A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,115

used to. She tried a new strategy: cheerfully concurring. Yes, her mother had been so graceful and lovely. Yes, it was remarkable that Marie had chosen to study engineering instead of a more traditional field like history or literature. She was happy to agree with her former tormenter because she realized suddenly that none of what this woman said mattered. None of it was true, and more to the point, Marie had people in her life who knew that. Who saw the real her.

No, the excruciating part was the interminable wait until it was time to put their plan into motion.

“Now?” she whispered to Max as they watched her father get up from his table—he was at one closer to the front with Max’s parents and some other senior nobles and parliamentarians. He was headed for the dais where he would traditionally make a toast to open the dancing. She and Max had hypothesized that this was where the big announcement would come.

“Yes. Now.” Max rose and pulled her up with him. He was going to talk to his parents while Marie intercepted her father—a simultaneous, two-pronged attack at a moment where appearances were important—to their parents, at least. “Break a leg, M,” Max whispered, and he was gone.

Her legs quivered but she forced herself forward, suddenly worried that they hadn’t timed it right, that her father would beat her to the dais.

She had to get there first. Her father was wending his way through the tables, stopping every now and then to return a greeting someone made as he passed. She decided to take a shortcut through the empty dance floor.

The click of her heels on the parquet floor thundered in her ears. Marie had no idea what she was going to say. She had decided that rather than rehearse a speech, she would speak from the heart. She hadn’t taken into account that the organ in question was going to feel like it might pound out of her chest. She hitched her floor-length skirts up so she could pick up the pace without stepping on them. Adrenaline made her clumsy, though. Adrenaline and high heels. As she reached the center of the dance floor, she stumbled. Pitched forward awkwardly but managed to right herself after a few lurching steps.

She heard gasps. She was drawing attention. “Oh my god!” she heard someone exclaim. All right, yes, she was embarrassing herself, but really, who cared? She took a fortifying breath and continued toward the front.

The expressions of shock from the crowd continued. “Can you believe it?” she heard someone murmur as she passed. She was starting to get annoyed. So she’d stumbled. It wasn’t a crime.

“Look at him!” came another voice.

Look at him? Was Max drawing attention, too?

Marie turned, looking for the source of everyone’s marveling and—

All the air whooshed out of her lungs. She was getting that floaty feeling again, like at the UN. Like she was full of helium and if she wasn’t very careful and very deliberate, she might take flight, just float up to the chandelier above her head that was functioning like a spotlight. Because there was Leo, perched halfway down the majestic, red-carpeted staircase at the front of the ballroom.

How surprising. But also how not surprising. Wasn’t Leo always there when she needed him? He looked extremely annoyed—which made her smile, because he looked so much like himself, despite the very un-Leo-esque tuxedo he was wearing. He scanned the crowd, either not realizing or not caring that everyone was all aflutter about his sudden appearance, until his gaze landed on her.

The room went quiet. It was as if they were watching a movie, and they all knew they’d reached the denouement. “Would you care to dance?” Leo’s voice echoed across the vast space between them, but it was low and sure. As if his question was mundane and not the most remarkable thing anyone had ever asked her.

“Yes,” she said, her voice also sounding remarkably steady. “Yes, I would.”

The music started before either of them moved. It was the same song they’d practiced to. She spared a glance for the band—and found Mr. Benz standing behind the bandleader.

How extraordinary.

Leo started coming down the stairs, and he looked exactly like he had two days ago, after the snowball fight. He looked like a predator. He also looked like a prince.

The tuxedo he was wearing was free of adornment. Leo Ricci didn’t do adornment. He didn’t have to. It was more the way he carried himself,