Page 75 of Gilded Princess

He shakes his head. “And Matteo’s in the thick of it. So I’m here on all of our behalf.”

“I don’t understand.”

He drums his fingers on the table, his knee bouncing to the same tempo. “There’s a lot I’m not privy to, but I just thought you should know.”

My cheeks heat and my eyes narrow, suspicion coating my words. “If this is some attempt to warn me off—”

“It’s not. I swear.” He sighs. “I’m not sure if he would’ve told you, but I’m so fucking tired of all the secrets. And I like you, Madison. So, I, uh, wanted to let you know.”

The tops of his cheeks flush pink, and I decide he must be telling the truth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him less than confident. But this guy sitting in front of me now, fidgeting and blushing? This is a new version of Leo. And I can’t say I don’t like it.

“Okay. What does that mean then?”

He blows out a breath and runs his hand through his hair, mussing it up in a distracting way. “I don’t know. Will you come back to the apartment with me though? Matteo will be better at explaining things than me.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

MADDIE

“Alright. I’m going to use the bathroom first.” I sling my purse across my body and crane my neck, looking for a restroom sign.

“Back corner. I’ll wait here for you, yeah?” Leo takes a sip of his Americano.

In one movement, I stand and push my chair in. And on impulse, I lean over and brush my lips across his before pulling back.

“What was that for?”

Rocking back on my heels, I offer him a half shrug and a smile. “Felt like a good time for it.”

“Always. It’s always a good time for a kiss from you,” he murmurs, flashing those distracting dimples at me.

“You’re too smooth for your own good, you know,” I tease him. “I’ll be right back.”

I spin on my heel and head toward the back of the coffee shop. I kind of love it here. It reminds me of my favorite one by my dorm. All cozy, overstuffed chairs and eclectic tables between them. Three bookshelves of books and games to borrow. Big windows that let the sunlight in, and decor that straddles the line between vintage-chic and gaudy.

The antique glass door handle squeaks when I twist it to open the bathroom door, but the inside is modern with three stalls, two full-length mirrors, and two sinks.

I wash my hands and use this delicious mango-scented hand scrub after I finish, admiring the vintage cross faucet handles. I haven’t seen anything like these before.

I turn to grab a towel from the stack of well-loved hand towels, and the lights go out. It happens in an instant, the switch from fluorescent lights to pitch-black startling.

I freeze, water sliding down my arms and terror licking my nerve endings. My breathing picks up, and I can’t stop blinking like that’s going to help me see better.

Maybe they blew a fuse. That happens in these older buildings all the time.

Or it could be a rolling blackout. It’s hotter than Hades outside still, and I can’t remember the last time I watched the news. It’s definitely possible for this to be a planned thing.

No need to panic.

I abandon the towels and swipe my hands down the fabric of my dress. Reaching blindly, I pat tentative fingers in the space in front of me and shuffle my feet forward. I’m so thankful I wore sneakers today. I’m sure I would’ve broken an ankle if I was in my red soled shoes this afternoon.

A few steps later, and I feel wood beneath my fingertips. Smoothing my hands down the wood, I find the handle. Relief blankets me when I palm the door handle.

But it’s short-lived because it’s not turning.

Why is the handle not turning?

My body flushes from head-to-toe, and my heart starts hammering against my ribs. I try again, but my hand keeps slipping off. It wasn’t fully dry, so I take a few precious seconds to really dry it on my shorts.

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