16. Alejandro
ALEJANDRO
GAbrIEL HAD STOLEN my saffron.
Literally. He stood several feet away at his cooking station with my tiny glass jar of Solterra’s most expensive saffron tucked into the other ingredients lined up beside his cutting board.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that the man was a thief, considering he never once respected personal boundaries.
I pointed my knife at him. “That is mine.”
Gabriel glanced down at the jar, then back to me, all wide-eyed innocence. “Is it?”
“It was on my station.”
“Interesting. And yet here it is on mine.”
The man was insufferable. “You’re making chocolate lava cake.”
“I am, and if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you have a bite.”
“Lava cake doesn’t require saffron.”
“It does now.”
A laugh went through the crowd gathered under the striped pavilion, and Gabriel grinned.
Today’s main event was the Royal Charity Cooking Competition, where Solterran chefs paired with members of the royal household and visiting dignitaries to raise money for food banks and community kitchens.
Of course Gabriel and I had been placed near each other, because after the wine-stomping incident, there were bound to be fireworks, which would provide entertainment for all.
He was paired with Chef Martin, my chef, who had clearly forgotten his loyalty to the crown after Gabriel had complimented his percebes so much the first night he arrived.
I, on the other hand, was paired with a Michelin-starred cook, Chef Copeland, and I had no doubts whatsoever about her ability to guide me to a win.
I needed it. Especially after giving up control to Gabriel in my bed last night.
God. I didn’t need to be thinking about that, about him. Didn’t need to be noticing the way his ass filled out those dark pants, or the fact that I’d be getting my dick inside him sooner rather than later.
That was all it was, though—fucking. No dates, no flowers, no jealousy, no falling in love. We were both on the same page about that, which was the only reason why this arrangement could work.
What wouldn’t work, however, was the asshole stealing my saffron.
“Give it back,” I said.
Gabriel turned to face me, leaning his hip against his station. “Say please.”
“I will set your lava cakes on fire.”
“Is that Solterran for ‘please’”?
Chef Copeland cleared her throat beside me. “Your Highness, we need to get the risotto going.”
Dammit, Gabriel.
“Chef Martin,” I called out. “Are you aware your partner has resorted to theft?”
He looked up from where he was cutting blocks of dark chocolate and glanced at the ingredients laid out between them. “Apologies, Your Highness,” he said, swiping the saffron and bringing it over to me. “I think Prince Gabriel got it mixed up with the marigolds.”
“I did not,” Gabriel singsonged behind him.
“You don’t need to apologize for him,” I told Chef Martin.
“Of course, sir.”
“Feel free to burn the chocolate.”
“Is that an order, sir?”
Before I could answer, Gabriel’s hand clamped down on the man’s shoulder and he steered him back to his station. “Surely cheating isn’t a Solterran virtue.”
“Accidents happen.”
He shook his head as I followed Chef Copeland’s instructions of crushing the saffron threads between my fingers and then dropping them into the stock. It wasn’t until I went to reach for the butter to get the rice toasted that I realized it was missing.
I looked at Chef Copeland, who looked at Gabriel, and sure enough, the butter dish was beside him.
“You stole my butter too?” I said.
“Don’t be selfish, Your Highness. Lava cakes also require butter.”
The crowd laughed, and I’d forgotten they were even there. I looked up at them and decided to play it up, giving a dramatic eye roll that sent camera flashes going off.
Good, maybe then the headline would read: Prince Alejandro tired of Prince Gabriel encroaching on his space; sends him back home to stuffy Valoria with his tail between his legs.
But that had my mind going back to that massive cock between his thighs and how much I’d enjoyed it a few hours ago. Amazing how someone I despised could be so damn good in bed.
Maybe despised was too strong a term. More like disliked immensely.
I set down my knife and walked over to his station, and with every step, Gabriel’s smile grew. Of course my scowl didn’t cause alarm bells to go off in his head the way it should’ve, because he was apparently immune to that.
Or enjoyed it far too much.
“Is there something you need?” His eyes were glinting with mischief, and I could hear the double entendre behind his words. Even more when he added, “What can I do for you?”
My mind flashed back to his tying my sash around my wrists and holding me hostage so he could destroy my body in the best way, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from begging him to do it again.
“You can stop taking what doesn’t belong to you,” I said, reaching for the butter dish.
But then I realized what was sitting beside it, and it was far more tempting.
Before my better judgment kicked in, I reached for a handful of the flour and saw Gabriel’s smile falter seconds before I threw it at him.
It hit his aproned chest in a soft white burst that spread up his neck and down his arms, and the crowd behind me gasped.
Both chefs froze in shock, but Gabriel only looked down at himself, and then slowly lifted his eyes to meet mine.
“So that’s how we’re playing.”
“You stole from me. Twice.”
“And you just attacked a royal guest of honor.”
“Don’t know about the honor part of that. Maybe just royal pain in the—”
My words cut off as Gabriel grabbed a handful of the flour and threw it right back at me, hitting my neck and shoulder. I could taste it on my lips.
We both reached for the flour bowl at the same time, grabbing fistfuls of the powdery stuff and flinging it at each other as the crowd went wild behind us. It wasn’t dignified, I knew that, but ask me if I cared in that moment.
“Look at you,” Gabriel said, before ducking behind the counter when I aimed his way. When his head popped up again, he sent a handful flying in my direction, and it hit me in the back when I turned. “You wear flour well.”
“I wear everything well.”
His gaze swept over me, and even with others watching, I couldn’t stop the heat curling low in my stomach.
No. Absolutely not. I wasn’t going to let one look from Gabriel make me forget we were still in the middle of a charity cooking competition.
With the bowl empty, I grabbed the entire bag of flour to throw in his direction—just as Elena stepped in between us to try to stop us.
It was like witnessing action in slow motion as the contents landed all over her, from the top of her head to her immaculate fitted red dress. The gasps around the room were loud, and for a moment Elena sputtered in surprise before narrowing her kohl-rimmed eyes at me.
I would’ve been terrified to be on the receiving end of that look if she didn’t resemble Cruella de Vil with the flour coating half her inky hair.
“Your Highness,” she gritted out, practically vibrating with fury, “I think it might be best if you and Prince Valemont go and…settle this matter somewhere else, and give everyone here the chance to”—she looked around the kitchen setup and then back to me—“clean up.”
That didn’t feel right. “No. We made the mess, so the least we can do is—”
“Leave before everyone who set up this event decides to throttle you?” She raised a powdery eyebrow, and I grimaced.
“I really am sorry.” I leaned in toward her—brave, I know—and whispered, “I just wanted to get the last throw in.”
“Yes, well, mission accomplished.” Her stern expression made me feel like a five-year-old who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I looked past her shoulder to where Gabriel was eyeing the two of us, and when he shook his head, it took everything I had not to flip him off. He wasn’t completely innocent in all of this. Sure, I might have started it, but he had definitely participated in the chaos that followed.
“Okay, we’ll step out and clean up, and be back in…?”
The look on her face said never, but finally she muttered, “Thirty minutes. I’ll have some champagne and canapes handed out to the guests and apologize for the holdup.”
I didn’t think she’d have all that much to apologize for.
The guests had been enjoying the spectacle almost as much as I had when I landed that first blow to Gabriel’s smirking face.
An image I couldn’t help but smile at now as I left the pavilion in the Sun Garden and headed toward the balcony that overlooked the Sea Gate.
This was one of my favorite views in all of Solterra. From up here you could see the old stone shipping dock where boats used to be moored, and guests who’d traveled the high seas would come to visit.
Much like one of the rakish pirates Gabriel always accused me of being.
But now it was a place where people would go to swim, or fish, or merely take in the stunning view of the Royal Yacht that was anchored by the new dock. It was spectacular, and had me itching to go down there and dive into the crystal-blue waters. That would be one way to clean up.
Actually, I had time. Why not indulge in a quick dip before heading back to kitchen wars?
I made my way toward the huge stone stairs carved into the side of the cliffs, but just as I was about to make my way down, I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Gabriel.
Of course he’d followed me. The man couldn’t seem to stay away from me.
Not that I could blame him. Last night had been nothing short of mind-blowing. But if he thought he was getting anywhere near me after the stunt he’d pulled, he could kiss my—
“Running away, Your Highness?”
I stopped and turned to face the handsome fucker. “You’d know. I’m sure a lot of people have run from you.”
“Not lately, they haven’t. Recently, they’ve invited me to their bedchambers.”