Page 23 of Royally Matched
“What?!” Duck exclaims, rising to his feet, at the same time as Father replies, “Congratulations! An excellent decision,” and I feel a mixture of happiness, foreboding, and guilt. It’s a heady cocktail, and definitelynotwhat I was expecting to feel on this momentous occasion, an agreement to become engaged to be married to the man who checks all the boxes on my list in only one month’s time.
Chapter 7
Marco
I sit in stony silence in the grand room with its imposing mahogany desk, winged high-backed leather chairs, and paintings of pastural scenes and family portraits adorning the walls as the King, Princess Sofia, and my brother discuss how Enzo and the princess plan to spend time together over the coming weeks.
It’s surreal, and not what I expected on a Tuesday morning.
My brother has quite clearly losthis mind. Although strictly speaking, he hasn’t entered an arranged marriage with the princess the way the media said would happen immediately after the ball, but he’s at least admitted he’s open to the idea.
It’s lunacy, as far as I can see. He only met Princess Sofia a few days ago, and I don’t even know how much time they actually spent together. Sure, I saw them dancing, but she danced with a few men that night.
And more to the point, why Enzo? What is it about him that Princess Sofia seems so sure of?
I study her profile as she concentrates on something the King is saying. As usual, her hair is tied up off her face, exposing her high cheekbones and wide eyes. Although her lips are not painted red today, they are just as full as they were at the ball, and the angle of her chin shows she pays attention to her posture, always aiming to look elegant and serene.
Her gaze flicks momentarily to mine, and in that flash the same feeling I had when I spoke with her at the ball spreads through me, like warm chocolate oozing from a dessert.
I’ll admit, despite her primness, her determination to appear a certain way, and the fact she appears to think Enzo is her perfect match, I feel drawn to her in a way I never would have expected. She’s Princess Sofia. She’s lived her life in the public eye, always poised and put together, never a hair out of place.
But when she looks at me? Yeah, I feel the fire between us. It’s like it’s an unspoken, unacknowledged chemistry, a heat that I felt the moment she looked at me at the ball. Without seeming arrogant, I strongly suspect she feels it, too. Which begs the question, what the heck is she doing pursing my brother?
That same sensation of jealousy I felt when I watchedEnzo and the princess dance together at the ball worms its way across my chest. I shove it away.
I’ve got no use for jealousy.
Eventually, we all shake hands, and I begrudgingly apologize for my strong reaction. Of course, I don’t mean a word of it. I’m only being polite. But this is the King and his first-born daughter, so I should at least mind my manners.
Once we’re safely back in Enzo’s car, however, I share my opinion openly.
“Have you totally lost your mind?” I ask as he drives the car through the palace gates and out onto the streets of Villadorata.
“I knew you would react like this, and the way you behaved in front of the King and his daughter was utterly unacceptable,” Enzo snaps, ignoring my question. “Surely even you must know that, Marco.”
“That is beside the point. Are you really thinking of getting engaged in a month’s time? A month is short. Only thirty or so days, and you’re going away on a business trip in the middle of it, which by my estimation leaves about two weeks tops to get to know this woman before you make one of the biggest decisions of your life.”
“I’ve given my word,” he says simply as though it’s really no big deal at all that he’s potentially signed his life away to a woman he barely knows. “And besides, we may not find we have common ground on which to base a relationship.”
“But you might.”
“Perhaps.”
“You’ve met her once in your life. Do you even know what she likes? Who she is? What makes her tick?”
“I suppose I can find all of that out in time.”
“In the four weeks you’ve got before you make your decision, you mean. What if you don’t like what you find?”
He shakes his head. “I know I will. We’re cut from the same cloth, her and I. It’s obvious to me.”
“How can you tell? You haven’t spent enough time with her to tell anything, other than she looks good in red.”
I would never say this to my brother, but Princess Sofia looksspectacularin red, like a vision from another world. A vision whose eyes are on fire when she looks my way.
“Do you think she finds you attractive?” I ask.
“Does it matter?”