Book 3 || Taming Prince Charming || Harry Styles

Chapter 8

His view.

I tighten my bowtie and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look as I normally do on the outside. However, inside I feel a bundle of knots of confusion. Cassidy's confusing me. I expected her to be quiet and timid and impressed by my wealth. I expected her to walk through each room and mentally calculate how much I am worth. Well, that isn't true. I don't think she's after my money. She has so little care for money and status symbols. It's something I love about her, yet I don't know how she survives in my world. She'll be judged by her appearance and I'll be judged by her appearance. I sigh as I realize that I am thinking about her being with me in the long term. What does it matter to me if she looks like a model on the catwalk or a bag lady? It doesn't.

I freeze as I hear her coming out of the bathroom. I don't want to look at her. I don't want to feel that habitual need every time I look into her eyes.
"Is this outfit good enough for tonight?" she says sweetly and I turn towards her. Her eyes are laughing at me as she's standing there in a red dress with big ugly yellow polka dots. It's horrendous, and as I am about to ask her what she's thinking she is wearing, I realize that she is playing me. She wants to get a rise out of me—and not one in my pants. I smile to myself as I decide to keep my mouth shut. Cassidy will feel more uncomfortable than I will wearing that at the dinner table.
"It's beautiful." I smile at her and watch as her face drops at my words. Does she really think she's playing with an amateur? Her twenty-one years are nothing compared to my twenty-eight years. She's going down and I am going to enjoy watching it play out.
"You really think so?"
"Oh, yes." I grin. "Are you ready to go down to dinner now?"
"Like this?" I watch as she swallows hard and hide a smile. Yes, this is going to be very, very enjoyable.

***

Her view.

The room goes silent as Harry and I make our grand entrance. Unfortunately, I know that the silence is because everyone's in awe of what a great couple we make. I know people are staring at me and my cheap dress. Why did I choose to wear it? I know I look like an idiot. The dress is short and red with big yellow polka dots. It's been a present from my grandma one Christmas, and I've packed it to remind myself of her. I've never planned on wearing it. I'll never willingly wear this dress, not even to my local grocery store back home, and Publix is certainly no gourmet market. I cringe as I realize that I am wearing the ugliest dress known to man in front of a bunch of royals.
"This is your seat, Cassidy." Harry grins at me as he pulls a chair out for me. "Next to me, of course."
"Of course." I want to roll my eyes and move away from him, but I already know that I've already made a spectacle of myself.

"Did you lose your keys?" Tarquin asks me curiously as I sit down. I can see everyone staring at me waiting for my response.
"My keys?" I look at him curiously, and I can see a bright light in his eyes as he laughs at me.
"Your padlock keys?"
"The padlock keys that open your suitcase."
"My suitcase didn't have a padlock." I frown and see that Harry's lips are trembling. "Why did you ask that?"
"Oh, I figured you didn't have access to most of your clothes." He looks down at my polka-dot dress and I blush.
"Tarquin." Harry's mother cuts him off. "Don't be rude. I'm sure that must be the fashion in the United States, their styles are very different from ours."
"I thought the fashion there was short shorts and tight tops?" He grins. "If it's not, then I don't want to go to the States next year after all. I'll just go to St. Tropez instead."
"It's not the fashion in the States to wear dresses like this," I mumble, embarrassed.
"It's just Cassidy's style." Harry grabs my hand. "She's unique like that."
"I'm just trying to express myself." I smile at everyone at the table, going around and making eye contact with each person. I realize that the only people at the table are Harry's parents, Tarquin and us. The table is so large and there is so much food on it, that I thought there would be more people.
"It's nice to express yourself." Harry's father nods. "Louis was like that when he was a teenager, always wearing those hippie clothes." He smiles at me indulgently. "Now can we eat, I'm starved."
"Desmond." Harry's mother purses her lips. "You're not starved or starving, you must stop saying that phrase."
"No one cares, Anne."

"We care." She looks at him sternly. "And you never know when you might slip up and say it in public and then all the liberals will be on you and the family. The king says he's starving, what about the rest of us?"
"Mother," Harry sighs, "let's leave politics for another day."
"You know it's true. Between you and your father, the press is all over us."
"Mother, you know that I'm sorry for what happened. I can't go back and change the fact that the paparazzi followed Cassidy and me. It's not like we planned this."
"But an engagement, Harry, really?"

She almost sobs as she gazes at her son in disappointment. "You know that you were betrothed to—"
"Mother." Harry's voice is sharp. "You're being rude. Cassidy is sitting right next to me."
"You're breaking my heart." She sighs melodramatically, and I look down at the table. I thought that Harry's rude, but his mother's even worse. Do they think that the fact they are royalty means they can speak as rudely as they want to people?

"I'm sorry, Cassidy. Would you like for us to go out to dinner instead?" Harry gazes at me and I can see a look of concern in his eyes. I'm sure if he feels bad for me or more annoyed at his mother. I'm about to accept his offer when I realize just how bad that would look. Imagine going out to dinner on our first night. What would people think? What would his mother think? Yes, she'd been rude to me. But I know I'm going to be helping matters if I leave now. A part of me doesn't care what she thinks or what happens. This isn't real. We aren't really getting married, and I'm going to have to put up with her in a week.
"Come." Harry grabs my hand and attempts to pull me away from the table. "No." I say loudly and firmly. "This is fine. I don't want to leave."
The room is silent for a few minutes as we stand there and I'm not sure where to look. Tarquin's expression has changed to one of admiration and I know that he expected me to leave. It's then that I realize that the servants are standing by the door and by the wall, waiting for us to be finished.