Page 51 of The Royal in Room 3

“I said a French martini.”

I was certain he hadn’t, but if there was one thing I had learned from observing last week, it was that the customer was always right.

“I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood.”

“Evan, it isn’t a big deal,” Martin intervened.

“I didn’t say it was.” His tone suggested otherwise. “But it doesn’t take a genius to get a drink order right. Does it?”

“I’ll replace it immediately,” I said.

By the time I returned with the second drink, Evan had lost interest and wanted something different.

That became the pattern for most of the night. He complained that the ice melted too quickly, as if I had any control over that. Then he complained that the music was too loud, then that it wasn’t loud enough, and that I took too long to return after he placed his order.

Through it all, I smiled, I apologized, and I reminded myself that this was work and not everyone would like me. And that was okay. At the end of the night, I would get to crawl into bed in my Daddy’s arms and forget that some people were assholes.

The night became busier as more guests arrived, and since I’d handled myself so well, Phoenix had me cater to another table as well. Those guests weren’t as nice as Martin either. They mostly ignored me, but I preferred that to all the attention a certain boy insisted on giving me.

As the night wore on, I became more confident with each trip to the bar. Until I approached Martin’s table to replace his drink and someone stepped backward into my path. I shifted to avoid them and the tray tipped. I righted one of the glasses, but the other slid straight over the edge.

Dark liquid splashed across Evan’s shirt.

For one terrible second, the entire world seemed to stop.

Then he screamed. “What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry.” In my haste to help him, I put down the tray too hard, upsetting it, and the other glass dumped onto his lap.

“You did that on purpose!” He shot to his feet, his gray eyes burning with fury. “You idiot!”

“I’m sorry. Someone stepped in front of me. I’ll get you something to⁠—”

“I don’t care! You’ve been messing everything up all night.”

People nearby turned to look, and I wanted to disappear into the floor. Heat rushed into my face.

“I can get towels,” I offered.

“You ruined my shirt. Do you think red wine will come out of this fabric?”

“If you would just⁠—”

“Don’t touch me.” He said it with such scorn, as if I belonged on the bottom of his shoes. I’d never had anyone talk to me like that before, not even when I was being ridiculed by that cop for insisting I was a prince. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him as much, but who would believe me? What would a prince be doing working in a bar? And if they followed that sordid story, then I would just be humiliated all over again.

At losing the crown to some dick.

“Evan, enough,” Martin said. “He clearly didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“One drink might have been an accident, but two is obviously deliberate.” Evan pointed at me. “I’ll make sure you’re fired for this. Your kind shouldn’t be working in such a classy place anyway.”

My kind? What the hell did he mean by that?

Before I could ask him to clarify if he meant what I thought he did, Phoenix appeared beside me. He took one look at the wet clothes and the broken glass on the floor.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Your useless server dumped two drinks on me.”