Fane figured that smile was probably a foreign movement for the man’s face. “You look absolutely grand. I am glad that you could join us,” he continued.
Then his eyes slid to Fane who was standing just a little back and to the side of the prince. His eyes went slightly round. Fane could feel that look wash over him. He knew he was out of place. He wanted to squirm, to apologize. Then he caught Orlov’s glance. He took a breath, trying for confidence. He smiled. Orlov’s eyes widened ever so slightly, followed by a twitch of an eyebrow. So the redhead could look like that too?
“General, it’s an honor,” Fane extended his hand. The man’s face paled as he hesitated to shake Fane’s hand. Fane’s smile tightened at the minuscule reaction.
“Have we met before?” the General asked.
“No, sir. I’ve only seen you motivate the troops,” Fane flattered. The man’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t trying to recognize him. He knew exactly who was standing in front of him.
“General, this is who I was telling you about earlier. Prince Orlov was bringing Fane Anson with him. I already had the waiter get a placard put together for him,” a familiar voice supplied the General at Fane’s side. Fane glanced up in surprise. Zephyr was standing next to him in a stylishly cut tux, a woman in a bombshell red dress hanging off his arm. He leaned in and whispered, “Left a note with the waitstaff for your plant-based food plan.”
“Thank you,” Fane whispered back.
“Oh yes, Anson,” the General turned back to Fane, grasping his hand firmly. “I hope to see your next shot test. Zephyr, remember to arrange that for me, would you?” the General nodded a dismissive goodbye and continued walking the room.
“Shot test?” Orlov asked, curious.
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