Page 42 of Royally Matched
Enzo leans in and says, “I am sorry about my brother putting you off like that. It’s unacceptable. I’m going to have some stern words with him on your behalf.”
Try having some stern words with yourself while you’re at it.
I don’t say it. That might be a conversation for another time.
I glance over at Marco, who has now struck up a conversation with several of the art crowd, all of whom look to be enjoying themselves with him. How can he turn up here in his gardening clothes, interrupt the formal proceedings, and still manage to charm them all, while the man I’ve chosen to be here with me today has done his best to offend everyone, myself included?
I watch in stunned silence as Marco tells a story about a worm, making the people around him laugh, all of them hanging on his every word as though they’ve bought tickets to the Marco Revera Show.
Meanwhile, Enzo is standing rigidly at my side, not saying a word, and certainly not charming anyone.
I couldn’t get a more stark comparison between the two brothers if I tried. One of them looks the part, but offends people, and the other looks like he belongs on a farm, but manages to charm everyone.
Marco flashes his smile at me, and instantly my breath catches, despite the fact that he’s so very far from the sort of man I know I should be with. And yet I find myselfdrawn more and more to his easy nature, his good looks, and his zest for life.
But I’ve made my choice, and my choice is not Marco. He wouldn’t check any boxes on my prized spreadsheet. He’s younger than me, he’s led a life of adventure and irresponsibility, and he wants to be a gardener. Okay, a landscape gardener, which sounds very grand but when it boils down to it, it’s just the same thing.
No. No matter how attracted to him I am, no matter how easy it is to talk to him, no matter how much I want to let my guard down around him, Marco Revera is not the man for me. I’ve had enough. Whatever I do, however I manage it, I must stamp all my inappropriate feelings toward him out once and for all.
Chapter 12
Marco
The garden party is in full swing in the palace gardens, and I’m actually enjoying the pleasant hum of conversation and the soft notes of the string quartet, floating on the late spring breeze. The gardens look immaculate, of course, with high hedging surrounding us on all sides, grass under foot, and a picturesque arbor covered in flowers, under which Princess Sofia is currently talking with Enzo.
A passing waiter offers me a scone covered in jam and cream, and I thank himas I take a bite.
“Rather splendid, aren’t they?” a booming voice says, and I look up to see King Frederic giving me a tight smile.
“Your Majesty,” I say with a bow. “Yes, they’re delicious. Have you tried one?” I lick a blob of cream from my thumb.
“I meant your brother and my daughter, dear boy,” he replies gruffly.
“Sure. Yes. Splendid,” I agree, because the last time I saw the King I was busy questioning his judgement in throwing these two together.
“Sir, can I say how sorry I am for the way I spoke in front of you that time? I was blindsided and hadn’t thought things through.”
“If you had, would you have offered a different opinion?”
I think about it for a moment. “No.”
He raises his brows. “At least you’re honest. Not a bad quality in a man.”
“Thank you.”
The waiter returns with fresh scones with jam and cream and the King takes one from the tray. “Let’s see if they’re as good as you say.” He takes a bite, some of the cream sticking to his mustache.
“Your verdict, sir?” I ask.
His lips lift. “Delicious.”
I grin. “At least we can agree on that.”
“How are you finding life back in Ledonia? I understand you've been travelling.”
“I spent quite a number of years travelling the world. I had a lot of amazing experiences, but as they say, there's no place like home.”
He gives me an approving look. “I knew the other Lord Strozzi. Your father.”