“I told you not to call me that anymore,” she quips.
He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching. “You know very well what I meant.”
I bow to him. “Your Majesty, if it would be helpful, I can take the children to the playroom so you can go be with Emily.”
Sebastian eyes me hard before he shakes his head. “No. We need you to take us to her.”
Code for: he doesn’t trust me around his children, which isn’t a surprise. This is the first time he’s meeting me.
“Yes, sir,” I reply.
“I’ll stay with the children,” Althea announces, and I was hoping Rowan would volunteer, but alas, I’m stuck with Rowan freaking standing beside me as we leave the breakfast room and head upstairs toward the parlor.
“Marcella, is it?” Rowan asks.
I dip my head toward him. “Yes, sir.” I’m using a bit of an Italian accent even though I’m speaking in French. I have since I started here because it’s what the daughter of the Russo family would have. When I met him at the wedding, I had no accent, and my French was flawless.
He chuckles. “Is that all you say? Yes, sir.”
“It seemed to be the most appropriate response to your questions.Sir.” I try not to let any bite cut into my tone, but I doubt I accomplish that.
He continues to laugh. “I suppose it is. You’re very formal.”
“Yes, sir.”
He arches an eyebrow, and I fight my smirk.
“I work for you, and you’re the prince of my country. It’s how I was raised,” I continue, playing the part. “My mother was responsible for my education. She instilled a strong sense of duty, loyalty, and love of country. Your family is one of the hallmarks of that.”
Except all of that is a lie. I don’t have a mother. Signoria doesn’t tolerate me except for when I’m useful to her, and Antonia has treated me like a slave, a servant of the house with no income, since my father died. Not to mention I never had any love for the royal family—only a deep-seated, well-ingrained hate fed to me nightly like a child’s bedtime story.
“Where are you from?” the queen asks as we make our way across the first floor toward the winding staircase on this side of the palace.
“Mordeli. It’s a small village near the Italian border,” I answer, leading the way as we reach the second level.
“Emily must think very highly of you to consider you for this level of a promotion after only four months of working here,” the king jumps in, his question more than a little pointed.
I bow toward him. “I’m very grateful to be considered, Your Majesty. Mrs. Lids has been a wonderful role model, and I’velearned so much from her. I hope she recovers quickly, and if there’s anything I can do to help you and your family during that process, I’d be honored.” I pan my hand toward the parlor. “She’s in here, Your Majesties.”
The king and queen rush into the room, but Rowan stops before entering, his gaze on mine. “Aren’t you joining us?”
“It’s customary for you to enter before I do, sir, but I felt you all might want some time alone with her.”And I’d like to get away from you.
He steps closer, standing over me, and I’m hit with the scent of his cologne. It’s the same one he wore that night, and it tickles my insides, making me want to squirm and shift. I hold steady, keeping to the role I’m playing.
His head dips toward me, making my pulse quicken. “I think we’d all prefer it if you joined us. And it’s Rowan.”
My brows scrunch. “Pardon?”
“My name. I never cared for being called ‘sir’ or ‘Your Highness,’ especially by people I interact with daily. That’s my brother. Not me. I’d like you to call me Rowan. I’d like to hear you say it.”
“Why would you want that?”
He squints. “Humor me.”
I straighten my spine, but I don’t pull away or draw back. I don’t want him to know he’s affecting me. “I don’t believe that’s appropriate, sir.”
He moves in until there are only mere inches separating us. It sets me on edge and makes my stomach flip.
