Page 44 of The Prince's Green Card Scheme

If she wanted me, I’d be all hers. But I know we’re not meant to be.

And knowing that makes the ache a thousand times worse.

CHAPTER 21

CHLOE

Paolo allows us to sleep in a little the next day, but I don’t feel well rested at all. All night I was tossing and turning, unable to sleep for more than an hour at a time. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t get comfortable at all, and nothing I could do was helping.

The first person I see when I leave my room is Maria. I smile at her. “Good morning, ma’am,” she says.

“Good morning. Is Paolo up yet?”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him. But if I were you, I would avoid the dining room for a little while. Miguel is down there demanding breakfast from the chef.”

I shudder. “Good idea. Thanks. I’ll just go back to my room then, I guess.”

Maria says goodbye to me, and I sneak off back to my room, passing Paolo’s as I do. I hesitate outside his door and contemplate knocking. It’s probably not a good idea.

But that split second of hesitation is all it takes for him to decide it’s time to open the door. When he sees me, he jumps in surprise. “Chloe!” he says, “What are you doing here?”

“I was just going back to my room,” I say, trying to look casual. “Miguel’s in the dining room.”

“Ah, I see. Wise choice.”

“Have your brothers always been this nasty?”

“The same and worse,” he sighs.

“You must have had a fun childhood.”

He doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he says, “Tell you what, let’s get breakfast on the go.”

“Where are we going today?”

“Bellé, the capital city. We’ll definitely find a postcard there. And I want to show you the best gelato you’ll ever have eaten in your life.”

I grin. “That sounds good.”

“Good. But first, come in.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me into the room. I yelp, stumbling forward as he closes the door behind me. “Technically,” he says, “I’m not supposed to leave the palace at all. Yesterday was okay because news isn’t going to spread from a small village. But if I’m seen in the city and someone takes a photo of me, then I’m absolutely screwed.”

“We don’t have to go,” I say. The last thing I want to do is put him at risk. He doesn’t need to get into any more trouble.

He shakes his head. “No, I want to. But I wasn’t quite sure what to wear. Should I wear this hat?” He puts on a stupid hat with earflaps. “Or this hat?” He puts on a stupid straw hat with a brim so wide I can barely see his face at all.

“Well, both are bad,” I say, pulling no punches, “But the straw hat’s better. Slightly.”

“Okay, and with sunglasses…” He goes and pulls some sunglasses out of his closet. “And maybe this scarf?” He throws a scarf around his neck for the final touch. “How do I look?”

“You were going for inconspicuous?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah — no. You couldn’t stick out more if you tried. Let me look.”

I fling open his closet. Almost everything he has in there is more expensive than anything I’ve ever owned, all suit jackets and button-up shirts and silk ties. I rummage around, flicking between generic, boring-colored shirts. He has to havesomethinginteresting in here. He can’t be all work. I know for a fact he’s not all work.

I’m about to lose hope, but then eventually I find the perfect thing.

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