Page 36 of A Girl and HER Prince
“We really… shouldn’t,” she said.
“But that isn’t a ‘no,’” he said. The intensity of his gaze arrested her on the spot. “No, wait, don’t actually say, ‘no,’ yet. Let’s just be friends first.”
Something in his expression told her that he was absolutely sincere. “If there’s anything I can tell about you,” he said, “it’s that you’d be a good friend to have.”
Was she? Deedee was kind of getting the short end of the stick, but if Livvy kept whatever was budding between her and Venice on friendly terms then what was the harm? His stodgy father would interfere if it became something more than that.
“I’ll be your friend,” she conceded. He smiled at her like she’d said “yes” to marriage. Her stomach did a little flip-flop. “Just friends,” she reiterated.
“Of course… you just happen to be my most beautiful friend.”
“Venice!” she laughed, and decided to remind him exactly why they would never work: “Your father would have something to say if it became more than that.”
His brow went up in question and he touched her back, sending sparks of excitement through her that weren’t even close to platonic. “My father?” he asked.
Deedee stormed through the shadows, marching furiously their way.
Livvy shot to her feet, throwing her hands behind her back. She believed Venice when he’d told her he wasn’t trying to make Deedee jealous, and she didn’t know how to feel about that—in fact, it might take a bit to digest that he’d found her “irresistibly different.” Either way, Deedee wouldn’t be happy about this new development.
Just friends. That’s all this is anyway. All it will ever be. Chill out!
She got ready to meet Deedee head on with her reassurances when unexpectedly, her friend switched directions, going for Turner and Bris. Those two were still dancing. Did that mean that they’d worked out whatever problem they’d had between them?
Deedee cut between them, doing exactly what Venice had done to her and Turner, and just like before, Turner graciously accepted the interference, leaving Bris fuming.
Now that was an interesting move.
“Uh oh,” Venice muttered under his breath. “I’d better stop the fireworks.” He stood, just as Achilles swept forward. Looking grimly defiant, the duke gathered Bris into a tumultuous dance and stopped the coming catastrophe.
Venice’s hand found hers—it took Livvy a moment to realize he was touching her againandin a way that didn’t scream, “friends.”
“Looks like we’ve got some time to burn,” he said, “… at least for a whole dance. How about it?”
Despite Livvy’s usual reserve nagging at her to stay cautious, the music was calling to her, though mostly—if she was being honest—the temptation of Venice’s curving mouth was what really decided her. His eager, happy expression promised a fun night ahead if she actually stayed with him.
Glancing at Deedee and seeing her busy with her next “target” and—dare they hope—having an enjoyable time as she laughed up at Turner, Livvy accepted Venice’s hand and returned to the dance floor.
His fingers slid over her waist, touching her as tenderly as he would a princess. With that one magical move, Livvy was whisked away into the enchantment of the evening.
If Livvy were being honest with herself, she’d never have imagined that this festival would’ve turned out quite so much… well, so much like the book her father had given her!
Chapter Twelve
Just friends?
Had Venice really thrown that line at her? He still grimaced at himself, but at the same time, resorting to that tactic hadn’t beenallbad.
Livvy was actually dancing with him again—a feat that probably wouldn’t have happened had he not fallen off the marble walkway and almost broken his leg. After that, she’d descended on him like Florence Nightingale glued to her patient.
The glow lighting up the ruins behind her played with the stray curls of her dark hair, framing her head like a halo and turning him into a blubbering, stuttering idiot. Her father had called her his princess in her book, but Livvy was better! She was the angel he’d first thought she was, with the soft heart of one. Her white dress was the perfect touch when she’d fussed over him, but it was those sympathetic eyes that had stretched out every last bit of his self-control. They needed no outer light—that sparkle came from inside alone, completing her simple, classic beauty.
Her deep concern had made his bruised ego worth it.
Venice needed to tread carefully. Shewasdifferent than the more jaded, rougher crowd of partiers he’d surrounded himself with lately. Perhaps, looking for better friendsdidstart with her. Only, he kept getting lost in those tantalizingly soulful blue eyes of hers.
No, this doesn’t feel like friends.
But how to convince her of that?
