Royal Treatment (Royals of Danovar 2)

3

Eric rubbed his temples, staring at the guest list in his lap. His mother was planning a “small” gala to celebrate the opening of the royal family’s new medical funding program—so why was he holding five pages full of names? Could there really be this many scientists in the whole of Danovar?

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he murmured to his cousin, Simon.

“What are you talking about?” Simon whispered back. “You love parties.”

“I do love parties. And parties love me. That’s the problem. How am I supposed to change my old party-boy image by throwing a party for my new image?”

Across the table from them sat three members of Parliament, upper-house senators who were currently deeply engrossed in an old argument over who was the best public speaker. It had been going strong for the last ten minutes—not to mention the last two decades—so Eric figured he had at least another quarter-hour before they remembered he was supposed to be helping them plan the gala instead of complaining to Simon about it.

Simon shrugged. “Serious politicians throw parties all the time.”

Eric snorted. “You would know.” His cousin was the living embodiment of a serious politician. He was a captain in the Navy, a goodwill ambassador to Africa, and even head of the national linguistics council. Eric used to think the guy needed to take a vacation once in a while, but circumstances being what they were now, he supposed he should probably be taking lessons from him.

He pulled out his notepad, eyeing Simon surreptitiously. No jewelry except for his signet ring. Has great hair but puts too much gel in it, he added. Stock up.

His cousin raised an eyebrow. “Are you taking notes on me?”

Eric flashed a grin. “Nope.”

Simon’s hand snaked out, snatching at the notepad, but Eric was too quick. He pulled it back, smacking his cousin’s fingers away. Not before Simon got a glimpse at one of the pages, though. “Who’s Anna Fernstone?” he asked.

Eric sighed, unwillingly drawn back to what he was actually supposed to be doing right now. “Someone who needs to be added to the guest list,” he said, and pulled out his phone to text an invitation to Anna and her team. “Though she is not going to like it. She’s the head researcher on the project I’m trying to fund, and I get the feeling she’s not a fan of parties.”

“Is she pretty?”

Eric flashed back to Anna in the MRI room, glaring at him. Her brown eyes had that slight cat-eye tilt that made her look both intense and sexy as hell, and the way she’d taken off that lab coat…. “Yeah, I guess,” he answered Simon, trying to sound casual.

Simon’s lips twitched. “Uh huh,” he said, sounding like he knew exactly how many pieces of clothing Eric had been daydreaming about ripping off Dr. Anna Fernstone. With his teeth. “Someone had better tell the poor woman what trouble she’s gotten herself into,” Simon added.

“Oh, she’s not getting into any trouble at all,” Eric said mournfully. “I barely managed to get her to agree to consider accepting my money for her research. She’s not going to be dancing on a table in a bikini with me anytime soon.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not as often as you’d think.”

Simon’s lip twitched again.

“Okay, about as often as you’d think,” Eric allowed.

“Prince Eric.” The polite voice cracked across the room like a whip: Senator Burr, turning from his argument to notice the prince and his cousin bantering. “Perhaps you’d care to give us some advice on the merits of extemporaneous versus prepared speeches while fundraising?”

Eric shuffled his notes and cleared his

throat, caught off guard. His old self would have had some flippant comment about how no one ever listened to the speeches at fundraisers, and if they wanted a crowd-pleaser then they should just serve lobster and all the top-shelf booze you could drink—but the new Eric needed to take things seriously and prove himself. He scrambled to remember the finer points of rhetoric. “The, uh, extemporaneous format does have the advantages of feeling more sincere, but—a prepared speech…”

Simon covered for him smoothly. “I like to go with a mix of both, myself,” he answered. “Have some speaking points prepared, but don’t memorize the whole thing word for word. That way you keep on point but don’t sound like a robot, and there’s space to read the room and judge whether you should lean more serious or lighthearted.”

The senators’ faces went from polite masks to impressed smiles, and they nodded, murmuring. Senator Burr rose and buttoned his jacket, adjourning the meeting with a few words as Eric cursed himself. If he wanted his new image to have any chance at success he needed to get his act together.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness, that wasn’t a bad answer,” said Senator Burr on his way out, “considering you probably can’t remember the speeches from most of the galas you’ve been to, eh?” He winked.

Eric spread his hands in a what can I say? gesture, but dropped his smile as soon as the senators were gone. If Burr didn’t take him seriously, would the other members of Parliament follow suit? If he couldn’t get them on board with his bill, it would be dead in the water, and they wouldn’t believe in the bill if they couldn’t believe in him.

Simon noticed his expression. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he advised, staying behind to gather up his own notes. “Burr just gets a kick out of embarrassing people who outrank him. You’re great at public speaking out there in the real world. Everyone always thinks you’re charming.”

“Yeah,” Eric muttered. “I’m good for a good time.” Not that that would help him much in a gala full of scientists.