Page 60 of The Prince's Green Card Scheme

“Who cares about my parents,” he scoffs. “If you’re not good enough for them, I don’t care. They can exile me again for all I care. You’re good enough forme. That’s all that matters.”

“You would renounce your titles for me?” I ask, my lips quivering and tears now falling freely. He must know I wouldn’t ask that of him. And I know he wouldn’t offer unless he meant it.

“You helped me get them back.”

“Kind of.”

“Yeah, kind of. But for you? Yes, I would lose them all over again.”

With that I throw up in the toilet again.

He strokes my head gently, reaching out to hold my hand. I take it and squeeze hard. But in that one gesture, I feel every breath of truth in the words he just said to me. He really did mean it.

He really does love me.

Once the wave passes, I sit back and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. He leans in to me, and I lean away, grimacing. “Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to kiss you again right now. I mean, I do, but…”

“No, I get it,” he says with a grin. “Let’s wait until we’ve had a mint.”

“Deal,” I smile.

“This stuff really doesn’t work that well, does it?” he says, turning the packet over in his hand.

“Maria said it was the best that money could buy,” I frown.

“Well, then, we have to do better. Also — Maria? You told her before you told me?”

“We were going to tell you after the dinner,” I say desperately. “We didn’t feel like it was a good idea to have any more stress before the big event.”

“So, you kept all the stress to yourself.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do that again. I want to know everything about you, Chloe, I want to know all your secrets. I don’t want you to feel like you ever have to hide anything from me again.”

“I won’t. But I need you to promise thatyouwon’t lie to me. Not ever again.”

All of this is wonderfully fairy-tale-like, but there’s still a nagging part of my mind that doesn’t want to believe the transformation. Paolo might have shown me a better side to himself, but complete personality changes don’t happen overnight. I need him to look me in the eye and promise me now that he’s going to change for real, that he is going to be the better person I know he can be.

He takes both of my hands and looks me straight in the eye. “I know I’m not perfect. I can’t ever promise you perfection, but Icanpromise you I will never lie to you again. I can’t promise anything else but that.”

“No,” I say with a smile, “you can’t. But that’s all I need.”

We sit there for a long moment, holding hands before I collapse forward into his arms, wrapping mine around his body, holding him tight. I would like nothing more than to kiss him right now, but my throat is scorching and my lips and mouth taste disgusting. I don’t want to put him through that again. Besides, I feel like there’ll be plenty of time for kissing later.

He wraps his arms around me and squeezes, and I know in that moment that I’m safe and loved.

“We must look ridiculous,” I giggle, wiping my eyes again. “I mean, look at us. On the floor.”

I feel him laugh deep inside his chest. He doesn’t say anything, but I know that I’m right. We’re sitting on the floor of the royal bathroom, in one of the most expensive houses in the entire country, in the country that I’ve always dreamed about visiting.

And I’m throwing up.

It’s not exactly the romantic confession a girl dreams of. And somehow that makes it even more special than anything else.

He could have done roses. He could have done fancy dinners and a big party. We could have gone through the motions of all the standard romantic things, but this here, on the golden tiles, sitting by the gilded toilet, it feels special in a way that roses never will.

“Let’s get married,” Paolo says.

I sit back up, staring at his face, and laugh. “But we’re already married.”

“I mean properly,” he insists. “Let’s do it the right way. Let’s have your mother there. Let’s do it under my real name. Let’s mean it.”

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