Page 46 of The Prince's Green Card Scheme

“Doing what I wanted got me into this mess to begin with,” he says ruefully, his face falling under a shadow. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea after all.”

I don’t push it any further. I don’t want to spoil our day.

After we finish our crepes, Paolo drags me back out onto the street to go and see the cathedral. It is a huge, intricate building, very ancient-looking, very impressive. I crane my neck up at it and watch as the light glints off the stained glass.

Tourists buzz around us, and Paolo flinches away from them, turning his face from every camera, every selfie. His parents have got him really scared about this.

How many rules is he breaking again, just for me?

We walk around the cathedral three times, then head to the art museum, where we both do our best impressions of the paintings. He makes me laugh with every dumb expression, every way he shamelessly holds out his arms to make himself look silly.

It’s all to make me laugh. And it does. Spending this time with him here, looking at these beautiful artworks and this ridiculous man… it almost feels like a date. I almost feel like I want it to be.

“Are you sure there’s nowhere you want to go?” Paolo asks as we pass by some statues commissioned by some long-ago royals and rich people to commemorate an event I’ve never heard of.

“No, not really. I’m happy to do whatever you want.”

This isn’t the first time today he’s asked me that, but I really am happy to defer to his better knowledge. He’s already taken me to the one place I wanted to go most of all, and now I’m just enjoying exploring his city with him.

The backwards-baseball-cap look really could not suit him less, but it’s doing its job. Nobody recognizes him at all. Just for now, we’re two normal people, nothing more than two friends exploring a city together, enjoying each other’s company, laughing at each other’s dumb jokes.

This is Paolo in his truest form. This is a Paolo who isn’t a prince and isn’t pretending that he is anything but who he wants to be. This is the kind, funny, ridiculous man that I met months ago. This is the guy I fell for. Not the prince. Not the smooth-talking charmer, but the man who was thoughtful enough to take me to my dad’s village.

That’s what I fell in love with.

His face shines with excitement as he guides me around the city he knows best in the world. If he could always act like this, how could I do anything but love him?

There’s that word again, jumping into my mind against my will. Surely he’s broken my heart too many times now for me to still have feelings for him. Hasn’t he lied and cheated? Hasn’t he made promises? Used me? Isn’t our entire relationship built on a foundation of misunderstandings and lies?

But somehow, here in the city, this feels like a reset button. This feels like it could be the start all over again.

This is the closest I think he’s going to get to taking me out. To getting to know me the right way, and letting me get to knowhim. I’m still not sure if I like Prince Paolo, but normal-man Paul…

How can I forget him?

As we walk along the river, Paolo looks out and smiles, waving down at one of the boats filled with tourists. The sun catches his face, framing him in gold. It makes his eyes sparkle and his lips seem more kissable than ever.

Damn. I shouldn’t be thinking about kissing. I shouldn’t be thinking about anything except going home and forgetting about all of this craziness.

“Do you want to go on a boat tour?” he asks, turning to me.

“Okay,” I say. “Why not?”

He offers me a hand and, despite knowing I shouldn’t, I take it.

Despite everything, I still want him so badly that when I think about losing him, I forget how to breathe.

CHAPTER 22

PAOLO

By the time we finish up our pizza, the afternoon is drifting on towards the evening. I pay the bill, and as we’re walking out, Chloe sighs dreamily. “That was probably the best pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

“We know how to do it around here,” I say. “Once you’ve started enjoying Bellamari food, it might be difficult to go back to American cuisine.”

“I’m already dreading it.”

“You don’t have to.”

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