Page 29 of Mistaken as His Royal Bride
Aristedes put a hand lightly at her elbow to guide her into the building where the manager waited. He was holding the door open and bowed profusely as they approached. ‘Your Majesty... Princess Laia, welcome to Paradiso.’
Even Maddi could translate that. Paradise. And it was. They were led to a table tucked discreetly to one side of the upper level, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the amazing view.
When they were sitting down, Maddi couldn’t help saying, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been to a more impressive restaurant.’
‘And you haven’t even tasted the food yet. The best the Mediterranean has to offer.’
Maddi risked a glance at Aristedes, who was the picture of casual elegance even as he exuded a masculine edge that was a reminder of the latent power sheathed in respectable clothes.
‘I presume this is an exercise in our being seen and promoting the myth that we’re getting to know one another?’
Even though he would obviously prefer to be elsewhere. With his real princess.
‘That’s exactly what this is.’
He popped an olive into his mouth.
Maddi had been aware of discreet looks from the other patrons as they’d been escorted through the restaurant. It was obviously far too elegant a place for people to rubberneck.
‘Do you resent having to do this with me?’ she asked, and then cursed herself for looking for punishment. Had she not learnt that lesson yesterday?
The King looked at her, and she felt pinned by that dark gaze. It reminded her of how it had felt when his mouth had touched her hand the day before.
A waiter appeared with dips and different breads.
Aristedes said, ‘I took the liberty of ordering for you, presuming that you’ll enjoy most of what’s on the menu.’
Maddi was about to protest that she might have liked to choose for herself, but who was she kidding? ‘Thank you. I’ll be interested to see what you think I’ll like.’
The dips and bread were all delicious, and full of flavour. Her favourite was the tomato bread with pesto sauce.
‘Try the wine.’
Maddi took a sip of red wine and closed her eyes. It tasted of sun-warmed grapes and blackcurrant. She opened her eyes again to find Aristedes staring at her.
She blushed. ‘Sorry, I get a little carried away.’
‘Maybe you should have been a chef?’
Maddi wiped her mouth. ‘I worked as a commis chef in a restaurant in Dublin once, and after seeing the pressure chefs are under, it didn’t appeal. I prefer a much less pressured environment. Like cooking for friends.’
Or her sister, who had been ridiculously impressed with Maddi’s pretty basic skills.
‘Why did you and your mother leave Isla’Rosa?’
Aristedes had slipped the question in before Maddi could really give herself time to consider it. Wonder what telling him might reveal.
Carefully, she said, ‘We left because her relationship with my father broke down. He didn’t want to be with us.’
Maddi said the words with a clipped voice, hoping Aristedes wouldn’t hear the emotion behind them.
‘That must have been hard...to leave her home and move across Europe.’
‘To a much wetter country.’ She shrugged, belying the lingering hurt for her mother’s pain. ‘I was a baby. I didn’t know any better.’
‘I’ve been to Ireland...it’s beautiful.’
Maddi looked at him. ‘You have?’ She couldn’t recall any state visits from the King—she was sure she would have remembered.