Page 6 of The Wanted Prince

“I think you did. You’ve found some New Yorker, some cornfed Yank. Some blond-haired American who says dude and y’all.”

“New Yorkers don’t say dude. Or, God forbid, y’all.”

“But you’re not denying it. There’s someone…”

“There’s not.” I shook my head, stifling the last of my laughter.

“Then, what’s over there? Why go so far?”

I started to give him my usual stock answer, something different, a change, a fresh start abroad, but something in his expression stopped the words cold. I couldn’t define the emotion behind the look in his eyes, but whatever it was, it felt powerful. Raw. I thought for a moment, then tried again.

“Have you ever woken up craving coffee and donuts, and thrown your coat on over your PJs?”

“My… coat?” He looked baffled.

“Yeah. Have you ever gone out in your PJs and slippers? Run out for breakfast still dressed for bed?”

“Well, no, of course not. Someone might see.”

“Correction: they would see. And in New York, that’s fine. No one knows who you are. And even if they did know, they’re too busy to care.”

“Anonymity. Right. I see the appeal.” Alessandro took my hand again, and we circled the fountain. He led me down a path lined with flowering night jasmine. Its fragrance woke nostalgia so strong it felt real, like I’d stepped out of the ballroom and back in time. Alessandro turned to me, the moon in his eyes.

“I cut myself shaving once and it was big news.”

“I think I remember that. When you left for college?”

He nodded. “It was the first time I’d shaved and not had my barber do it. I nicked myself here.” He touched under his chin. “I was headed to class with a couple of friends, and I swear we all had— You know when men cut themselves, those little bits of paper? We all had those stuck to our chins. You forget, you know. You shave, you have breakfast. You forget you’ve still got…”

“I remember the pictures.”

“So you’re saying, in New York, I could walk around like that.”

I smiled. “If you wanted. If you still suck at shaving.”

“If I suck…” He smirked. “You’ve changed.”

“Because I said suck?”

“Because you just have.” He reached out and hooked his thumb under my chin, tilted my face up to meet my eyes. “I mean that in a good way. You seem more… yourself. Like you’ve grown into who you’re meant to be.”

I opened my mouth to say so had he, though I had no idea if that were true. All I knew was, he was suddenly standing so close, the breeze in his dark hair and fire in his eyes. He traced his thumb up my jawline and across my cheek. Cupped my chin in his hand and leaned even closer. I could smell his cologne and the sweetness of beeswax, and underneath that, the tang of his sweat. A shiver ran through me — was he going to kiss me? Was I going to let him?

Yes. Yes, I was. I closed my eyes. I felt him lean in, felt his breath on my lips. The heat of his palm on my hip, through my dress. I rose up on tiptoe and our lips had just brushed, when a rustling behind us stopped my heart in my chest. I shrieked and jumped back. Alessandro grabbed my arm.

“Who’s there?” His shout rang out, ragged with anger.

I thought about running. Hiding my face. Instead, I stood frozen, not even breathing. The jasmine hedge shook, and Alessandro kicked at it.

“I see you in there. Come out. Show your face.”

A long nose poked out, then two leaf-shaped ears, then the rest of the deer stepped out. It thrust its long head at us, looking for treats, then when we had none, it showed us its tail. I laughed, thin and shaky, and swayed on my feet.

“Where did that come from?”

“Father keeps them as pets.” Alessandro stepped back from me, straightening his jacket. “We should go somewhere else. Somewhere more private.”

I should have said no to that. Gone back to the ball. Found Hugo and stuck with him for the rest of the night. But my heart was still pounding, my head spinning round. And Alessandro was smiling his new, sexy smile. I knew I should thank him and tell him goodnight, but instead I reached out to him and told him “Lead on.”

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