The Prince and the Pie Maker (The Rebel Royals 2)

“I’m surprised you’ve been here so long, your highness,” said the Duke of Ebra. “You’re typically off at some party or concert with a super model or two.”

That wasn’t entirely false. Alex did party but typically when said party was at a restaurant with a dish he wanted to try. Concerts were less h

is thing. It was more and more the food trucks parked outside the concerts that were Alex’s jam. He’d stopped dating supermodels years ago when they demurred from wanting to go out to restaurants and try fat-filled, full cream, carb-loaded dishes without substitutions. Alex loathed any diner with the gall to ask a chef to change his or her vision for the food put on the plate.

The duke continued without waiting for Alex’s reply. Few people were actually interested in his replies. Most had a prescribed opinion of the Prince of Cordoba, and they had no interest in substitutions where Alex was concerned.

“You must be glad your brother has found a bride,” said the duke. “Otherwise, the duties of state would’ve fallen to you if he had no male heir.”

“That is a rule my brother is looking to change,” said Alex. “Gender will no longer be a requirement of succession. So, the country is quite safe from my rule.”

The duke jerked back with distaste at the announcement. He looked down the table to where Leo leaned over and spoke into Esme’s ear. “Still, I suppose you will be marrying soon, regardless. Your brother can change the laws of succession, but he can’t change the terms of your inheritance.”

“Who shall the lucky girl be?” The Viscount of Jucar joined in on the conversation.

“I had believed Lady Brie of Baetica was your intended,” said the duke.

Alex carved a piece of the duck and placed it into his mouth. Still as chewy as dry steak. He reached past his wine glass for his mug and sipped his tea. He knew he wasn’t needed for the conversation.

People talked about him. People talked over him. People talked behind his back all his life.

No one bothered to find out what he really thought, what he actually did, or who he truly was. It was far more interesting to categorize him as the playboy prince or the restless spare. It was a role thrust upon him by the media. He’d been content to play it so long as it afforded him a place at the various tables around the world where he could try new and exciting dishes. The attention from the women hovering about his chair was nice, so long as they didn’t interrupt until the last bite.

The talk about him continued around the table. As always, Alex wasn’t interested. His attention was on the chocolate dessert being placed on the table. Just one whiff of the sweet concoction and he was disappointed. He knew before he bit into it that the moist block of cake that it would be a saccharin soiree.

Sugar needed a partner to temper it. He wished the cook had added cayenne to the dessert. It would’ve given it a mighty and unexpected kick. Alex had learned that trick from an unassuming baker. Her food had packed a punch; a punch he could still taste on the tip of his tongue.

Jan had been the only chef whose dish he’d wanted to try again and again. It was because she added another spice to her leftovers before the second helping. She’d be back in a few weeks for the wedding festivities. Esme had insisted that her best friend bake the pies for the wedding. Alex’s mouth watered in anticipation.

Alex pushed the dessert to the side. “Would you gentlemen excuse me?”

Everyone around him nodded but made no plea for him to stay. No one expected him to sit still. They expected him to go off and make a ruckus that they would read about in tomorrow’s papers and then say they were with him before it happened.

“Where are you off to?” asked Leo as Alex made his way toward the exit.

“Devilry and debauchery are calling, so I must heed it.”

Leo shook his head but said nothing. Alex knew that Leo was the one soul he could count on in this world. But he also knew that even Leo couldn’t see, or simply wasn’t interested in, Alex’s true nature.

Esme reached out and opened her arms to Alex. Alex went willingly, uncaring of the unfashionable display of emotion that royals were not supposed to engage in. Hugging his soon to be sister-in-law in front of a room of dignitaries would be frowned on. Which should have been reason enough for Alex to do it. But he simply liked the affection Esme showed openly.

“Don’t burn anything down.” She winked at him.

He’d only known Esme for a month. But he was certain the former teacher knew exactly what he was up to.

“I make no promises,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

He didn’t head out. He headed to his apartments in the castle. Nestled in his private quarters, Alex had had a state-of-the-art kitchen installed for his eighteenth birthday.

He opened his fridge. There were no leftovers inside the chilled box. Alex didn’t believe in leftovers. He made just enough food for himself. He never cooked for anyone. Aside from Jan. But he had assisted her in her vision, not his own

He pulled out the ingredients for a chocolate cake. He made sure to put in a pinch of cayenne. While he waited for the cake to bake, he pulled out a notebook.

It was the plans for a restaurant. There were schematics for the kitchen and seating area along with a menu of fusion foods from his travels far and away. It was just a dream, but one he liked to indulge in from time to time.

He’d spoken the dream aloud exactly once. But the girl he’d told his vision to had frowned at him, and Alex had dropped the subject immediately. He planned never to speak of it again. But there he was looking at the plans and thinking of her.

The oven timer went off, and Alex pulled out the tray. Ever impatient, he sliced into the dish before letting it cool. He did take heed to blow on the morsel on his fork before plopping it into his mouth.