Chapter 24
Anais
After the best kiss of my life, and once the event had ended, Evan all but demanded I go home with his father. I was furious, but causing a scene wasn’t an option, so like a good little girl I climbed into the town car with Christian, Aria, and Bishop and was driven away back to my apartment.
By the time I arrived home, it was past midnight.
After a quick shower, I laid in bed, stewing in my own thoughts, replaying every second of our interaction.
I was going mad, crazy out of my mind, trying to make sense of what happened between us, and I needed to put a stop to it before I spiraled completely.
“Ugh,” I groan, trying to shove all thoughts of Evan to the back of my mind.
Rolling onto my side, I reach for my Kindle.
I need a distraction. Getting lost in the spicy book I’ve been reading should help.
Just as I pick it up, my phone chimes with a notification.
Like the silly, lovesick, girl I am, my heart beats wildly, hoping it’s from Evan.
Snatching up my phone from the nightstand, my pulse slows when I find a message from an unknown number.
Unlocking my screen, I open the message, frowning as I read over the words.
Unknown: So, is the woman with the prettiest eyes I have ever seen going to let me take her for dinner?
I frown as I reread the text, then type out a reply.
Me: Who is this?
The reply is almost instant.
Unknown: Your Dutch James Bond ;)
My heart races, but for an entirely different reason now.
Sure, the prince is attractive, but I’m not interested in him like that.
Pathetically, the only man I have ever been interested in is the one that’s a walking red flag, and blows hot and cold, messing with my emotions.
For years, I’ve watched as Evan paraded around women in front of me.
Maybe it’s time he got a taste of his own medicine.
I chew my bottom lip, debating. This isn’t really a game I should be playing, but at least the prince is direct with what he wants, unlike Evan, who kisses me like I’m his entire world, then pretends like I don’t exist.
Fredrik is not my anything, in any way, but it could be fun going for dinner with a real-life prince.
And maybe, just maybe, it will be the push Evan needs to finally admit he wants me.
I saw the jealousy in his eyes, when he saw me with the prince.
So, if going to dinner with Fredrik stirs something in my boss, then it’s a win. But first…
My fingers fly over the screen.
Me: How did you get my number?
Unknown: I have my resources. Now, is that a yes?
Before I can stop myself, I type my response.
Me: Since you asked so nicely, I’ll consider it.
Unknown: I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll make reservations at Rodrigo Central Park tomorrow evening and send a car to pick you up at 7:00pm. Please send me your address.
I roll my eyes. What is it with men thinking they can boss me around?
Reading over his message once more, I notice the restaurant he picked.
Rodrigo Central Park is an expensive, Michelin star hot spot with a month’s long wait list. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get a reservation if you know the right people.
I’ve been a couple of times and though the food and ambiance are amazing, I would much prefer dollar pizza and the karaoke club.
Me: Thank you. But I’m a twenty-first century independent woman. I can make my own way there.
Unknown: I never said you weren’t independent. But it would be ungentlemanly of me to allow my date to arrange her own transport. I don’t know how you do things in New York, but I only offer a five-star experience for my dates.
Despite myself, I chuckle. The prince has charm.
Me: How very noble of you. But still, I will meet you there.
Unknown: I’m not going to win this one, am I?
Me: No.
Unknown: Then I will pick my battles and see you for dinner tomorrow pretty eyes.
Again, I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to cringe at the pet name. It’s not that Fredrik is doing anything wrong, but he is laying it on a bit thick. Still, I can’t deny he is making an effort, unlike Evan.
Setting my phone down on the nightstand, I roll over to face the window.
Guess I’m going on a date tomorrow.
Saturday evening I’m in the back of a cab, making my way to the restaurant, when my phone rings. Sliding it out of my purse, I smile when I see my brother’s name flashing on the screen and quickly swipe to answer.
“Hey,” I chirp.
“Hey, sis. I just stopped by your place, but you’re not home,” Harrison states.
I roll my eyes. “That’s because I’m on my way to dinner.”
“Oh,” he drawls, then pauses. “With who?” I hear the curiosity in his voice.
Hesitating, I chew my lip, debating whether to tell him. It’s not like my brother can stop me, but I don’t want him being his usual protective self over something as innocent as dinner.
Fuck it. He won’t stop until I give him an answer.
“Just some guy I met at the Maxwell Showcase Event,” I murmur.
“Some guy?” he repeats. “And who is this guy, Anais?”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. There’s no point being vague. Harrison will get it out of me one way or another. “His name is Fredrik. He’s a- a,” I stammer, feeling flustered. “He’s a prince.”
“A prince?” Harrison asks slowly, shock and a hint of suspicion lacing his voice.
“Yeah. A prince.” I groan. “Don’t be weird, Harrison. I’m going for dinner with a man. He’s taking me to Rodrigo Central Park. It’s a normal thing for a nineteen-year-old woman to do.”
“I’m not being weird,” he rushes to tell me. “I just…” he trails off, sighing. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Have fun, Anais. But remember, if he makes you feel uncomfortable at any point, call me. I’ll come get you.”
I chuckle. “Thank you, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Offer still stands,” he shoots back, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now enjoy your date, be safe. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, brother,” I sing song before ending the call.
Not long after, the cab pulls up to the restaurant.
Doubt creeps in and nerves flutter low in my stomach as I stare up at the building.
I’m not entirely sure I am doing the right thing by having dinner with him.
It’s cruel to give someone false hope, especially when you know for certain nothing will ever come of it.
Minutes pass as I wrestle with the idea of telling the cab driver to take me back to my apartment.
I get ready to do just that, when a little voice in my head whispers, once more, that it might just be the push Evan needs.
Before I can change my mind, I pay the driver, then push the door open.
With a deep inhale, I walk into the restaurant without another second of hesitation.
At the hostess stand I give Fredrik’s name. The stunning woman smiles, before quickly leading me to a private dining room, guarded by two men in black suits. Security. One of them takes my name, and then without another word, he opens the door and ushers me inside.
As soon as Fredrik’s gaze lands on me, his eyes light up, a wide smile curving his full lips.
“Anais,” he greets warmly, rising from his chair and closing the distance between us.
He takes my hand, leaning in and pressing a kiss to one cheek then the other.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, stepping back to look at me.
His gaze roams all over my body, taking in the long red dress.
“Even more stunning than I remembered.” He grins.
I feel nothing. No spark. No hint of arousal. My shoulders sag.
One look from Evan – even if it’s laced with disdain – sets me on fire.
Disappointment slithers through me, but I push it aside. I will not let Evan ruin this for me. I also need to stop comparing every man I meet to the one who’s made it clear, on many occasions, he doesn’t want me.
“You also look very handsome, Prince Fredrik.” I say, feeling a little unsure.
Do I curtsy? Bow? What’s the protocol when having dinner with a prince.
He smiles, and something settles inside of me as my eyes rake over him.
In navy dress pants, a white shirt, and black loafers he looks like every woman’s wet dream.
Every woman but me, that is.
He smirks. “You don’t have to refer to me as a Prince every time you address me. My friends call me Fred.” He frowns. “Or Freddy.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh. Well, you look very handsome, Freddy.”
His grin is wide. Triumphant. He clears his throat before pulling out a chair. Hot breath hits my ear, and I shiver. “Take a seat, Anais. I’m just going to release my security. I’ll be right back.”
Freddy pulls the door open, murmuring some words to the men outside. He tells them he’ll message when he’s ready to leave, and for them to wait in the car or go back to the hotel. He speaks to them with respect, which I take as a good sign.
Within minutes he’s back at the table, taking a seat opposite me.
His gaze locks with mine, soft but filled with interest, and a smile tugs at his lips as he lifts the bottle of wine and pours me a glass.
“I’m aware that you’re underage, but in my country, it’s legal to consume alcohol at eighteen. ”
I arch a brow. “How do you know I’m underage? I never told you how old I am.”
His smirk is full of confidence as he winks. “I’ve done my research.”
Lifting the glass of Rosé, I laugh. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned.”
“Definitely flattered.” He shoots back, lifting his own glass and raising it in cheers. “Here’s to a lovely dinner with the most beautiful woman in the city.”
I cock my head, smirking. “Charming and a prince. You really are the full package.”
“I like to think so.”
Taking a slow sip of the wine, I let the crisp notes hit my taste buds before placing my glass on the table and meeting his gaze. “So, Freddy, tell me why you stalked me for dinner, when I’m pretty sure you could have any woman in the world?”
Freddy laughs before sobering. His interested brown eyes lock on mine, intense, and searching. “There’s something about you, Anais,” he murmurs. “Something… refreshing. I knew it when you showed me that beautiful necklace and I know it now while you sit across from me.”
My cheeks heat, and I want to look away, but I force myself to hold his gaze. Clearing my throat, I say. “Speaking of that necklace, did you manage to add it to your collection?”
Sighing, Freddy leans back in his chair, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes as he shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I did not. I offered well over the market value and Mr. Maxwell still refused to sell it to me.”
My pulse spikes just hearing the name.
When he says Mr. Maxwell, which one does he mean?
Christian?
Or…Evan?
In my hopeless, delusional mind, it’s the latter. Maybe Evan’s jealousy got the better of him. Maybe he couldn’t stand the thought of Freddy owning the necklace? A girl can dream. I roll my eyes. Enough of this nonsense. Stop thinking about him.
Shoving all thoughts of Evan aside, I focus on the man in front of me. The real-life prince.
He might not be the man I want, but he’s the one that asked me to dinner.
And for that alone, I owe him my attention.
So, with every ounce of self-control I possess, I push Evan to the back of my mind and allow myself to enjoy the company of a man who actually wants mine.