Prince Harry Ih.sI

54

Harry's Point of View

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"So why won't you have some wine with me? We don't have to get drunk." I tell her, picking up my glass and raising it.

"Because Harry, you know I don't like to drink." She replies, playing with her hair and turning her head slowly to her side.

"You liked that daiquiri I used to make you. That had alcohol." I protest. She's been acting so... Suspicious? Yeah. Suspicious lately. I don't know why though.

"Gisele... baby." I say to her, setting my glass down on the table. It's been a while since her and I have been out for a proper dinner. Last I recall us doing this we shared quite a bit of alcohol and she claimed she was getting literally sick from my dirty talk.

I pick up her hand, pressing my lips to it. My intentions of the night will certainly bring back old memories, since I plan on only talking dirty. From what I remember, it's funny to see her get uncomfortable and awkward when I speak so explicitly. Although if things were the other way around and she talked to me like that… yeah, that’d be nice.

All in all, sharing a glass or two would only add to my excitement for the night. I'm not saying we get wasted but just enough to be... Giddy.

"There's got to be a better reason why you're refusing a drink with me." I counter, looking at her hand, which is in mine, smoothly rubbing the pad of my thumb over her knuckles.

No one just suddenly stops drinking and claims it's because they've hated drinking all along.

"I'm just not in the mood," she says, sighing and looking into my eyes, trying to get me to just agree and stop bothering her.

I drop her hand from mine only to place it on her thigh; her body slightly jerks up as a reaction. I smirk, licking my lips and I whisper to her. "Well then, let's get you in the mood."

I grab her hand and pull her out the booth with me, gently but quickly. She starts to ask what I plan on doing but I just ignore her, letting her figure out why I've brought us to the dance floor.

"Dancing? We're going to dance?” She smiles.

I look down at her, squeezing her hand in mine. "Dance with me," I smile.

She nods her head, ecstatically. "I thought you couldn’t dance?" She says.

I pull her to me so her body collides and bumps into my own. I place my hand on her waist and put my lips to the top of her earlobe. "I can't." I truthfully tell her.

She chuckles as I twirl her once and bring her back to my chest. The restaurant I've chosen for us to attend to tonight is a fancy and elegant diner that has a capacity of around a hundred people; a low-key, expansive, bar in other words.

A small sized orchestra plays at the back end of the restaurant, the dance floor attached to their "stage". The loud music coming from the trombones, flutes and violas make me want to take Gisele's hand and have her dance the night away with me. Even if I look stupid doing so.

I put my hand back on her waist, leaving my fingers to cup her hips as my other hand grabs her right hand, she puts her left hand on my shoulder and we sway to the music... Nicely too.

I smile at her, staring at her stare at me. I don't need to look around to know other people are observing us. I mean not only is it because their beloved Prince is dancing away with his fiancée but the fact that the girl in his arms has a rare beauty. I wink down at her.

She bites her lip looking at the ground and to our feet. "You might've been born with two left feet, Harry." She laughs, clearly unimpressed by non-existent dancing skills... I did tell her though.