Chapter 8
Charm is Dead (And Alexander Killed It)
After their disaster of a first meeting, Lord Davenport had pulled Alexander aside.
“Your Highness, I don’t feel the need to attend further meetings,” he’d said with diplomatic caution. “I’ll update the Queen that you have the situation under control.” The slight pause before “control” had not gone unnoticed.
Alexander had wanted to protest. He wanted to remind Davenport that his presence served as a much-needed buffer, but his pride wouldn’t allow it.
Left to handle the infuriating Miss Carter himself. Wonderful.
He’d spent half the night reviewing the exhibition plans, determined to counter her every argument with historical precedent.
Now, as he strode into the archives, intent on arriving first and taking control of the conversation, he realized with mild irritation that he had already failed.
Because Emilia Carter was already there.
She hadn’t noticed him yet, completely absorbed in whatever ancient text she was deciphering, her brows drawn together in thought.
Alexander hesitated, just for a moment.
And then, for some inexplicable reason, Sebastian’s voice popped into his head.
“You could always flirt with her. Throw her off her game.”
Alexander had dismissed the ridiculous suggestion outright. He wasn’t Sebastian. He wasn’t the type to grin lazily across a room and have women melt at his feet. He was the reserved one. The dignified one.
And yet…
The idea was idiotic. He knew it.
But then again…
I mean, wouldn’t it be funny if it worked? If after all her insistence that she didn’t like him, she actually fell for it?
It would serve her right for being so insufferable. So certain that she was immune to him.
After all, he was a charming prince, wasn’t he?
Delusional. Absolutely delusional.
And yet, against his better judgment, he found himself leaning against the table, lowering his voice into something smooth and just a touch amused.
“Miss Carter,” he greeted, flashing what he hoped was a natural, effortless smile. “A pleasure, as always.”
She stilled mid-page flip.
Then, very, very slowly, she turned toward him, her sharp green eyes scanning him with obvious suspicion.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
And then, completely unimpressed, she deadpanned:
“No, it isn’t.”
Alexander’s smile faltered.
“Pardon?”
“You don’t enjoy seeing me,” she said, arms folding across her chest. “You find me deeply frustrating, and I make your life harder. So forgive me if I don’t believe this sudden display of warmth.”
A flicker of mild regret surfaced in Alexander’s mind, he should have just stuck to being serious. He knew this was a mistake. But instead of backing down like a rational person, he doubled down instead.
“Miss Carter,” he said, injecting far too much smoothness into his voice, “is it so difficult to believe that I find our discussions engaging? Perhaps I misjudged you initially.”
Silence.
Emilia stared at him.
She did not blink.
She did not react.
She just studied him with the unnerving intensity of a scientist observing a particularly dumb lab rat about to electrocute itself.
And then, she sighed.
“Oh no.”
Alexander frowned. “No?”
“No,” Emilia repeated, shaking her head as if he were an idiot. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I assure you, it won’t work.”
Alexander felt heat creeping up his neck.
“It?” he repeated, attempting to feign ignorance, though something deep inside him whispered: Abort mission. Immediate retreat advised.
“This whole Prince Charming act,” she clarified, waving a hand vaguely at him. “It’s a little too smooth, too unnatural. Yesterday you were implying I only applied for this position because of a magazine spread, and today you’re leaning on tables and smiling like we’re old friends? Please.”
She turned back to her notes. “I wasn’t selected for this project because I’m easily charmed, Your Highness. I was selected because I don’t fall for performances, royal or otherwise.”
He was going to kill Sebastian.
“Miss Carter,” Alexander began, ready to salvage whatever dignity he had left.
“Please,” she interrupted, lifting a hand. “Don’t embarrass yourself further. You made your opinions about my age and experience quite clear. Let’s not pretend you suddenly respect me overnight.”
Alexander clenched his jaw. God, she was infuriating.
Emilia smiled sweetly. “So, if we’re finished with whatever this was,” she continued, flipping a page in her notes, “shall we return to the exhibit? Unless, of course, you’d like to discuss my Pinterest boards first?”
Alexander let out a frustrated breath. The direct reference to his overheard comments landed like a slap. “No, let’s just carry on with the exhibit, Miss Carter.”
Emilia tilted her head. “Wonderful. And please, no need for pleasantries next time. I prefer honest disdain to insincere charm.”
Alexander did not respond.
Because he was too busy mentally calculating exactly how much force it would take to strangle his best friend.