Page 11 of It Takes a Thief
He thinks for a minute. “Drinking an ice-cold Heineken while reading or watching a fight on TV. Or watchingEnter the Dragonfor the millionth time.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“It’s legendary. An absolute classic. The godfather of all action movies.”
“Really?” His enthusiasm is adorable.
“It has everything—Bruce Lee, martial arts, espionage, revenge.”
I chuckle. “So, you’re a man’s man.”
“I guess so. It doesn’t take much to make me happy, if that’s what you mean.”
“Me neither.” He lets out a snort, and I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a princess.”
“Thank you for stating the obvious.”
“That means you’re inherently high maintenance.”
“No, I’m not. I just—” I snap my mouth shut the moment I hear the whininess creep into my own voice. I cross my legs in the opposite direction and clasp my hands together. God, this man has the power to get under my skin.
His expression speaks volumes. I can tell he thinks I’m a pain in the ass. I’d planned to climb into the bed and forget about life for the next eight hours once we hit cruising altitude, but now I want to clear the air. I chalk it up to my natural inclination to mediate and smooth things over.
Shifting in my seat, turning to face him better, I try to explain my side. “I was desperate…and looking for a way out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or come off as high maintenance. And I understand if you’re not attracted to me.”
“I never said I wasn’t attracted to you.”
Not sure how to respond, I merely blink. Something swirls in the depths of his dark eyes and my stomach flutters. He’s looking at me so intently. Almost like he wants to devour me. But then it’s gone, disappearing just as quickly as it appeared.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Princess,” he continues smoothly, looking away. “Anyone with eyes in their head would agree.”
Right.What started out as a compliment now feels like a generic statement. “Thanks,” I say dryly.
“Can I ask you something?” His grip has finally loosened on the armrests, and he shifts his body toward me.
“What?”
“Why don’t you want to live on Arcadia and rule as Princess? Seems like a pretty sweet gig.”
As much as I love living in New York City, Arcadiaisan inherent part of me. A part I can’t deny. The sun, the sea, the salty air scented with tropical flowers—it’s in my veins. It’s home.
At the same time, it also makes me feel like I’m being crushed in a vise. Shackled to a lifestyle I don’t want. And, potentially, a man I don’t love.
“Being a royal isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” I tell him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents, the island and its people. But feeling like I don’t have any control over my future is terrifying.”
He seems to consider my words then asks, “Who’s Jeffrey?”
I’m not expecting that question at all. “He’s the man I told my parents I’d marry if things didn’t work out with anyone else. With hindsight, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”
“Because now they expect it?”
I nod. “I don’t love him. Honestly, I barely like him,” I admit.
“Your father mentioned you have responsibilities.”
“Being a part of the royal family is life-encompassing. We’re expected to engage in diplomatic and humanitarian work. Appear in public to advance and support multiple causes. Having a ‘normal’ job is frowned upon and considered below our status. Being a royal is its own full-time job.”
