But the little boy looking at him so warily trumped even Mirrus Global.
Emma dropped down so she was eye level with their son as well. “Listen to me, Mikhail Ansel Carmichael.”
Mikhail nodded, then said in an aside to Konstantin, “She only uses my whole name when she’s really serious.”
Konstantin had a wholly inappropriate urge to smile, despite the emotional upheaval and gravity of the moment. He suppressed it. “So, we must believe what she says, then.”
“I always believe my mom,” Mikhail said with more loyalty than truthfulness.
Konstantin had seen in their brief time together that the boy’s curious nature made him question nearly everything he was told about the world around him.
Emma gave their son a gentle smile. “Maybe not everything, but asking questions is not a bad thing. In this though, I need you to trust me.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Konstantin is your dad and no matter where any of us lives, no one can take that from you.”
“But I don’t want him to live far away.”
“I know you don’t, sweetheart.”
Their son grimaced at the endearment.
“I do not want to live far away from you either,” Konstantin assured him.
“Are you going to move here?” Mikhail asked innocently, wholly unaware of how costly such a thing would be.
“I would if I could,” Konstantin answered, meaning it.
Emma gave him a searching look, as if trying to read Konstantin’s sincerity.
But he wasn’t worried. He knew all she would see was honesty. If it meant being with his son, he would move anywhere. That did not change the truth that his active royal role as Prince and chief operating officer for Mirrus Global precluded him living just anywhere without letting down a lot of people.
Emma stood. “This conversation calls for lemonade.”
“Homemade lemonade? The kind with mint leaves floating in it?” Mikhail asked his mother with enthusiasm. “It’s the best,” he assured Konstantin.
“Would I make it any other way? I have a pitcher I made last night. I was saving it for dinner, but I think we can all use a cool drink right now.”
And something to put a smile on their son’s face. Konstantin saw the motive to Emma’s suggestion. It had worked, though Mikhail took both his mother’s hand and Konstantin’s, holding on tightly as they made their way into the brightly lit kitchen with its colorful tiles.
Emma was going to hate his home in Seattle, not to mention his apartment in the palace. The designer he’d hired had done both in elegant neutrals.
Apparently, the time had come for a change.
“Sit down at the table with your dad. I’ll get the drinks,” Emma instructed their son.
“I can help,” Mikhail said, even as he obeyed, sitting down so that he would have Konstantin on one side and Emma on the other once she joined them.
“I’ve got it.” Emma smiled reassuringly at the boy and gave a silent instruction to Konstantin to sit down with a nod of her head toward one of the chairs.
Konstantin found himself obeying as quickly as their son had done. Amused with himself, he chuckled softly.
“What’s funny, Dad?”
“I don’t usually get told what to do,” he said with a smile.
“Cuz you’re a prince?” Mikhail guessed.