Page 85 of Royally Roma
Julia froze. “Theking?”
It was like being slapped in the face by reality. How could this be happening? How could she be standing here arguing with a prince while his grandfather,the king, was right outside?
She shook her head. “I have to go.”
Nico spoke without taking his eyes off her. “Piero, leave us. Tell my grandfather I’ll be just a moment.”
“Very well, sir. But I doubt he’s willing to wait.” Piero bowed, withdrew from the room, and closed the door behind him.
“Don’t leave,” Nico whispered.
But his eyes were filled with good-byes, and in that moment, Julia wished more than anything that she’d never met His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of Lazaretto, Niccolo La Torre.
She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “You were all I wanted, Nico. Not your money. Not your crown. You.” Her voice broke. She had to force the words out, because one of them had to say it. And if he wouldn’t, she would. “Only you. But I can’t do this. And neither can you. You said so yourself, remember? Your life isn’t your own.”
He pulled back and stared down at her. Hard. “Sei mio,my darling. Seimio.”
Sei mio.
You’re mine.
“I’m not.” She knew it, and so did he.
She dashed to the door as quickly as she could manage. She had to leave. Now, while she could still force herself to go. With her hand on the doorknob, she gave him one last glance over her shoulder. “Good-bye, Nico.”
Then she turned her back on the world of royalty and romance and walked away.
Back to where she belonged.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Silence fell like a heavy blanket the moment Julia left the room. Silence so thick that Niccolo felt as though he were suffocating. She’d walked into his life like a breath of fresh air, and when she departed, she stole the breath right out of his lungs. His chest grew tight, and a fierce pain took up residence in the place where his heart would have been, had his heart not just walked out the door with the woman he loved.
There was no more denying it.
He loved her.
Only moments ago, he’d been sitting in this gilded cage—alone and lost—thinking that he would never see her again. And by some strange twist of fate, she’d returned. What kind of miracle had brought her back? To what Roman god did he owe his gratitude, after he’d so callously thrown her away?
He’d been wrong. So very wrong. About so many things. But she’d come back, and the truth couldn’t have hit him any harder than if it had knocked him over.
She was the one.
It had been her all along. It had always been her, even before she’d walked up to him on the piazza and he’d pretended his name was Mano Romano just so he could spend the day with her. It had always been her, and it always would be. This felt predestined somehow. Written in the stars. No misunderstanding, no crown, no godforsaken newspaper, and no act of parliament could change the way he felt.
But she was gone.
Go after her, you idiot.
Niccolo lunged at the door, but when he swung it open, he found himself face-to-face with his grandfather.
“Going somewhere? Because I wouldn’t advise it, Grandson.” He didn’t raise his voice an octave. He didn’t need to. Everything about Niccolo’s grandfather oozed authority. He was every inch a king.
Niccolo bowed his head. “Grandfather.”
“Well, where do you think you’re going?” The king raised his brows. “Again?”
