that the night might not go as he’d planned.