Working Stiff(137)
Oh. My. God.
This was what Arthur and Maxence had been joking about when they had said that Casimir knew a lot about places with high ceilings. They hadn’t meant sex clubs like The Devilhouse.
They had meant that Casimir had been raised in a royal palace.
Now she felt like an idiot.
That sensation was becoming ridiculously familiar.
The crowd moved aside like a yellow brick road parting the poppies, forming a path to a woman standing on a dais in front of a tall, tall chair, twenty feet high, that had a crown hanging over it like a wall teester that held curtains draping over a bed.
The slim, white woman stood in front of the throne, the light from the chandeliers shining all around her, dressed in a pale blue formal dress that precisely reached her toes.
Diamonds glittered in her golden hair.
Rox lost her breath and hesitated. If Casimir had gone on without her, she would have turned and fled, but when she stopped, he stopped.
He turned back and held out his hand.
Okay, so she had to do this with him.
Meeting the family was always nerve-wracking.
She took his hand and walked down the path of people on the actual red carpet trail toward the dais, the throne, and the Crown Princess. After a second, he dropped his hand from hers but touched her back, a calming gesture that was somehow less PDA than holding hands but was, if anything, more possessive.
She liked it, and her shoulders lowered farther. She wished she could lean into him, but the whole crowd was watching her walk, their glistening eyes following her every step in that long, beaded dress that reached her toes.
A man wearing a black suit—which was a relief after all the guys playing dress-up in medieval garb like this was a freaking Renaissance Fair—held a piece of paper and announced their names.
Casimir bowed his head, but the protocol droid, er, guy, had told her to curtsy deeply here, fussing that her curtsy was neither deep nor subservient enough.
Rox did her best to bend her knee and not fall on her face, mostly succeeding, she thought.
The Crown Princess Anastasia, who looked about thirty-three-ish and indeed was as beautiful as she was evil, walked down the steps of the dais and held Rox’s shoulders. She whispered, “Up, now.”
Rox stood up, managing to bobble only a little in the high heels and slim skirt, a deadly combination. It was a good thing that she had worn skirt suits to work for years and was used to dealing with balance issues.
Anastasia kept her hands on Rox’s shoulders, leaned in, and hugged her.
The crowd pitter-pat applauded.
Rox backed up and almost stumbled when her heel caught her skirt hem.
The Crown Princess Anastasia said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Neil.”
“And you—ma’am. Please call me Rox.”
“Excellent. Please call me Ana.” She turned to Casimir and shook his hand heartily. “So you warned her about us?” Ana asked him.
“Oh, certainly.” Casimir paused. “Most of it.”
“And you told her that I’m nefarious and evil and will summarily execute her if she offends me?”
His small smile reached his brilliant green eyes. “Absolutely. I told her that part first.”
“Oh, good. I hate that surprised look on people’s faces when I order their beheading. It’s so distasteful.”
My God. She had Casimir’s dry sense of humor.
Rox smiled.
They were going to get along just fine.
THE ORANGE HALL AT HUIS TEN BOSCH PALACE
The reception lasted until long after midnight, dining and dancing and talking with dozens of new people. Rox fretted about remembering all their names.
When Casimir noticed that she was repeating everyone’s name at least three times in conversation, he whispered to her not to worry about filing them away. If they had an important meeting with any of these people, admins would prep them. She should relax and enjoy the evening.
So she did.
She caught him smiling at her several times throughout the night and a lot while they were dancing.
Everyone seemed fine with Casimir, talking and laughing with him. Indeed, they seemed a little more helpful, a little extra kind, and eager to make an introduction for him or get his opinion on something.
They were all one notch too loud and jovial.
Casimir returned the pleasantries, smiling that elegant smile of his that made his green eyes seem more kind than sparkling, listening to what they said, shaking hands or inclining his head when someone curtsied, but he seemed just a little more reserved than in California, a little more private.
A little more shielded.
When Rox looked back, though, catching people out of the corner of her eye after they thought that she and Casimir had turned away, a lot of people glanced at the floor, something like shame or regret passing over their faces for the brief pause before they turned to greet the next person.