The King and the Kindergarten Teacher (The Rebel Royals 1)

“True love isn’t afforded people like us,” Teresa was saying. “As I said, I’ve learned to make good partnerships in business. I believe those skills will translate nicely to marriage. I say we have a few more meetings about our families’ needs, we can call a few of them dates, and see if we can’t come to a lifelong agreement.”

It was exactly what Leo knew was the right thing. It was likely how his parents had arranged his first marriage. So, what was holding him back from sealing this deal right on the spot?

Leo looked up and saw a flash of … something. Or someone. He thought he’d seen someone standing in the entry hall way, but all of his g

uests had arrived. In another blink of an eye, the flash was gone.

“This weekend is Cordoba’s Union Day?”

“Yes,” said Leo, coming back to the conversation that could unite the generations in his country. “Why don’t you plan a visit to Cordoba to see the festivities?”

“Sounds lovely.”

They sat for a moment, both grinning politely at each other. Suddenly, Leo’s jaw felt tired. He needed a moment to relax it. “Would you excuse me? I’m going to go check on my daughter and say good night.”

Chapter Eight

Coming into the Waldorf Astoria, the same hotel where a maid played by Jennifer Lopez ran into a billionaire played by Ralph Fiennes in Maid in Manhattan, the same hotel where Al Pacino sniffed out love in Scent of a Woman, the same hotel where Eddie Murphy came to America, Esme realized something. She was woefully underdressed.

She’d worn the very best dress she had. It was a step above a cocktail dress hanging below her knees and brushing her ankles. But it was a step below prom dress with a plunging neckline. Only because she’d had it altered after she’d worn it to prom for a college cocktail party. And then again, for a teacher’s union gala.

The neckline dropped a bit more with each alteration. Plunging might be the wrong word, but the casual onlooker definitely got the message that she was working with a little something-something on her chest. Not that she was actually working with much.

The dress was princess cut with long seams that stitched together to fit her form. It was a deep garnet color. That deep red had always made Esme think of royalty over the traditional blue or purple. Maybe because it was the color of blood and the path to royalty always came with bloodshed. At least in the history books, maybe not the storybooks.

She’d worn her best jewelry. It was mostly of the costume variety, but the necklace she wore was real. That was because there was only one jewel. A garnet the same color as her dress. It was her most expensive look. And it was not enough.

She’d come into the hotel behind a woman dressed in a gown straight out of Cosmopolitan. It was clear her jewels were real. She didn’t smell of floral soap; she smelled of cinnamon. Likely an expensive perfume that wasn’t over the counter. It was probably mixed especially for her.

The woman had been allowed entry into the elevator that went up to the penthouse where the royals of Cordoba were staying. Esme had been held back instead of heading directly up to the royal suite. The concierge had checked her credentials twice. Then dialed up to the royal suite and had a long conversation with someone on the other end of the line. Ten minutes later, finally, she was allowed up.

When the elevator hit the top floor, Esme’s belly was in knots. Likely from the altitude. When the doors opened, her belly dropped.

She’d been hoping to find Leo on the other side, guarding the royals within. She’d given her name and hoped he’d remembered and would be there on the other side of the doors to greet her. Instead, she found his friend Giles. Giles did not look happy to see her.

“Hi,” Esme waved. “Remember me from the pie shop? Well, after the pie shop, I met the princess and—“

But Giles had already turned on his heel during her verbal diarrhea. “The staff has finished serving dinner.”

“Oh. Am I late?”

Giles turned, finally looking at her. The look he gave her said he thought she was addled in the brain. “You’ll keep to the kitchen area. Your lesson will be only an hour. The princess has a strict schedule to keep.”

“A five-year-old has a strict schedule?”

“Bed time.”

“Oh. Of course. It’s just, I thought we were having dinner?”

He turned again, with a sneer this time. “From what I understand, you’re here to teach fractions to Princess Penelope. Nothing more.”

“Right. Of course.”

They passed by the dining room, but the door was only open a crack so Esme couldn’t see into it. Esme could hear the chatter and clink of wine glasses. The smell of expensive food wafted out. She hadn’t eaten in anticipation of a few courses. Her stomach grumbled.

Giles turned back to her. His gaze fell down to her belly as though the singular organ had offended him.

“Sorry,” said Esme.