by Susan Stoker
How in the world could she say no?
***
Nico had arrived at the theater thirty minutes in advance and had been seated promptly. But now, with five minutes left before the show was supposed to start, his hopes were waning. Bella had been quite firm with him yesterday about being unable—or unwilling—to see him again, and truly he understood why. She was right to avoid him. Smart. He was, as he’d observed to her yesterday, a bad bet—a man spoken for, for all intents and purposes. And yet he couldn’t give up on the sheer pleasure of her company without one last try. It was probably playing dirty to offer her a ticket to the one show she wanted so desperately to see, but offering her any less than her heart’s desire seemed pointless. As for arranging a private session at Maxime’s? He didn’t want to give her an excuse to say no. While his allowance was meager compared with other princes of Europe, it was certainly enough to spoil a pretty girl a little.
And yet it appeared that his careful plans were in vain. Turning back toward the stage, he sighed in disappointment. With three minutes until curtain, it looked like he’d be watching the play alone.
More’s the better, he tried to convince himself. Why should she and I get to know each other better, creating wonderful memories, when we have to say good-bye on Friday? What’s the point? He rubbed the beard on his chin, trying to make peace with his situation. She’s wise to stay away.
“Mi scusi, credo che questo è il mio posto.” Pardon me, but I think that’s my seat.
His heart started racing as a smile burst across his face. Nico looked up to see a goddess standing beside him, grinning down at him with her wonderfully warm, fresh, familiar smile. He leaped to his feet, drinking in the sight of her face as she tilted her head back to look up at him.
“Bella,” he murmured. “Tu sei qui. Sei belissima!” You’re here. And you’re so beautiful.
“Grazie,” she said, dipping into a small curtsy before looking back up at him. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Nor could I,” he said, trying to hear her over the fierce hammering of his heart.
Her lips were pink and glossy, and her long, dark tresses were curled and pinned back, falling over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Pale pink and gauzy, the knee-length dress she wore fit her petite frame perfectly, making her look even more angelic and innocent than usual. His eyes trailed over her body covetously, his mouth watering as he traced the lines of her bare legs.
“You’re a vision.”
“I’m returning the dress tomorrow,” she said, easing past him to take her seat, her small breasts brushing against the crisp, white cotton of his dress shirt.
“The hell you are,” he muttered. “I’ll tell them not to accept it.”
“Don’t make me regret coming,” she said, sitting gracefully in the maroon velvet seat before looking up at him with no-nonsense brown eyes.
“Fine. Return it,” he muttered, taking his seat beside her as the lights went down.
But when the orchestra started playing the overture, he reached for her hand, taking it in his gently, weaving their fingers together and desperately hoping she wouldn’t pull away.
What would it be like, he wondered, to marry for love instead of duty? To come home to someone like Bella every night? No doubt she would run around the vineyard rows with their children, laughing and warm, and at night—O, Dio—at night, he would hold her small body in his arms, the softness of her breasts falling over his forearm, her curves fitting perfectly against him, skin to skin, reaching for each other under the covers before finally sleeping.
A brief vision of Princess Elena flashed through his head—his mother had e-mailed Nico a picture of her this afternoon. She was accompanying a UN Peacekeeping mission through Ethiopia right now, and the picture was of her—with her short blonde hair, angular body, dust-covered face and serious expression—holding a starving black child in her arms.
Elena was a good person. Such a good person.
He would try his best to do right by her. To be good enough for her. To make his family proud.
But for now…just for now, in his last, precious moments of freedom, he would selfishly forget about her and concentrate on the lovely girl beside him. Turning just slightly, Nico watched Bella’s face in profile: her wide eyes and parted lips, her swanlike neck long and graceful in the half light from the stage. He’d tasted those lips, and it had only whetted his appetite further.
He heard an echo of laughter in his head, felt a quick flash of longing as he thought of Bella chasing their children through a sunlit vineyard…
No, insisted his brain, shutting down the heavenly vision.
It would never be.
Though he was falling for her madly, there was no future for them, and dreaming of it would only make saying good-bye harder.
***
“O, Dio!” she cried softly, turning to face him as the lights came up. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“You’re enjoying it?” he asked, grinning at her exuberance.
She sighed. “The way she flew! The special effects are just…” She grinned at him, cocking her head to the side. “Am I going on and on?”
“Am I complaining?”
“No,” she said, but she felt self-conscious, recalling Madame’s harsh words, …you’re a simple country girl. “But I don’t want to bore you.”
“Bore me?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.”
“Ha. A simple country girl from Ticino? Right.”
“I mean it, Bella,” he insisted. “You’re just…you. All your emotions on the surface. All your words honest and true. No games. No angles.”
“Angles?”
“When you’re a prince, sometimes it feels like everyone’s working an angle.”
“Hmm,” she said, her heart clenching, “I’m sorry for that. It must be a terrible way to live your life.”
His expression lightened. “Tonight, nothing is terrible. Tonight, cara Bella, everything is perfect because you’re here beside me.”
“Prince Charming,” she teased.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers—the sweetest, lightest touch, but Bella felt it in her toes.
“For you? Yes. I will be as charming as possible.” He stood up, still holding her hand. “And to that end, cara, how about a glass of champagne?”
“I’d love it,” said Bella, letting him lead her up the aisle.
After their bubbly, they resumed their seats for the second act, which was even more emotional than the first, and Bella found herself crying by the end, a surprise reunion between two characters making her heart full to bursting.
A handkerchief appeared in her hand, and she wiped her cheeks gently, careful not to smear her carefully applied makeup. She’d enjoyed dressing up like a princess just for tonight—doing her hair, makeup, and nails in the quiet salon after everyone had gone home, then visiting Renata to choose a dress. Renata had tried to convince her to choose a sexy black cocktail dress, but it didn’t feel at all like Bella. When she saw the pale-pink tulle, goddess-style cocktail dress, she hadn’t been able to look away. And from the look on Nico’s face when she arrived, it had been the right choice.
As he led her from the theater after the show, they found horses and carriages for hire outside, and Nico insisted that they take a ride together. The evening had grown chilly during their show, so the driver handed them a nubby wool blanket that Nico laid across their laps before putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her snugly against him.
Though the sensible part of Bella’s brain knew that she should insist on finding a cab and heading home alone, she couldn’t resist the romance of a moonlight carriage ride with a prince. She sighed in happiness, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes as they clip-clopped away from Times Square and toward Central Park.
“Why’d you come?” asked Nico softly, his deep voice close to her ear.
“I couldn’t stay aw
ay,” she answered honestly.
“I shouldn’t have invited you,” he said, holding her closer, his hand heavy and warm on her upper arm, where he rubbed gently.
“I shouldn’t have said yes.”
“But you did.”
“I did,” she said, opening her eyes and tilting her head back to look up at him. “And I would again.”
“Would you? If I asked you to meet me tomorrow? You would?”
She nodded. “There’s no use resisting you. As long as you’re here…I won’t say no again.”
Her words sounded forlorn, though, and Nico flinched.
“Bella,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you. I can—I mean, I will leave you alone…if you tell me to. I’ll tell the driver to stop. I’ll say good-night and leave this carriage. I’ll pay him to take you home, and I won’t bother you again. I promise.”
“That would hurt me more,” she said, her eyes dropping briefly to his lips before skating back up to meet his gaze.
“We only have a handful of days…and even those are spoken for. The rehearsal and dinner on Friday. The wedding on Saturday. Elena will be here by then and…”
She reached up and placed a finger over his lips, her eyes fluttering at the soft warmth of his skin. “Then we have until Friday. And it’s only Sunday.”
“Five days.” His lips puckered as he kissed her finger softly. “I promised I wouldn’t kiss you before. But I can’t promise that now.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“So we’ll…see each other? For the next few days and then…”
“Say farewell,” she said, refusing to let her eyes brighten with tears. “I heard this in a movie once: I’d rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special. That’s how I feel about you. About us.”
“Ah, Bella. Cara, bellisima Bella. Me too,” he said, bending his head so that his lips found hers.
His hand cupped her jaw, a gentle pressure that kept her lips exactly where he wanted them. She felt the gentle swipe of his tongue along the seam of their lips, and she parted them, welcoming him into her mouth. As he slid his tongue against hers, a warmth, a heat, pooled in her stomach, then lower, making her shift against him, arching her back so that her breasts pressed against his chest. He groaned softly, holding her tighter, his tongue swirling around hers as his lips changed angles so that they fit more perfectly together. She threaded her hands into his hair, reveling in the thick softness against her fingers as she memorized the taste and texture of him.
And for Bella, who’d known very little love in her life, this felt like love.
It wasn’t, of course.
It would be impossible to fall in love with someone so quickly—even a handsome prince who seemed determined to treat her like his princess for this one fleeting week.
But it felt like love, and Bella didn’t fight that feeling.
“Tomorrow, Bella,” he said urgently, his breath kissing her skin as his lips skimmed the column of her throat. “When can I see you tomorrow?”
Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, but now she loosened them, trying to think a clear thought. “Tomorrow is…”
“Monday,” he said, his throat rumbling with a low, sexy chuckle.
“Monday. Right.” She leaned back, looking up into his eyes. “The salon is closed, but it is a deep-cleaning day, and I’m expected to be there.”
“Could you fake sick?”
She shook her head. “No. That wouldn’t get me out of working.”
His expression darkened. “You’re not allowed to be sick?”
She shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“What about Tina? I could send her up to steal you again.”
“Would she do it?”
“She’s my twin sister. She’d do anything for me.”
Bella grinned at him, nodding her head in relief. “Madame won’t be able to say no. Valentina is very…persuasive.”
“What time shall I send her?”
“Around noon? I’ll help in the morning. It’ll make Madame more amenable.”
“And what do you want to do tomorrow, cara Bella?” he asked, nuzzling her nose, brushing her lips lightly with his.
“I don’t care,” she answered honestly, reaching up to cup his bristly cheek, “as long as I’m with you.”
His eyes darkened, and his expression became serious. “How will I leave you on Friday?”
“Don’t think about it,” said Bella, pulling his face down to hers, her lips hungry for another kiss before the carriage arrived back at the hotel.
“But I’m greedy,” he murmured. “I won’t want to give you up.”
“Let’s not ask for eternity,” she said softly, “when we have now.”
Then she stopped any further conversation by pressing her lips against his, sinking into the warmth of his embrace as the summer stars smiled down on them.
Chapter Five
With her hair twisted back into a heavy bun at the base of her neck, Bella used her wrist to push some flyaway strands from her forehead. She wore heavy rubber gloves on her hands because using this much bleach to scrub floors and sinks once a week left her skin chapped and sore.
But every so often she’d take a peek at the clock on the wall. It was now eleven fifty, and with three of the four sinks thoroughly scrubbed, she only had one more to go. She doused the white porcelain in bleach, letting it saturate the sides for a moment before she’d start scrubbing.
“Bellllla!” called Madame Gothel. “Almost finished with those sinks?”
“One more to go!” she answered, sighing as she picked up her scrub brush.
Madame had been fast asleep, snoring away, when Bella returned home last night, which was a relief. She may have been able to explain the dress by saying she’d bought it on Amazon with her credit card, but when the statement came at the end of June, Madame would know she was lying. Besides, she would have read it on Bella’s face, wouldn’t she? That dreamy, starstruck expression that Bella herself could hardly keep contained?
She wanted to make the very most of her five days, but that would only be possible if Madame didn’t find out that Bella was dating a hotel guest. After their conversation yesterday, Bella knew now, in no uncertain terms, that Madame would have no problem turning Bella out of her home.
“Bella,” said Madame, entering the hair-wash room wearing a fashionable dress, her hair coifed and nails perfect, “hurry up, please. We still have the stations to do. And the reception area. You’re pokey today, dearest. All you’ve managed to do is the bathroom, steam room and treatment room.”
“Yes, Madrina,” she said, sighing softly as she rinsed out the bleach, leaving the hair-wash basin sparkling clean.
Madame Gothel cleared her throat, and Bella looked up expectantly as she grabbed a towel to dry the sinks.
“Bella, I was certain I heard you come in late last night. Almost midnight, I believe.”
Bella gulped, trying her best not to look guilty. “I was—I was on the roof for a while, Madame.”
“Hmmm,” hummed Madame Gothel, narrowing her eyes just slightly. “I see.” She cocked her head to the side, a brittle smile on her face. “Alone?”
“Quite alone,” said Bella.
“Alone on the roof wearing a…” She drew out her question, examining Bella’s face, which felt hot under Madame’s scrutiny. “…Chiara Boni limited edition?”
Bella took a breath, turning back to the sink and drying the remaining droplets rigorously. “I—I saw it at Maxime’s—”
“So did I,” said Madame, “so imagine my surprise when I also saw it hanging on the back of your closet door while you were showering this morning.”
“I just wanted…to try it.”
“Did you buy it with my card?”
“No, Madrina! I mean, I’m returning it today. I just wanted—I just wanted to try it on.”
She finished drying the four sinks, then turned to face her godmother, kno
wing that her cheeks were probably red and hoping that Madame Gothel attributed this color to Bella’s hard work, not her lies.
Madame gave Bella a long, hard look before shrugging elegantly. “Let me give you some advice, Bella, darling: don’t indulge expensive taste. You haven’t the means for it. Understand?”
With a relief she tried to conceal, she nodded. “Yes, Madrina.”
“Return it promptly.”
“Of course.”
“And don’t be so reckless again. That dress costs five hundred dollars. If you were to have soiled it—”
“I’m sorry!” Bella bit out.
Madame Gothel had turned to leave, but she stopped and pivoted, her eyebrows high with surprise as she looked back at Bella. “You don’t sound very sorry, Bella. You sound almost…indignant.”
“No, Madame,” she said through clenched teeth, staring at the floor, making her voice more penitent. “I am sorry.”
“All the same,” said Madame, “why don’t you give me your credit card for the rest of the week?”
Bella straightened, her lips parting in surprise. If Madame took the card away, all Bella would have was her meager tips.
“Please,” she said. “You don’t need to take my card away.”
“Your card?”
“I’m—I’m very sorry,” she said, her voice genuinely contrite. “I promise I won’t do anything so thoughtless again.”
“Of course you won’t. Because not having an allowance this week will remind you to be more careful,” said Madame with a cold, brittle grin.
Reaching into her pocket for the change purse that held a few dollars and her solitary credit card, Bella withdrew it and handed it to her godmother.
“It’s for your own good, my dear,” said Madame, pocketing the card. “I’m teaching you how to be more responsible.” She brightened up, backing away from Bella. “I’m not all heartless. Take a quick break for lunch before you finish the rest of your work.”