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

“You really like this girl?” said Zhi.

“Yeah.” Alex could admit to that truth. “I do.”

He looked down at the dish. It made him think of Jan; how well the sweet and the spice of the two of them paired together. Two pairings that didn’t appear to fit together, but once paired, they made perfect, palatable sense.

“We’re good together,” Alex said. “She believes in me.”

“I believe she will be good for you,” said Zhi. “You know, for a while there, I thought it was a ploy to get your inheritance.”

Instead of looking up at his friend, Alex shoveled the last bite of the dish into his mouth. The last bite was even better than the first.

“But it’s not. You’re really going to do this? You’re going to get married?”

Once upon a time, that very thought would break Alex out into hives. He had never wanted to marry. He’d always wanted to make his own way in the world. The thought settled over him now like a warm cup of tea. The thought of spending the rest of his life with Jan felt … right.

“You’ll pick me as your best man,” said Zhi. “Your brother will have your stag party at the opera.”

Alex laughed, knowing that his best friend was probably right about Leo’s party planning. But picking a best man was the least of his concerns. He had to figure out how he would convince his fake fiancée to consider giving their pretend relationship a real shot.

Chapter Twenty

“He wants to take you on a romantic getaway!” Esme’s high-pitched squeal sent a vibration through Jan’s wineglass.

“It’s not romantic.” Jan pinched the bridge between her nose to regain her sense of equilibrium. “It’s work.”

“A prince wants to whisk you away for the weekend on his private yacht to a small town in Spain for work.” Esme used air quotes. Her dark eyes sparkled with light as she stared down her best friend.

“He doesn’t need an excuse to take me anywhere. He is my fake fiancé.”

“Is that what he said?”

Jan paused in taking a sip of her wine. Alex hadn’t used the word fake in a while. He hadn’t even used the word work the other day. “He said that I was his fiancée, and he didn’t need a reason to wine and dine me.”

Esme pressed her lips together and tapped her feet to the beat of Jan’s racing heart. Her friend looked as though she were about to burst into a red heart-shaped balloon and float away.

Jan sat her wineglass down, uncertain she could manage its weight any longer. She got up and began pacing the room. They were in Esme’s waiting room. She was supposed to be interviewing more ladies-in-waiting, but she’d had them wait while she took an audience with Jan.

“It’s not like that, Essie … not really.”

Jan thought back to the other day when he’d kissed her when they were at the restaurant under fire from a photographer’s camera. She’d lied and told him the coast wasn’t clear so that she could have another taste of him. Alex hadn’t had his back to the window. They’d both been standing perpendicular to it.

But he’d asked her to look. Meanwhile, he’d only had eyes for her. He hadn’t confirmed what she’d told him. It had been as if he’d wanted a reason to keep going as much as she had.

And, oh boy, did Jan want to keep going. She’d never been kissed like that. Like she was a tasting dish, not just an amuse-bouche. She’d felt like she was the main course and dessert rolled into one. She was sure Alex kissed like that on the regular. A man didn’t get that good without practice and a lot of it.

“I don’t think it’s like that for him, Jan.”

Jan sat down and reached for her wineglass. She tipped the glass and threw it all down her throat. The burn was just what she needed. She could not fall for this man. It would be such a cliché rolled into a disaster.

A fake relationship where, over the course of events, one party falls for the other. Alex hadn’t fallen for her. She was sure of it.

Pretty sure.

Somewhat certain.

She glanced at the morning paper, and there was her proof. He’d gone out last night, and his exploits were splashed on the front page. There he was at a gentleman’s club getting a kiss on the cheek from a scantily clad dancer.

Jan’s eyes traveled down the picture. In Alex’s other hand, he held a fork. Her gaze traveled to the dish on the table before him. The picture was in color, and the plate of food looked delicious even in print. She wondered what it was? What it tasted like?