Page 19 of Royal Icing

Finally, Emma reached into the lowest tier of the cart and withdrew a breathtaking miniature croquembouche tower. Glistening strands of spun caramel wrapped around perfectly sized creampuffs. She gingerly set it on the table in front of the queen.

“Croquembouche is a classic showstopper,” Maya intoned. “Refined, elegant, and delicious.”

For once, Maya was right. Everything Emma had created was incredible. Whoever married her one day would be heartily spoiled.

His mother had withheld her opinion the whole way through. Classic Eleanor. He had been in Emma’s shoes many times, bated breath while waiting for her judgment.

“Well,” the queen said, sliding her plate away from her. “I don’t so much care for a coffee flavor, but I know many of our guests will. You’re a skilled baker,” she said to Maya.

Maya looked very pleased with herself.

“But none of these desserts were magnificent enough on their own,” the queen continued.

Emma’s lips pinched together, and flames of anger grew in Leo’s stomach. In what universe were these not good enough? They had surpassed their old royal baker’s standards by kilometers, and Emma wasn’t even sleeping with John.

“I’d like to see some of each of these, plus other kinds. It needs to be artistic, elegant, regal. A show-stopping display. I want the servants to cry out in displeasure at having to cut into it. It must be magnificent.”

She didn’t actually have a gavel in her hand, but she spoke with the authority of someone holding one.

She stood, and everyone but the king stood with her. “I’ll check in with you in two days to hear your ideas. That should leave enough time to gather supplies and make preparations.”

With that, she left the room. He could practically hear the anxiety sizzling off of Emma. It certainly wasn’t the most helpful feedback.

“Thank you, ladies,” the king said.

They both curtsied, then left the room with their cart.

The taste of caramel was still on his tongue. Emma’s caramel. He shouldn’t bother her. She was clearly sleep-deprived and probably angry at him for concealing his identity. But he couldn’t help himself.

He jumped to his feet. “I have to get going. Duty calls,” he said.

John grunted at him and leaned back in his chair, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes. Ruby had pulled out her phone the second the queen left, and the king had picked up his newspaper.

He left them to their devices and hustled out of the room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

EMMA

“Why didn’tyou make something fancier?” Maya’s nostrils flared, and the effect made her look even more like a dragon than usual.

Emma sputtered. Croquembouche was one of the most elegant recipes in her repertoire. It was usually only served at weddings.

She had been completely off-kilter since finding Leo seated with the rest of the royal family. Her dog had peed on a prince.

But the fuckingaudacityof this man. She had quite literally saved his life, and he couldn’t even bother to mention that he was the prince of the whole damn country?

And that was small potatoes compared to the queen’s criticism. This job was the reason she was here. If they couldn’t pull off something spectacular, she’d never get the other half of the money, and she’d be right back at square one.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I had to do everything by myself in an unfamiliar kitchen with the bare minimum of equipment on zero hours of sleep?”

Her voice echoed in the long, elegant hallway. She didn’t usually make a habit of yelling at her boss, asshole though she was. But the lack of sleep was culminating in a lack of self-control she hadn’t experienced in a long time. If the royal family hadn’t been thirty feet away, she probably would have been even louder.

“You embarrassed me in front of John,” Maya said.

“What? Who?”

“John. The prince.”