Page 27 of Royally Matched

Fabiana Fontaine xx

#KnightToTheRescue

#PitifulPrincessBanished

#BesottedPrincessVibes

Amelia leans her elbows on the breakfast table, pouring over one of the newspapers that are always set out on the buffet for us to read each morning. “But you’re not engaged to this guy, are you?”

“Of course not,” I reply.

“But he saved you from a drunkard who tried to propose to you?”

An image of Marco, swooping in to my rescue, fills my mind. I clear my throat. “Who?”

“Enzo Revera. The man you and Father met with.”

“Oh, Enzo?” I ask, not meeting her eye. “That was someone else.”

“Well, according to Fabiana Fontaine, you’re about to announce your engagement to this mystery knight in shining armor of yours.”

“What does she know?” I snap.

“All right. Keep your hair on,” she replies, shooting me a look. “Show me a pic of Enzo, then.”

“I don’t have one,” I admit.

She widens her eyes. “You don’t have a photo of the man you plan on announcing your engagement to in a month’s time?”

I glare at her. “I’ll get one.”

“Leave your sister alone,” Mummy instructs as Max bangs into the room.

“Morning all,” he says as he makes a beeline for the breakfast spread.

“Morning, darling,” Mummy coos.

“I’m going to look this Enzo Revera person up.” Amelia collects her phone from the table and begins to search.

“Do you have to?” I groan.

“I do. Oh, I found him.” She furrows her brow. “Are you sure he’s only twenty-nine?”

“Looks a lot older,” Max sniffs as he takes a seat at the table next to her, plunking his plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the crisp white tablecloth.

“I believe he is,” I reply, aware that his receding hairline and more mature features make him look older than his actual age.

“That’s still young,” Mummy says with a smile thrown my way. “Young and vital.”

“Exactly,” I reply.

Personally, I see the fact Enzo looks older than me asnothing but positive. It means he’s mature. Worldly wise. And beside him, I’ll look younger by comparison. It’s a win-win-win.

“Hmmm.” Amelia presses her lips together.

“What does ‘hmmm’ mean?” I ask, and instantly regret it. Amelia loves to offer her opinion on my personal life, and I just opened the gates for her and left them swinging. Again.

This has become a bad habit.