Chapter Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Emma loved that Michel was more relaxed and easygoing in her presence, but he was still buttoned-up and proper in public—which made complete sense since he was a prince who’d been groomed to be king one day. Well, she still floundered with the fact that he was a prince, but it did help her understand him a little better.
But tonight, as they walked through the hotel lobby, he was positively brimming with tension, his hand gripping hers tightly. Sophie tried to get his attention a few times, looking uncharacteristically flustered, but he remained lost in thought. Emma studied him silently, hoping to figure out what was bothering him.
When they got off the elevator, Sophie didn’t head to her suite for an evening of across-the-foyer surveillance. She hovered nearby, going as far as to wring her hands once or twice. Michel seemed to notice none of it. Clicking her tongue, the royal guard finally pulled him aside by his arm and whispered something in his ear.
“She’s here?” He pointed to his suite. “Now?”
“Yes,” Sophie said tightly. “That is what I needed to speak to you about.”
With a long sigh, Michel unlocked his door and held it open for Emma. Before she could walk in, he quietly informed her, “I’m sorry, but it seems I have a guest tonight.”
“Cousin Michel,” a high, childlike voice declared from the living room. “You’re here at last.”
He had a smile on his face as he strode toward the raven-haired beauty and Gabriel, who sat on one of the settees with his head in his hand.
“Marion,” Michel said smoothly, “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“If I may.” Gabriel raised his hand. “I am apparently a party pooper . My suggestion that she spend the night in San Francisco and fly down tomorrow morning was deemed asinine by my dear sister. So she helicoptered in like a spoiled brat—”
“Hey.” Marion—who apparently was Gabriel’s sister—pouted her pillowy pink lips. “You know I hate being called that. It was much more reasonable for me to join you sooner than to spend a night alone in a strange city. Wouldn’t you agree, Sophie? For my safety and all that?”
“Yes.” Sophie’s voice was as dry as an overcooked Thanksgiving turkey. “So very reasonable. I’m sure your security team was thrilled you needed to rush here to feel safe.”
“See?” Marion beamed at Michel, completely missing the other woman’s sarcasm.
“Sorry for letting ourselves in while you were out.” Gabriel stood and clapped a hand on Michel’s shoulder. “It seemed prudent to remove her from the helipad and into a more private setting as soon as humanly possible.”
“You did the right thing.” Michel shot his cousin a half smile, but he quickly seemed at a loss for words. If he hadn’t seemed so bemused, Emma would’ve been a little hurt that he hadn’t made the introductions.
“Who’s that?” Marion crossed her legs on the sofa, twirling a strand of gleaming hair, and eyed Emma as though she expected her to curtsy.
“That, little sister, is Emma. Michel’s girlfriend,” Gabriel answered in a strained voice, his eyes nearly bulging with warning at his sister. A warning about what?
“Oooooh, intriguing.” Marion got to her feet with the fluid grace of a dancer and extended her hand to Emma. “Pleased to meet you.”
Intriguing? What could she mean?
“Nice meeting you as well.” Emma shook the other woman’s perfectly manicured hand. She didn’t particularly like her entitled, haughty manner, but she was Michel’s cousin so Emma intended to be as pleasant as possible. “So how long will you be in LA, Marion?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She dropped Emma’s hand after the briefest touch and sashayed over to the drink cart. “I prefer to let my spirit guide me rather than caging myself into a schedule.”
“A week,” Gabriel gritted through his teeth. “Max.”
“Cousin Michel.” Marion ignored her scowling older brother and waved her hand toward four giant Louis Vuitton suitcases by the door. “Could you have someone deliver my things to your spare bedroom?”
“Marion.” Sophie stepped in at last, her hand outstretched toward the younger woman. “Why don’t you come stay in my suite? We can catch up. It’s been ages.”
“Aww, that’s sweet, Feefee.” Marion’s expression softened even as Emma crinkled her nose. Feefee? “But I doubt you have views as nice as this suite. And I need to be somewhere with a piano. That’s why I can’t stay with my brother at his condo. I’ll miss my music too much.”
“You hated piano lessons,” Gabriel squawked.
“That was before I learned to appreciate the restorative power of music.” She turned her nose up. “Now I make it a point to play at least thirty minutes a day. I’m sure Cousin Michel understands. He plays beautifully.”
Sophie and Gabriel exchanged a horrified glance, then looked back and forth between Marion and Michel. It was out of their hands now. Emma belatedly realized what Michel’s surprise houseguest could mean for their privacy. God, why now? They only had three weeks left. Every minute was precious.
“I’d be happy to have you.” A muscle twitched in Michel’s jaw. He hid it admirably, but Emma knew him well enough to recognize his displeasure. She also knew he was too kind to kick his young cousin out of his suite. “I’m sure Gabriel and I can handle your luggage.”
“I’ll help with the bags,” Sophie volunteered, and jerked her head at Gabriel. “Come on. We don’t have all night.”
That had been the perfect moment for one of Gabriel’s flirtatious quips, but he didn’t so much as smirk. Instead, he joined her by the luggage at once. Things seemed tense between them as they walked off toward the spare bedroom with a rolling bag in each hand.
Emma remembered her argument with Michel and worried her bottom lip. Had her advice to Sophie the other day put a wedge between her and Gabriel? Well, that had been the point. But her friend didn’t seem any happier for it.
“Would you like a drink?” Michel asked with a hand on her back.
“Just some water, please.” Emma had a feeling she would need all her wits about her to survive an encounter with Marion.
The other woman dropped back down on the sofa with a glass of red wine, and Emma situated herself on a love seat a safe distance away. Michel sat down next to her and handed her a glass of water. His thigh didn’t quite touch hers, but she could feel the heat coming off him. She suddenly remembered their kiss in the broom closet, and frustration bloomed inside her. She couldn’t imagine finishing what they’d started with a stranger in the same suite.
“So… how did you two meet?” Marion eyed the two of them over the rim of her glass. The expression on her face was uncannily like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. Emma had a sinking feeling in her stomach. There was something she was missing. “I’m dying to hear everything.”
“We met downstairs at the hotel café,” Michel offered, sounding preoccupied. “Nothing you would find interesting.”
“You’re quite mistaken.” Marion moued her lips. “I am terribly interested.”
Michel plowed a hand through his hair, his patience noticeably running thin. It wasn’t like him to be so easily flustered.
“Well, Marion.” Emma decided it was time to divert the conversation. “If you’re available next Saturday, I’d love for you to come to a small gathering I’m hosting. It’s going to be a cooking party.”
“Oh?” The other woman looked down her perfect, pert nose at Emma. “Will you be selling plastic containers to your guests? I believe I’ve seen such… occurrences in American movies.”
There was nothing wrong with Tupperware parties, but Emma had a feeling she’d just been insulted. “No, it’s not that kind of party. I’m a culinary instructor, and I’ll actually be teaching my guests how to cook a gourmet Korean dish.”
“A culinary instructor? Of Korean food?” Genuine interest flashed in her eyes. “That’s brilliant. I will make it a point to be here for your party.”
Michel made a choking noise beside her, but Emma decided that Marion might not be all bad. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“You must be tired, Marion.” Michel got abruptly to his feet as Sophie and Gabriel returned to the living room.
“Yes. Why don’t you get situated in your room?” Gabriel said firmly, pointing toward the hallway. “I’m sure you could find it on your own. It’s the one with all your luggage inside.”
Knowing she’d been dismissed, Marion walked off in a huff.
“And if you don’t need anything else, Gabriel and I’ll be heading out as well.” Sophie nodded at Michel, mouthed good night to Emma, and followed Gabriel out the door.
When it was just the two of them in the living room, Emma belatedly remembered that Michel had something to tell her. She turned to him and asked, “What did you want to talk about?”
“That is a conversation I would rather save for when we have true privacy.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Is it… it’s nothing bad , right?” Nervousness fluttered in her stomach.
“Nothing bad.” He reached for her hand and placed a tender kiss on her wrist. “I promise.”
Emma nodded, sighing in relief. Michel never told her anything bad. It had shocked her to find out that he was a prince, but it wasn’t necessarily bad . He was doing amazing things for his country. He was changing the world . No, it wasn’t a bad thing at all. It was just irrelevant to their relationship.
Bruising pain gripped her chest, squeezing her heart like a stress ball. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting an impossible future with him—a future she couldn’t even imagine. But she knew nothing about the lives of royalty. How would she even fit into his life? The more she wanted to cling to him, the farther she wanted to run from him. She was being torn apart by her love for him. It hurt. And she wanted it to stop hurting.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said with a determined smile, scattering the train of her desperate thoughts. “It was magical .”
Michel chuckled at her cheesy joke. Honestly, it was impossible not to love a man who laughed at your cheesy jokes. She jumped to her feet. “I should… I should go.”
His hand tightened around hers for a moment, then he sighed. “Let me take you home.”
“Don’t be silly.” She headed for the front door in a quick hobble—her mermaid dress didn’t allow her to take long, graceful strides. “I don’t want to drag Sophie out again. Besides, I think she and Gabriel might be talking.”
“And you approve of this?” Michel cocked his head.
“It’s not for me to approve or disapprove.” But she did approve. She realized Michel was right. They were good people who deserved a real chance. A real chance she and Michel would never get. She felt tears sting her nose. “I’ll say good night here. If you follow me down, then Sophie will have to come, too. And I don’t want to interrupt them.”
He nodded a bit reluctantly, then leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips. “Good night, darling Emma.”
Her toes curled in her high heels, and goose bumps spread across her arms. She loved it when he called her that. With a little growl of frustration, she pulled him down for a hard, searing kiss, then stepped out into the foyer before she could change her mind.
Sophie spotted Emma and snapped her mouth shut in the middle of a sentence, but Gabriel’s eyes didn’t leave her face, willing her to finish the sentence—as though his entire life depended on it.
Emma muttered a curse under her breath. She could tell she’d chosen the most inopportune time to interrupt. She rushed to the elevator, shielding her face with her hand as if that would make her invisible. “Don’t mind me. Pretend I’m not here.”
“I can drive you…” Sophie began, but her gaze drifted back to Gabriel. He looked at her like he missed her even though she was standing right in front of him.
“I’ll be gone in a second.” Emma poked repeatedly at the elevator button like she was trying to bring on the pain in a video combat game. Thankfully, the elevator arrived with a delicate ding before she could feel really awkward. She ran inside with a hasty wave and pressed the Close button. “Carry on.”
Suddenly exhausted, she leaned against the wood panels of the elevator wall, letting her head fall back. She wished she could stay with Michel—it was the only way to keep her worries at bay these days—but her dad would be waiting up for her. He would pretend he fell asleep on the couch, but she knew better than to buy that.
“Ms. Yoon.” The concierge hurried to her side when she walked out into the lobby. “Mr. Chevalier has requested that one of our drivers take you home.”
Too tired to argue, she let herself be handed off to a kind-faced gentleman in a black suit and slid into a Lincoln Town Car just outside the hotel. She appreciated that the driver didn’t try to engage in small talk and let her stare out the window. She couldn’t believe it was only a few weeks ago that she’d thought it fortunate that Michel only had two months in LA. Now the thought of him leaving made every cell in her body hurt.
She had to remember that they had nothing in common. But a small voice insisted that their differences complemented each other’s and made them better versions of themselves. No. They were practically a different species—a royal and a commoner. Maybe she was being unnecessarily harsh, but she couldn’t forget how ugly falling out of love was. It wasn’t just the fighting that she hated. Her parents’ silence had been far worse—how they seemed to stop existing for each other. She wouldn’t be able to bear that happening to her and Michel.
Emma could, however, admit to herself that there was no going back to normal when he left. And she sure as hell wasn’t going on any more matseons. She would have to think of another way to preserve Auntie Soo’s reputation. Even the thought of marrying a nice, compatible man—sharing her life with a man who wasn’t Michel—made her stomach roil with nausea.
But she wouldn’t be alone. She had her dad, her godmother, Jeremy, her friends, and her business. She would rebuild herself piece by piece if she had to. She would build a beautiful life for herself with jeongseong—with all of her shattered heart.