Royal Date (8 page)

“I feel stupid asking this, but what language do you actually speak?”

“English.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

He had his chin resting on his shoulder so that all I would have to do is turn my head and our lips would be just a kiss apart. So I kept my attention focused on my ever-dwindling ice cream. “Monterrans speak Italian. We have a lot of different slang terms, some German and French words and phrases thrown in. The accent is what sets us apart. It’s like the difference between British English and American English. You can understand one another, but the accents are noticeable.”

“That’s pretty impressive, being bilingual. I had a couple years of Spanish as an undergrad, but it didn’t really stick.”

“Not just bilingual. I also speak German, French, and can get by in Spanish.” He nudged my shoulder again. “Impressed?”

Obviously. “No.” I started scarfing down the rest of my food, needing to be done and leave. Nico was getting to me. Every sense was heightened, every nerve ending painfully excited, and he was making me laugh and like him even more.

As if he could sense my inner turmoil, he jumped off the counter and came to stand right in front of me, pressing his legs against mine and putting his hands on either side of me, trapping me in place.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a woman do that before.”

“What?” I refused to meet his eyes.

“Eat.”

Now I had to look up to see if he was serious, or if he was teasing me. Serious. “Spend a lot of time watching women eat, do you?”

“You might be surprised. A lot of state dinners and balls, things like that. Most women push the salad around on their plate without ever eating any of it.”

That was stupid. “I like to eat.”

He reached over and took the spoon and ice cream out of my hands, gently placing them on the counter. “I like that you like to eat.”

My breath caught. “That’s kind of a weird thing to like. Why would you like that?”

He leaned in. “Because an appetite for one thing indicates appetites for . . . other things.”

I felt like I had just run a marathon. (Or a half marathon, because if I were honest, a real marathon wouldn’t happen even in my imagination.) I hoped he wouldn’t notice my chest heaving, trying to get enough air. I could feel my face going beet red.

“She blushes! Oh, I am going to enjoy spending time with you.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. To the article or spending time with you.”

He reached up to separate out a lock of my hair, twisting it around his finger. “You will.”

He was right. I would. But I needed to retain some pride. “If I say yes, it will only be because I need the money.”

Nico leaned in, and I could feel his breath against the spot where my neck met my shoulder. I wanted to melt like my ice cream. “Why do you need the money,
bella
?”

I tried to swallow but couldn’t. My eyelids drifted shut. “My tuition scholarship was defunded. I’ve already borrowed as much as I’m allowed, and I can’t keep a job because of all the fieldwork I’m required to do. If I don’t find some way to get the money, I won’t be able to graduate.”

“And that will ruin your carefully laid plans.”

“Uh-huh.” What was he doing with his fingers? Everywhere he touched me he left little pools of flame behind.

He was unfairly using his masculine wiles against me, and I was stupidly giving in. I opened my eyes to see him studying me as he slowly ran his knuckles against my cheek. “So is that a yes?”

“It will be a yes. I will pretend to date you, go where you want me to, write what you want me to write. On one condition.”

He waited for me to continue.

“No more kissing.”

His hands stilled. “
Ma che
?
” I guessed that was Italian for “What the frak did you just say?”

“If you think about it, you want me to stay objective when I write the story, don’t you? So we should take kissing off the table, right?” I didn’t know if I was trying to convince him or me.

“So you’re worried that my kisses will sway you and harm your objectivity?” He paused, as if considering. “That’s probably true.” He went back to lightly caressing me, and I worried that I might have to start planning my own funeral because I was
dying
.

But I couldn’t let on just how much he affected me. “Full of yourself much?”

He had his face close to mine, and I could feel his smile, hear it in his voice. He moved to put his lips right above mine. “You and I both know that I could prove as much right now.”

Of all the things I expected him to do and say, the next thing to come out of his mouth was not one of them. “I can do that. If you don’t want me to kiss you, I won’t. I will wait until you ask me to.”

Usually I would have been like, so not going to happen, but in this case . . . well, I hoped I was strong enough to stick to my guns.

Nico ran his fingers through my hair, and I unconsciously tilted my head to lean into his open hand. “Am I allowed to still touch you? I’m not sure I can promise not to touch you.”

“Uh . . .” I meant to say something. I did. He completely disrupted all of my brain waves.

“Because it would seem you like touching me as well.” I opened my eyes and looked down. I had both of my hands on his bare chest. When had that happened? I didn’t even remember doing it. My hands obviously had minds of their own. I clenched them shut and put them back in my lap.

“Touching is okay, I guess,” I said in that same breathy voice that I only had around him, and now felt like my new permanent one. To be fair, and putting aside the fact that I enjoyed it, Monterrans had repeatedly proven themselves to be an affectionate and kind of handsy people. I couldn’t exactly say no to him for something that was cultural, could I?

Yes, even in my foggy haze I was aware of my pathetic attempts to justify and rationalize.

“Good. Although I don’t know if it’s very fair to give a man a taste of heaven and tell him he can’t have it again.”

My heart barreled against my chest as he did that thing where he ran his thumb gently over my lips, across my jawline, back to my lips. I sort of loved that. I would probably give up my firstborn child if we could just stay in this spot all night doing that.

I was going to lose every last bit of resolve I had. I blinked a few times.

“What about our questions?” Yes, the questions. We should definitely go back to the questions. I said the first thing that occurred to me. “Do you, uh, have any hidden talents?”

His eyes looked hooded and sensual. “I think I’ve already shown you part of my special talent.”

Holy crap.

Again with the amused expression. “But I also play piano and am decent at dancing. Not the nightclub kind. Real partner dancing.”

“I’ve never done that before.” This entire experience was becoming full of things I’d never done before.

“I would love to show you.” Was he talking about the dancing or the other thing? “And you? What talents do you keep hidden from the world?”

He wanted me to think of what talents I had when my mind had turned into a vast Nico-induced wasteland. Only one thing popped into my head.

I pushed against him, and he let me go, stepping aside. I hopped down and went over to the fridge. I hoped he couldn’t see how my hands shook while I pulled the door open. The cold air soothed my flushed skin. I thought I had noticed . . . there.

I brought out a container of fresh cherries and popped the top open. I walked over to the opposite side of the island so that we had it between us. “I learned how to do this at the one slumber party I went to in junior high.”

Breaking off the stem, I put it into my mouth. He looked fascinated, putting both hands on the counter to lean in my direction. It took longer than I expected it to because it had been so long since I’d last done it. Factoring in Nico’s hungry gaze did not help things either.

Finally, I fished the stem out and put it on my palm, holding it out for him. “I can tie them into knots with my tongue.”

I felt proud of myself right up until he groaned, shaking his head. “Katerina, do you have any idea what that does to a hot-blooded Latin man?”

“How fortunate for me then that you are Monterran,” I said, echoing back his words to me when we first met.

As he placed the phrase I’d just used, he started to laugh and I joined in, the physical moment broken between us, but a new, fragile, emotional one starting in its place.

Despite my inexperience, even I knew that I had been flirting with danger. I put the stem down on the counter. I also knew I couldn’t push him too far and expect him to still respect my requirement. It was time for me to go back to my room. By myself. I put the cherries away.

“Okay then. Good night.” I got to the door of the kitchen when I heard him say something.

“Next time, choose the gelato instead of ice cream. Gelato is infinitely superior.”

Next time. Like there would be a next time of this. I would lie in my bed and starve myself every night before he’d get a repeat of tonight. I would go down into those dungeons and find some manacles and chain myself to my bed before this would happen again. I just nodded, like I agreed.

“Do you need me to help you find your way back?”

“Nope!” I barked. “I’m totally capable of going back to my room.” I hated when he looked at me that way—like he totally understood me and knew exactly what I was thinking and he thought it was funny.

Thankfully, he let me go without another word.

I woke up to blinding sun as a short, balding, serious-looking man in a well-tailored suit threw the curtains open. I held my hands in front of my eyes to block the light out. “What’s happening?”

“You need to wake up,
signorina
. Your flight to Paris will be leaving soon.”

What the what? “Flight to Paris?”

“His Royal Highness is the guest of honor at a charity ball in Paris this evening, and he would like for you and Signorina Beauchamp to accompany him.”

“And you are?” More strangeness in the Monterran castle.

The man bowed to me, and I could see the shiny top of his head. “I am Giacomo Rossi, assistant secretary to Her Royal Highness, Queen Aria. I have been sent to assist you while you are staying with us.”

Oh yeah. Nico had mentioned something about this guy last night. That probably meant I should get up. But my head felt heavy, and my eyes were burning. “What time is it?”

“Six twenty.”

I groaned. “They have one of those in the morning, too?”

“May I get you some coffee? An espresso?”

“I don’t drink caffeine, thanks.” I didn’t like to take in anything that would alter my body’s chemistry. Giacomo looked unfazed. Most people looked ready to give birth to kittens when I told them I didn’t drink coffee.

“Hot chocolate then?”

“Sure.”

“We have a busy schedule today,” was his response. “I have taken the liberty of packing a bag for you,
signorina
.”

“Please call me Kat.” I was already being darlin’ and
bella
-ed to death. I didn’t need another name. I mean, I understood that Monterrans used endearments at the drop of a hat with people they’d only just met, but it would be nice to be Kat again. “And that was very nice of you, thank you, but I don’t really have anything to wear to Paris. Or to a ball.”

“I have already purchased several dresses and suitable pants outfits for you and packed them.”

That made me sit straight up in bed. “What?”

“I used your current clothing to get the correct sizes. I also purchased matching shoes and some other accessories for your use.”

Another girl might have been exuberant about free clothes. But I hated charity. It made me feel small and pathetic. I did not want something for nothing. “I . . . I can’t accept it. That’s too much.”

Giacomo gave me a pointed look. “It’s already done. There will be expectations when you are out with the prince.”

I didn’t care about anyone’s expectations and was about to tell him that when he said, “It would be upsetting and offensive to the queen and her family if you refused this gift.”

That took the wind out of my sails. How could anyone say no? “I’ll leave everything here when I go back to the States.”