A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,35
best interests at heart intruding.”
Once again, it was Marie’s obvious chagrin that kept Leo from saying something snarky. And the truth was, this guy was right to be suspicious. Marie was charming, lovely, rich, and royal—a combination that was bound to attract grifters or worse. So he emptied his pockets—he didn’t have a bag like Dani and Gabby did.
“I’m sorry,” Marie said again.
“Don’t worry about it. Your butler is only doing his job.” And, yeah, he used the wrong word on purpose.
“I’ll have you know that I am in fact equerry to the king of Eldovia,” the man said.
Leo just smirked. The bodyguard had finished his examination of everyone’s bags and nodded at Mr. Benz, who performed the tiniest of eye rolls.
Leo was back to being annoyed.
“Ma’am, we will be in the adjoining room if you have need of us,” said Mr. Benz.
The bodyguard handed her a small box with a button. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, a panic button?
The men retreated, and there was a beat of awkward silence, but Dani, bless her, covered it by saying, “What a beautiful suite. May I have a look at the view?”
“Please do.” Marie waved them deeper into the suite. “I took the liberty of ordering tea to be served here. I thought it might be more comfortable than in the Palm Room.”
She was looking at Gabby as she spoke, and Gabby’s reaction to the suite suggested she’d made the right call.
Leo had to agree. It was insane. Enormous, to begin with. Easily bigger than their entire apartment and Dani’s put together. Full of fabrics and light fixtures and wall treatments that telegraphed restrained, old-world luxury. Fit for a princess, one might say.
Once they’d finished admiring the view of Central Park and beyond, they gathered around a coffee table in a sumptuous living area. Leo had had the vague idea that when a princess proposed “tea,” it didn’t mean just tea. He had expected finger sandwiches, maybe. And to be fair, there were finger sandwiches—several dozen of them on a tower of plates. But there were also cakes and cookies. Deviled eggs, olives, and nuts. A cluster of teapots sat to one side, each flanked by a card identifying its contents: Earl Grey tea, peppermint tea, coffee, and hot chocolate. On ice was a bottle of champagne, a decanter of lemonade, and—God bless the princess—several bottles of some kind of fancy craft beer.
“Oh. My. God,” Gabby said.
Dani, who was standing behind Marie, who had moved to sit, mouthed the same thing at Leo, making an exaggerated face of astonishment.
After they were settled in with their tiny, perfect foods and their beverages of choice—Leo was double-fisting it with coffee and beer—Marie turned to Dani and said, “So it’s Dr. Martinez. Are you a physician?”
“No, no. Not that kind of doctor. I have a PhD. I’m an English professor at Fordham.”
“I minored in English literature myself.”
Wow. And that was in addition to the engineering major.
“What is your particular area of expertise?” Marie asked Dani. She seemed pleased to have found this thing in common, but she was being weirdly stiff. He would have thought she’d have become more comfortable once her handlers disappeared.
“Early-twentieth-century American literature by women,” Dani said.
“I’m afraid I’m not very well read in that area, but I did very much enjoy The Age of Innocence.”
“I did my PhD dissertation on Wharton! Particularly on representations of women and work in her novels. And I’m working on a book now on Kate Chopin.”
Well. This party was going to be a total snooze, then, was it? Leo sighed and took a long pull on his beer—he’d declined a glass and was drinking straight from the bottle, not caring that that probably wasn’t “done” at high tea. For some absurd reason, being confronted with so much visual evidence of the economic gulf between Marie and him compelled him to double down on expressing his working-class roots. He looked around the room, only half listening as Dani and Marie talked and Gabby inhaled so many miniature cupcakes she would be up half the night.
Until Marie dropped a little bomb: “How long have you two been together?”
Together? What? Who was she talking about?
Then Dani started laughing, and he figured it out.
“We’re not . . .” Leo couldn’t even finish the sentence, so he waved his hand back and forth between himself and Dani and shook his head.
Dani joined in the nonverbal denial, shaking her head, too, but she was still laughing as she did so.