Page 23 of Royal Cocktail

For a moment, she thought she saw heat flare in those ice-blue eyes. But it faded as quickly as it came, and she convinced herself it was only her imagination. “An education,” he said. “Talking points. A plan. I want to go back home with the framework of a proposal I can present to Parliament. A plan for amending our constitution, as well as a rationale to support the proposal.”

She nodded slowly. “Why?”

“Considering you wrote that paper, I imagine you already know.”

“My paper wasn’t specific to Avelle-am-see.”

Technically, that was true. But as he studied her face, she was certain he knew exactly what had prompted her to choose an international law topic for her Law Review article.

To his credit, he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he simply said, “In my country, the monarch stands as head of the executive branch. A king who resembles your president, but with a bit more power, though it is balanced by the role and rights of the parliament.

She nodded. She already knew all of that, of course. It was amazing how much learning your ex-boyfriend was really a playboy prince could lead a girl down dozens of rabbit trails of research.

“In theory, I don’t have a problem with the monarchy. Our country is small, and the royal family is not only integral to our identity, but it also acts as the underpinnings of tourism, which is essential to our economy.”

“But?”

“But I do have a problem with our particular system.”

“Agnatic primogeniture. Only a male heir can inherit the crown.”

He nodded. One quick tip of his head.

“You think you’re incompetent.” She raised a brow as she looked him up and down, then shrugged carelessly. “I could see that.”

To his credit, he didn’t take the bait. “My sister is the first born, and she’s a natural leader. As far as I’m concerned, she’s being denied her birthright.”

“Others would say it’s your birthright.”

“And they would be correct under the law as it now stands. But it’s not my ambition.”

“Physics,” she said, remembering his passion. The way his face had lit up when he talked about his work with Professor Malkin.

He said nothing, and she wondered at his silence, but didn’t ask. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and nodded. “I honestly don’t know how much help I can be, but I can help you understand the issues, the arguments, the pros and cons so that you can go back and advocate for the change.”

“That would be most helpful.”

“But I have a price.”

His brows rose. “Over and above your firm’s already hefty hourly rate?”

“Yes.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but all he said was, “I’m listening.”

“I … I have to speak. At the symposium. My father thinks … well, he’s wrong. I’ll … mess up, and it … it won’t reflect … well on the firm. And my dad … I’ll end up … disappointing him.”

Leo looked at her for so long that she feared he would say no. Then he slowly nodded. “I can’t help you with how to speak—you already know what to do. The breathing. The pacing.”

She started to argue, but he continued, cutting her off.

“But I can work with you. I can help you become more comfortable in front of a group, so that you don’t rush and so that your nerves don’t get the better of you. In this instance, I think that is key.”

He wasn’t wrong. “You’d do that?”

“In exchange for your help?” He met her eyes, his expression unreasonable. “Yes, Skye. I will do that.”

He smiled, and her stomach flipped over. And right then, Skye wasn’t sure if she’d gotten the help she needed, or if she’d set herself up for heartbreak all over again.