That made my pulse flutter. He was obviously wrong, as I was sitting next to Caitlin, but I just smiled up at him. I had worn my new purple cocktail dress and liked the way it swooshed when I moved. I looked up to see Lady Claire giving me a dirty look.
I made a mental note not to leave any of my food or glasses alone tonight. Who knew what she’d try to get me with next.
Caitlin was a master conversationalist, and she asked me question after question about myself without being intrusive. Lady Claire kept trying to get Nico’s attention, but he was busy listening to my conversation with the princess. She made me feel so comfortable that it didn’t feel like I was making an effort at all. I had this feeling like I really could be friends with her.
Which was pointless because after this week I would never see her again. Except for in magazines and on television.
I saw Lady Claire move her left hand slowly across the table, and she leaned over. To where she had obviously put it on Nico’s thigh.
I wished the table wasn’t so wide so that I could kick her stubby legs.
But Nico grabbed her wrist and politely, but deliberately, put her hand back on the table. I looked away, so that he wouldn’t see me watching. When I looked back, he gave me a million-watt smile.
“He fancies you rotten,” Caitlin said to me in a low, conspiratorial voice.
“What makes you say that?”
“He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since he sat down.” It was true. Even I couldn’t be in denial about the way he was looking at me. It was a glorious, fizzy feeling—too amazing to be contained in just one person. I felt like I should start helping little old ladies cross streets to settle the karmic debt of feeling this way.
“Tell me,” she said, putting her napkin on the table. “How do you feel about him?”
“I’m not so good with the feelings. I could get you a sarcastic comment. Or some snark.”
She laughed and even her laughter sounded refined.
“I can’t wait to tell Alex.”
“Why?”
“Back in the day Nico gave him a hard time about falling for me, and as far as I know, Nico’s never been serious about anyone. Alex has been biding his time, waiting for some payback. He is going to be relentless in his teasing, I’m sure.”
“Is it hard? Being with a prince?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment and then caught her husband’s eye. He smiled broadly at her and mouthed, “I love you.”
“It isn’t always easy. I’ve had a lot to learn. Still do. There’s a lot of protocol and rules. And the paparazzi are more difficult than you can possibly imagine. We waited a long time before we got engaged because Alex wanted to be sure that I could handle all this.”
I understood a little bit of it—I’d had a taste in Paris, and I hadn’t liked it one bit. I could only imagine how much worse her life was. Based on the magazines I’d seen, reporters never left her alone.
“But I love that man more than life itself. I would walk through fire for him. And that’s what I do every day. Walk through fire. In the end it’s all worth it because I get to be with him.”
The plates were cleared, and the queen announced that there would be music and drinks in the ballroom. The guests stood up, and Alex made his way over to us. “I’m sorry to steal her away, but I’ve come to collect my beautiful wife. She owes me a dance.”
So much adoration and love between them. I wished I could have even a fraction of what they had.
There was no point in considering what Caitlin had said, because our situations were so different. Nico wasn’t getting married, and I was leaving.
But as he walked toward me I couldn’t help but wonder, would I put up with all of this? Would I walk through fire to be with him?
I had the sneaking suspicion the answer to those questions was yes.
Nico didn’t have any responsibilities at this event, so he spent the whole evening glued to my side. We danced and laughed and talked. Sometimes with other people, sometimes just alone.
Lady Claire spent the entire night looking like she might kill me in my sleep. I would have to remember to lock my door.
Hours after most everyone else had gone to bed, Nico offered to escort me to my room. Everything had been packed up, and the staff had all left. We’d sat in a couple of chairs and had talked while the party around us had been undone. I hadn’t even noticed. “I don’t want this night to end,” I told him.
“Neither do I.”
But it was late, and I was sure there would be some Fiorelli in my room tomorrow bright and early telling me to get up. “I should get to bed, though.”
He held my hand, and I leaned my head against his shoulder, walking slowly. I had no idea how much I loved dancing. I’d never gone to dances at school, or to clubs. It had seemed like a waste of time, and I thought the time would be better spent studying because I didn’t want to lose my scholarship. I’d been seriously missing out.
Nico’s big, strong hand tightened around mine, and I realized dancing wasn’t the only thing I’d been missing out on.
We got to my door, and he turned me so that I was flat against the wall. He put both of his hands on either side of my head. He gave me a lazy smile. “Any ideas for things we could do now?”
“Parcheesi?” Did my voice always sound that high and tight?
“No, thank you.” He got closer to me.
“We could watch Frozen.”
He laughed softly. “I’m certain there is a ring of hell that consists of watching the same movie over and over again.”
Then he was kissing me and I forgot everything else. He pressed against me, and I wrapped my arms around him, hanging on for dear life. This man was pure magic with his mouth. I lost all sense of place and time. There was only Nico.
I didn’t know how much time had passed before he whispered in my ear, “Invite me in.”
That sent a shock coursing through me. I knew what he had in mind.
And the worst part? I wanted to. Desperately.
But I didn’t care what my stupid body wanted. I was in charge here, not the other way around. I had a vow to keep. And I was strong enough to do it.
“I will take things as slowly as you want,” he murmured across my cheek, trailing small kisses of fire. That made my resolve waver just a little.
“No,” I breathed, barely able to mutter that one syllable.
“No?” he repeated, like it amused him.
I knew (well, I didn’t know as I’d never “known” anyone ever, but I had a pretty good idea) what would happen if I brought him into my room. The plan, the promise, I reminded myself.
He wasn’t even kissing me at this point, just running his lips over my skin, like he was inhaling me. I was shaking all over.
“I need things to go slower. Yesterday, right now, it’s a little fast.”
That made him stop. “You don’t like kissing me?”
“That’s not the problem. The problem is that I like it too much.”
He got one of those male pride smiles.
“The thing is,” I continued, trying to calm down my breathing, “I made myself a promise a long time ago that I wouldn’t . . . do that kind of stuff until I was married. And if we keep going at this pace, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my promise.”
A few moments passed in silence, with Nico studying me. He looked into my eyes, like he was trying to figure something out. “I understand. It’s frustrating and I’m not sure I like it, but I understand,” he said, sighing as he put his forehead against mine. “But I can still kiss you?”
There was no going back now from that one. It’s what happened when you crossed any line with someone—like from not kissing to kissing—it was hard to go back to where you’d been. And then you’d cross that line sooner with the next guy. It was not a situation I was going to fall into, like my mother had.
I put my hands on his head and pulled him back so that I could look at him. “I don’t want you to ever stop kissing me,”
I told him honestly.
He went still at that, his hands not moving. I saw him swallow before he answered. “Careful, cuore mio. A man can only take so much.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. He took my face in his hands and looked at me like I was the most precious, dear thing in the whole world to him. A feeling I didn’t recognize flooded my heart. Like a cross between tenderness and wonder. “Whatever my lady wants, she shall get.”
Then he kissed me in a way that literally made my toes curl up in my shoes. I didn’t trust myself to stay out here in this hallway with him. So I broke off that magical kiss, told him good night, and slipped inside my room.
I locked the door.
And I didn’t know whether that was to keep Lady Claire from smothering me in my sleep or to prevent myself from chasing after Nico and telling him I’d changed my mind.
As predicted, I had Giacomo in my room early the next morning with a hot chocolate in one hand and an itinerary for the next few days in the other. There were activities sponsored by the family to entertain all the guests—things like horseback riding, spa visits, a hunting expedition, hiking, ice skating, and dinners. He had also blocked out time for me to write, as well as, embarrassingly enough, time to spend with Nico. Giacomo told me he had made certain to coordinate my schedule with Nico’s. Nearly every moment of personal time was accounted for. Like, when I should shower and brush my teeth. Thankfully, there were no times blocked out for us to make out. I would have died. I looked up at Giacomo, wondering what he thought about me and the prince. But his serious face revealed nothing of his personal thoughts about the sort of dating thing Nico and I had going on.
My guess would be that he probably disapproved.
Lemon came in to tell me good morning, and we compared schedules. My stuff seemed mostly frivolous, but Lemon’s was full of meetings with the head press secretary and his department. There was something called a snow polo match scheduled for that afternoon, and we agreed to meet up then.
I started outlining the time I’d spent with Nico, putting it in chronological order. I decided to leave the personal stuff out, and just emphasize the fun and how awesome he was to hang out with. If Lemon put a picture of him up on the website, I wouldn’t have to try too hard to get women to like him.
My nightstand drawer started to buzz. Confused, I opened it. I had forgotten about the phone.
I had a text message.
In Monterra. Will find you at the polo match. Bring the camera.
My stomach clenched tight as a black fear shot through me. I had put this all out of my mind. And now I would see Seamus O’Brien again. I had to get this money and phone back to him without anyone finding out what he wanted me to do.
I would fix this. I would explain and send him on his way.
It would be okay. It had to be.
Lemon and I rode in a car together to the match. I had put the envelope of cash into my inner coat pocket and the phone in my jeans. She told me all about her plans and how well everything was going. She was spending her free time making phone calls to major news outlets and reporters. There was no mention at all of Salvatore.
She did ask me about Nico, and I told her about the recent kissage. She squealed in delight. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold out.”
“Yeah, I didn’t exactly stick to my guns for that long.”
“You do realize it was a dumb thing to decide to do in the first place, right? When a man with a face like Nico’s wants to kiss you, the answer is always yes.”
The match was taking place out on Lake Imperia. The temperatures had frozen the lake over, apparently well enough that frakking horses could run around on it. I’d never seen a polo match before, and I had no idea what to expect.
The cold mountain wind made me suck in my breath, filling my lungs with freezing air. I stuck my hands in my pockets and followed behind Lemon, carefully placing my feet in her tiny snow footprints. On the east side of the lake white tents had been set up that were covered on three sides and open in the front to the match. We wandered into an empty one and hoped that nobody would come and kick us out. There were couches and heaters and menus with delicious sounding food, which I immediately started reading.
“Mind if I join you?” Caitlin asked, smiling at us.
“Come in,” I invited. Lemon still looked a little starstruck. Caitlin was wearing a furry white coat, a blue sweater, and jeans, with brown knee-high boots. I was bundled up like that kid from A Christmas Story, while she still managed to look super put together and refined.
“Where’s James?”
“He’s with the nanny. It’s going to be naptime soon, and I didn’t want him out in this cold. And Alex would have kittens if I didn’t come see him play. He loves polo.”
“Good,” I told her. “You can explain what’s happening to us.”
She explained the rules of the game, saying each player had a specific role to do in offense and defense. She explained what they were, but I started tuning her out. I understood the basics. It was like any other sport with a ball. One team was trying to score a point by getting the ball across the field (or the snow, in this case) to the other team’s goal. Like soccer. Or Quidditch.
I asked how the horses could run on the ice. Caitlin said they had special shoes, as well as snow pads that gave them better traction than the humans had. The only worry was getting too much snow stuck in their hooves, so the lake was cleared to prevent that from happening. The horses would also be switched out in intervals so as to not overtire them.
A waiter came to take our order, and I started crowd watching. A minute later I was interrupted by a bright flash. I held my hand up to my face, peering around it to see a photographer taking shots of us. I thought the paparazzi had been outlawed in Monterra. “What the . . .?” I asked.
“This is the official photographer I hired,” Lemon explained. “Pictures for the website. You don’t mind, do you, Caitlin?”
“No, not at all,” she said. We gathered together and took several pictures. I wondered how many of them Lemon was going to get framed and put up on our apartment wall. The photographer finished and went to find another victim.
Which made me think about my little situation. I needed to find Seamus before he found me in the company of the princess. That would just lead to all kind of awkward questions. I hadn’t even told Lemon yet. I figured that was mostly because if I didn’t talk or think about it, it was like it hadn’t happened. Telling her made it more real and scarier.
Our food came, and Lemon finally calmed down enough to have a normal conversation with Caitlin. I listened as the two chatted like they’d known each other their entire lives. I envied their ability to have a conversation with anyone anywhere.
A horn sounded, and the teams trotted out onto the ice. Nico’s team consisted of him and his two brothers. They all wore bright red, long-sleeve jerseys, helmets, and sunglasses. They had on tight white pants and black, shiny boots. Nico wore the number three. Alex’s team wore blue (which made me understand why his wife had on blue herself), and he was also number three for his team. I didn’t know the men he was playing with.
The ponies trotted out, doing a lap around the ice to all the cheering fans. I called out Nico’s name as he went by, and he waved to me.
“What is that on Dante’s mallet?” Caitlin asked, confused. I looked to where she pointed, and there was something red near the base, next to the hammer part. Then I noticed that Lemon had gone very quiet.
“Lemon?”
“It’s a favor.”
“A favor? What kind of favor?”
“Not that kind of favor,” she said in a quiet, embarrassed voice. “You know how when knights would joust and ladies would give them a favor to wear on their clothes or lance.”
“Yes,” Caitlin said. “Like a handkerchief or a scarf. Or a ribbon. Usually something with their family’s colors.”
“Well, I didn’t have any of those things in m
y favorite color. So that’s my, uh, you know . . .” Her voice trailed away.
“Your what?” I asked.
“My underwear,” Lemon said, blushing furiously, covering her eyes with both of her hands.
Caitlin and I exchanged glances and then howled with laughter. Today’s match was being sponsored by a pair of Lemon’s red lace underwear. I wondered if anyone else knew.
The referee pulled Nico and Alex aside and had them shake hands, while their horses pranced around, eager to get started. The referee then moved out to the sidelines and blew on his whistle.
A bright red ball was thrown in between the two princes, and the game started. Nico got the first whack, and everyone was riding after the ball.
I put my food down to cheer for the Fiorelli men. Snow polo was a lot more exciting than I thought it would be. My heart was in my throat the whole time, because I was so worried the horses would get hurt or slide and take the players down with them.
But both the horses and the men were in total control. No one slipped. No one ran into each other. No one hit each other with their mallets. I could only imagine the damage I would do if somebody put me on a horse on ice and told me to chase after a big plastic red ball.
The game went back and forth, neither side giving in, until Rafe finally scored a goal and the crowd cheered wildly for him. There were several breaks, called chukkers of all things, like quarters in football where the teams swapped out their horses and took off their helmets to cool off for a minute.
Nico’s team scored another goal, and Alex’s team scored two in return. There was a small scoreboard counting down the time, and it was getting closer and closer to being over with no winner.
Then Nico burst through Alex’s defense, clearly headed toward the goal. I started jumping up and down and calling his name when he gave the ball a final whack, and with only twenty seconds left on the scoreboard, he got another goal!
I thought I might go hoarse from all the screaming and hollering I was doing.
“Poor Alex,” Caitlin said, with a twinkle in his eye. “He hates to lose. He’ll need some cheering up. I’ll see you at dinner?”
Royal Date Page 17