Chapter Eight

 

Amelia watched with admiration as Oscar enchanted her mom with stories of royal castles, glamorous parties, and the one time many years ago that the king and queen snuck their family away for a beach vacation in the South Pacific.

She pictured him dressed for a formal ball, in a fine black tuxedo, ornamented with the traditional medals and ribbons of the Prince of Montecelia. Of course, all the elegant ladies in attendance would posture and flirt in order to win his attention.

She’d wait for the right moment to arrive and enter like Cinderella, in a ball gown gifted to her by a fairy godmother. Internally, she laughed at her silly imagination. Spending too much time with Oscar revitalized all her childhood fantasies about falling in love with Prince Charming. She’d given up those dreams as an adolescent, when the realities of life had made it very clear no man would ride to her rescue.

Although, she’d never totally given up on the fantasy of romance and castles. Even named her business to capture some of the magic.

“Were you a guest at Harry and Meghan’s wedding?” Her mom walked over to the shelf that held her collection of People magazines, and after a few moments, pulled one off. After she sat back in her chair, she thumbed through the pages and then pointed to a glossy photograph of the newly married royal couple. “I remember watching the wedding on TV. Everything was so beautiful. I can only imagine what it was like in person.”

“I did attend. The entire event was amazing. Too bad I didn’t know Amelia then. I would have been honored to take her and you as my guests.” He glanced over and grinned. “The experience of attending a real royal wedding would make for great business research. Though, I doubt your wedding clients have the budget and resources to pull off something on the scale of Harry and Meghan’s wedding.”

“Likely not.” She kept to herself that her celebrity couple clients had the finances to make their upcoming wedding an extravagant affair to match the Windsors. Instead, they elected for a small, private ceremony held next month in Northern Wisconsin, close to where the bride had grown up.

Mom closed her magazine. “I cried when the royal couple kissed on the church steps. Who doesn’t love a happy ever after? Their wedding gave joy to people all over the world.”

Doris Newland, the community activist who worked tirelessly to provide for the children in her neighborhood, was not above fangirling over a prince and a royal wedding. The image made Amelia smile. Everyone deserved to believe some dreams do come true.

“How about we get started on dinner, Mom?” She glanced at Oscar, who looked like a refined gentleman, even sitting on her mom’s timeworn sofa. “What are you in the mood for?”

His grin made her weak in the knees. “I don’t want to impose any more than I already have.”

“Pish posh.” Mom shook her head. “No imposition at all. How does beef stroganoff sound?”

“Wonderful.” He rose. “I can assist, if needed. I enjoy cooking when I’m able.”

Mom waved a hand, pointing to the sofa seat he just vacated. “You and Amelia stay out here and chat. I’ll holler if I need an extra pair of hands.” She winked at Amelia, then darted into the kitchen.

Good grief. Her mom was delusional if she had any dreams of sparks flying between her and Oscar. Amelia stood and moved across the room to her mom’s chair. No need to take any chances, though. He did have a way of rattling her defenses. “The kitchen is her kingdom. You being here, eating her cooking, is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to her.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

He sent her a one-sided grin. “I’m not very exciting. I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“How can you say that? Just a few minutes ago, you had her at the edge of her seat with your stories.”

“That’s me as a royal not as a person.”

She pressed her lips together, scolding herself for forgetting once again that in his heart, this man was a unique individual, same as everyone else. Oscar was more than a title. “So tell me something about yourself that has nothing to do with being a royal.”

He furrowed his brow, appearing to contemplate the question. “I spent a summer in the south of France, learning how to cook from a master chef. His restaurant is set in the countryside, and the majority of his meat and produce is supplied by either his farm or locals.”

“What made you want to learn how to cook in France?” She reclined back in the chair, fascinated. Oscar was a piñata full of surprises.

“I desired to learn from the best, and Chef Berger was—is—the best farm to table chef in the world.”

Today, Oscar dressed in tan pants and a sky blue button-down shirt. He’d slipped off his boat shoes at the door and left them sitting on the mat. She set a mental reminder to take him shopping soon for a few pairs of jeans and some T-shirts. Maybe if he didn’t look so sophisticated and stylish all the time, she’d stop feeling like a puppy love-struck teenager. “If you cooked me one meal, what would you make?”

He tapped a finger on his chin. “Bouillabaisse, a type of fish stew. Made with fresh ingredients, it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Sounds delicious.” A clatter sounded in the kitchen, followed by a call out that everything was okay. Amelia got up to check anyway and found her mom picking up a stock pot from the kitchen floor. “You need help?”

She shooed Amelia away. “I’m fine, just a little excited. Go keep our guest company until dinner’s ready.”

Mom gave her a gentle push on the back toward the doorway, causing Amelia to stumble forward into the living room. She considered returning to her spot on the sofa next to Oscar but instead seated herself on the chair. “What else can you tell me about yourself?”

“I’ll share one more thing, but then I must ask a favor of you in return.” He laughed.

She was so grateful for his help at RWI, she’d do almost anything. While he handled the tasks of office manager, she’d been freed up to refocus on her clients, as well as defend against Elegant Engagements’ attempt to steal both her employees and customers. “I’m happy to help, Oscar. What’s the favor?”

He rolled up one shirtsleeve then the other, showing off tan forearms sprinkled with dark hair. “The truth is…I have no idea how to clean my clothes. The rental agent said there’s a thing called a washing machine and dryer in the flat, but they look like alien technology.”

“You’ve never had to wash your own clothes?” No big revelation coming from a prince. “You can send your clothes out.”

“I have a list of shops that will pick up my shirts, pants, and jackets then deliver them back cleaned and pressed.” He paused. “But I’m concerned about the rest…undergarments, shorts, and the like.”

“Ohhhh.” Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Of course, she felt heat burn her cheeks. “You’re asking for laundry lessons?”

“If you find the request acceptable.” His dark eyes held her gaze.

Her strong wall of professional distance crumbled. How could she say no? “Okay, I’ll teach you. When were you thinking?”

“Perfect.” He clapped his hands. “I’m hoping for tonight.”

Holding on tight while a hurricane of attraction swirled around her, she wished to get through the night without doing anything foolish.

~ * ~

Dinner was lovely. Oscar enjoyed Doris’s company and was fascinated with her work with the children in her community. He’d received not only good food but a fresh outlook on the struggles of living in poverty. For most, too many obstacles stood in the way of escaping. And for many of the children who lived in Doris’s neighborhood, too many rungs had been removed from the ladder of success. They were left at the bottom, unable to climb upward toward meaningful employment and a fulfilling life. He left feeling inspired to find ways to help.

When the time came to say goodbye, he kissed Doris on the cheek, promising to return soon. Since Amelia offered him a ride home, he climbed into the passenger seat of her car.

“We’ll need to stop at the store and get laundry soap if you don’t have any.” Amelia pressed the button to start the engine.

“A plastic bottle of something called laundry detergent is sitting on the shelf above the washer, waiting for someone who knows how to use it.” He pulled the seatbelt across his body and clicked it into place.

Admitting that he didn’t know how to work a washing machine was uncomfortable but not embarrassing. He’d been raised with staff to do the daily household tasks. Even his villa had several men and women employed to care for his personal needs and the estate. Now, he was eager to learn something new, as well as spend additional time with Amelia outside of work.

She parked her car in the garage beside her apartment, then they walked the seven blocks to his building. Twilight colored the sky a dusty midnight blue. The air held warmth from earlier in the day. Seagulls squawked and hopped around on the small patches of grass, competing for any bits of tossed out food.

Inhaling, he caught the slightly fishy scent of the nearby lake. The smell brought to life some of his fondest memories with his father while boating on the pond by their country manor. His father would toss him a fishing rod and declare a fishing contest. Soon, they stopped counting the fish caught and became lost in talk of sports, culture, and politics. Oscar thought of those as lessons in disguise, from a king to a boy who’d become one someday.

His chest constricted picturing his father’s smile as they sat on the water under the warm Montecelian sun. He’d give away everything for another chance to speak with him and ask his advice.

Under the soft glow of streetlights, Amelia strolled beside him on the sidewalk. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“Pardon?” He stopped at an intersection and waited for the light to turn green. Cars rumbled by. Across the street, a series of picture windows set in a brick building showcased the interior of a restaurant filled with diners and busy waitstaff.

“A penny for your thoughts is an expression. You looked sad.” She gave him a slight smile. “Doing your own laundry isn’t that bad. Promise. You’ll be a pro in no time.”

The streetlight changed to green, and he grasped her hand before moving onto the crosswalk painted on the street. A group of people passed, heading in the opposite direction and leaving a cloud of laughter in their wake.

“I was thinking about my family. About my father,” he admitted. “I wish we had more time together.”

“You must miss him a lot.” She stepped over the curb and back onto the sidewalk. “He’d be proud of you for what you’re trying to accomplish.”

He reluctantly released his hold on her hand. The contact felt too good. “A better belief than he’d be disappointed for my shortcomings, leading the country to question the need for a monarchy.”

“Like I said before, whatever your country decides has more to do with social change than any one person representing an outdated political system.” She slowed her pace and glanced at him.

“You might be correct, but I have not acted like a future king.” He reached the front door of his building and pressed in the code to unlock the door. As he held the door, Amelia entered, and he followed her inside. “I’m not the flashy, media savvy prince everyone desires. I don’t particularly enjoy the spotlight, and I’d rather spend an evening reading than attend a gathering spent in small talk with strangers.”

“All that means is your human, Oscar.” She reached the elevator. “You’re allowed to be human.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.” When the elevator door slid opened, he entered. “Enough talk of sad topics. Jerel invited me to accompany him golfing on Saturday. Should I accept his offer?”

“Totally. That is, if you like to golf.” She fidgeted with the handles of her purse, looking everywhere but at him.

“I do.” Oscar, in contrast, couldn’t keep his gaze off her. As they stood side by side in the small space of the elevator, he swatted away the murmur of temptation.

They arrived at the seventh floor, and the chime preceded the opening of the doors.

“Now that I know you can cook, I may hit you up for a meal every once in a while. I’m beyond useless in the kitchen.” She peered at him under hooded blue eyes. “What other hidden talents are you hiding?”

He slid his key into the front door of his flat then paused. “Let’s save that for another night. If I give away all my secrets, I’ll no longer be a man of mystery.”

Amelia snorted a laugh. “You’re a prince, not a secret agent.” Standing in the entryway, she glanced around the space. “Very nice. Perfect for a short-term residence.”

Her floral scent filled the air, and his body flushed with heat. “The view is adequate. Obviously better in the daylight.” He strode to the floor to ceiling wall of windows and slid open a section leading onto the patio. The breeze did little to cool him. “Am I living up to your expectations as your employee?”

“Definitely.” She walked onto the patio and leaned against the railing. “You learn quickly and have taken a lot off my plate. I’m very grateful you agreed to come work for RWI.”

“A mutually beneficial arrangement.” He glanced at the twinkling lights of the city spread out below. “What made you decide to become a wedding planner?”

“It was an accident, really.” She cocked her head, gazing off into the distance. “I’d just graduated college and was hesitant placing my future into the hands of someone else. I don’t like being beholden to people…it gives them power over you.” Amelia breathed out a sigh. “A friend asked for my help planning her wedding, and I enjoyed the creative and logistical challenge. That fall, I ordered business cards, and Royal Weddings Incorporated was born.”

His assessment of her grew, knowing she’d started her business with nothing but hard work and talent. “An amazing accomplishment.”

“Even when I doubted myself and my sanity for starting a business, my mom has always been my biggest cheerleader.” Her face relaxed, and the corners of her mouth lifted. “She’s the most wonderful woman, and I owe her so much more than I can ever repay.”

“I enjoyed meeting your mum. She’s pretty cool.” He grinned when she laughed. “Did I say that right?”

“Yes. She’d love hearing that, and I think she kinda likes you.” Amelia bumped him with her hip. “She would probably do all your laundry, if you asked.”

“I should learn to do my own.” Needing a moment to catch his breath, he returned inside the flat. “The washer and dryer are this way.” He brought her to the utility room placed beside the guest bathroom.

While she studied the washer and dryer, he studied her. A stray curl of brunette hair stuck to her temple, and he brushed it away. The sensation of electricity tingled through his finger when it skimmed over her skin. All background noise faded until the only thing he heard was the pounding of his heart. His gaze dropped to her lips. The urge to kiss her grew painful.

“Oops.” A crash sounded. Amelia bent over to grab the plastic bottle of laundry soap she’d knocked onto the floor. “Luckily the cap didn’t come off, otherwise I’d have to clean up sixty-ounces of liquid soap. Not fun.” Her cheeks blushed crimson.

She must have been aware of his intentions. He’d almost kissed her. Amelia was becoming a real friend, and he’d acted like a scoundrel. “I’m sure you’re eager to get home after a long day. A few brief instructions will be fine, and I can manage on my own.”

She blinked, staring at him, lips parted. “Okay.” She swiveled her head to look once again at the buttons on the washing machine. “It’s all fairly easy.”

As she hurried through the finer points of sorting by color, water temperature selection, spin cycle, and quantity of soap, he kept his attention on the task at hand. Not on the delicate arch of her neck as she craned forward to read the dial. Or the two small birthmarks on her jawline, right under her earlobe.

When he possessed a working knowledge of cleaning one’s clothing, he escorted her home—the majority of the trip made in silence. He waited outside her building until he was sure she was safely through the lobby. Oscar stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his pants and slowly strolled the streets, eventually returning to his flat.

Amelia was his boss, an American, and too valuable a person to be pulled into his complicated world. He promised that from this moment on, he’d stay focused on work and not become distracted by glimpses of Amelia sitting at her desk across the hall.

If he could contain his attraction for the upcoming weeks while working at Royal Weddings Incorporated, he might finish his employment without getting fired.