The Prince's Bride (Part 1) - J.J. McAvoy Page 0,69
a wig on the Prince of Ersovia,” I asked, rubbing my arm, still giving him a side-eye.
“I may have almost gotten caught,” he answered for her. “Apparently, the Clark Kent disguise does not work close up.”
“What is considered almost?”
“Ersovian tourists at the Space Needle saw him and said he looked almost exactly like their prince.” My mom snickered. “A few of them even wanted pictures.”
“The one day I go out to sightsee, and I run into a whole tourist bus of my own people. The odds of that should be like zero to a million.” He frowned, and I wanted to laugh because he kind of looked like a kid getting a haircut he didn’t want from his mom.
“And now his bodyguard refuses to let him go back out in public again. So, I’m helping him with a disguise. What do you think?” She took a step back, running her hand through his new fake hair, but even still, it sort of bothered me. “I’ve still got it, don’t I?” She handed him a mirror.
“Oh, my God.” He snickered and reached up to touch it. “I can barely tell the difference. You are good at this.”
“Before I married her father, and before I was a beauty queen, I helped in my mom’s beauty shop.” She leaned in closer and snipped another piece.
“Iskandar. Wolfgang. What do you think?” he asked, and I turned back to see them both pause from cleaning the living room to look.
Again, what in the world had happened over the last few days?
“I like it, sir.” Wolfgang nodded, giving a thumbs-up to my mother. “You are gifted, ma’am.”
“Thank you, but what did I tell you about calling me ma’am?” she snapped at him.
“Sorry...Wilhelmina.” He really struggled with getting that first name out.
“Shoulder-length hair is against palace protocol. It will work as a disguise,” Iskandar said. His face was still as stoic as I remembered.
However, at least that meant I wasn’t in an alternate reality. We all just stared at him.
Iskandar noticed our expressions before clearing his throat and adding, “The application was well done.”
My mom and I snickered. Facing forward, I saw Gale focusing on me now.
“And you? What do you think?” Gale questioned.
Your face can pull off any hairstyle, apparently. But I said, “It looks good. But are you really comfortable with this?”
“Yes, why?”
Why? “Most guys would rather just be bald than getting caught wearing a hairpiece.”
“Maybe American men or normal men. However, I grew up in a palace, remember? Most of the images that hang on our walls are men in wigs. Besides, it was either this or let Iskandar chain me to your apartment until you returned to free me.” He chuckled as my mother took off the apron and dusted off his shoulders. “I was close to going mad. So, I gave in and called your mother.”
“And she told you to come over today? At this exact time?” I asked, crossing my arms and looking to the woman still playing matchmaker as she carefully examined her styling tools.
“Yes, I was not aware you would be returning now. We’ll leave—”
“No,” I said quickly—a little too quickly—and wanted to kick myself. “What I mean is...” What did I mean?
“She means why don’t you stay for dinner,” my mother cut in.
I shot her a glare, and she just shot one back.
“Only if it is all right with Odette,” he said, waiting for me.
They all were. Iskandar and Wolfgang, too—desperately.
“Fine. Why do you look like you haven’t eaten for days?” I asked, laughing.
Wolfgang smiled sheepishly. “We haven’t had a good homecooked meal in days. The restaurant food here is so greasy—”
“Thank you for the invitation, miss,” Iskandar cut in.
“Wait, you all have been eating out every day? For breakfast, lunch, and dinner?” I asked, and they all just nodded.
“Yes, all restaurants by your place, so it was not a problem,” Gale replied, but he gave Wolfgang a stern look. “And the food was perfectly adequate.”
“Do none of you know how to cook?”
“Iskandar can make some breakfast foods,” Gale answered but then shrugged. “Wolfgang is almost as unless as I am. You remember my last attempt at cooking.”
Yes, the burn marks would most likely like still be on my stove to prove it. “Was that your first time in a kitchen?”
“Of course not.”
I gave him a look, not believing him and causing him to frown.
“Iskandar, tell her I have been in a kitchen. I can see her judging me right now.”