Page 114 of The Trophy

“Jerk,” I laugh, swatting his hard as steel bicep.

“But no, seriously amore mio (my love), relax. Just remember that the King fell in love with a top model. My mother is beautiful, but when my parents met, she had no idea about royal etiquette. So my father won’t expect you to pass a quiz on the history of Montebello or know our national anthem.”

Wait, what? “Jeez, I hadn’t even thought about that. Maybe I should have studied before this.”

Luca helps to keep me grounded. “You have had enough studying to do without adding some extra notions that you can’t even use in conversation. But maybe I’ll teach you the words of the national anthem for next time. Papà will definitely be impressed.”

See? I knew it. I’m totally unprepared and this will turn out into a disaster.

“Seriously Lakyn,” Luca says as Luigi pulls up in front of Star Cove Grand Hotel. “Meeting the family will be really low-key. We’ll have a chat and then a light lunch. After that, the Dean and a delegation of the college administration will come over to accompany the King and my sister on a private tour of campus.”

That does nothing to help my nerves. What if I make a fool of myself at lunch? I might use the wrong fork or something. What if there are escargots or some equally questionable delicacy that should never be part of the human diet?

The car door on my side opens and it isn’t Luigi offering me his hand to step out.

“Cash,” I smile.

“Hey baby,” he winks, but immediately lets go of my hand, since we aren’t alone.

With that, I don’t just mean Blaze—who’s standing right next to Cash—Cole, Jagger and my sister. Luca invited them as a delegation representative of the hockey team and his closest friends on campus. In reality that’s a decoy to keep the ever present press off the juiciest piece of news. Having just Cash and Blaze here, would have looked odd and it would have raised questions. But Luca told his father the truth about our relationship, so it was predictable that King Gilberto wants to meet Cash and Blaze.

Speaking about the press, despite the gloriously sunny day, this looks like a repeat of the ambush outside the library, when Luca told me that he loved me.

Flashes from the press and paparazzi’s cameras blind me and I feel grateful for Luca’s solid presence by my side as we advance toward the hotel’s entrance.

The usual porters in an old fashion hotel livery have been replaced by burly bodyguards armed to their teeth.

Booking the entire hotel for the duration of the royal visit doesn’t exactly scream low-key, but who am I to presume what constitutes low-key for someone who lives in a royal palace?

“Vostra Altezza, che piacere rivedervi (Your Highness, what a pleasure to see you again),” a middle aged man in a tailored suit that probably costs more than a month of my rent, welcomes us as soon as we step into the hotel lounge.

“Guido,” Luca smiles. “This is my girlfriend, Lakyn Woods. Count Guido Gusberti has been with the royal family since I can remember. He’s the King’s personal secretary.”

And rather than taking the hand that Guido is offering me—presumably to shake—I curtsy.

Why doesn’t the floor open to swallow me whole when I need it to?

Thank goodness, Guido doesn’t take offense or try to embarrass me. He takes one of my hands in both of his and offers me a conspiratorial wink. “That’s not necessary, signorina. I’m not as important as my title might suggest. Let’s keep the formalities for King Gilberto.” He whispers. “Follow me, the King is looking forward to meeting you.”

I don’t even notice the huge potted palm trees that decorate the hotel lobby, nor the sleek, dark wood reception desk. The brass and chrome accents on trims and handles, the crystal chandeliers that illuminate the place, giving it an opulent feel, are like a blur as we follow Guido into one of the elevators.

Another burly bodyguard, acts as elevator operator, pressing the top button on the control panel, labeled Penthouse.

The elevator double doors open directly inside a luxurious living room that—at least in my naive perception—could rival a royal palace.

I don’t have time to dwell on the opulence surrounding me because a girl practically launches herself at me, hugging me so tight I might pass out if she doesn’t release me quickly.

“You must be Lakyn!” she eases her viselike hug, pulling me back to look at me. “I knew you were beautiful, but I have to say, the photos of you I’ve seen don’t give you justice. You’re perfect. Isn’t she, Mom?”

A tall, statuesque woman steps forward, enveloping me in a hug that in contrast to her daughter’s feels delicate.

Her smile however reaches her dark blue eyes, her tone warm. “I think you’re right, Hel. Lakyn, is such a pleasure to meet you. I’m Isabelle Leighton, Luca’s Mom.”

“Your Higness—” I begin.

Isabelle’s smile is friendly, there’s no scorn in her voice when she corrects me. “Isabelle will suffice. I lost the right to a royal title when the King and I got a divorce. But I suspect very soon you might be able to call me Mom.”

“Mom, cut it out,” Luca chuckles without any heat in his voice. “You’re embarrassing Lakyn.”

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