Page 57 of Royally Roma
She promptly let go. “You’re doing it wrong.”
“There’s a wrong and right way to throw a coin into a fountain?” He narrowed his gaze.
“This fountain? Absolutely.” The look she gave him confirmed he’d just asked a very stupid question. Possibly the stupidest. If Piero dared to look at him that way, Niccolo would have his head.
He stifled a grin. “Do enlighten me.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and spun him around so his back was to the water. “Like this. Now put the coin in your right hand and toss it over your left shoulder.”
He searched her expression for some sign she was joking, but saw none. “Why do I get the feeling you’re just trying to make me follow orders?”
“Because you’re impossible.” She jammed her hands on her hips. “I’m not kidding. This is the way it’s done. Have you truly never heard of this tradition before? Tourists usually can’t wait to do this. It’s most definitely a thing.”
Somehow coin tossing hadn’t made it onto the list of activities on Piero’s iPad.
“Then you do it with me.” He slipped his hand around her wrist and pulled her toward him. Which in no way constituted kissing. “Since I’m so clearly inept.”
“Oh.” She collided into his embrace with a startled air, but much to Niccolo’s delight, didn’t pull away. “Sure. I mean, you obviously need help.”
“Obviously.” His breath sent a ripple through her dark hair, and Niccolo had a sudden flashback to the night before in her kitchen. He closed his eyes and once again tasted the Chianti on her lips. The sensation was so real, so visceral, his left arm tightened around her waist, pulled her closer.
She was warm, soft. Impossibly soft. Niccolo wondered if her frustrating no-kissing rule only applied to lips. Surely a small brush of his mouth against the secret spot behind her ear wouldn’t count.
“Nico,” she breathed. To his great relief, it didn’t sound at all like a protest. More like a plea.
“Am I doing this wrong as well?” he whispered, kissing a trail to the back of her neck.
She shivered, and he went rock hard...surrounded by hundreds of people in literally the most crowded spot in Italy.
He straightened. Cleared his throat.
How was he going to survive until morning? He’d had the good sense to put a stop to things the night before, but a man had his limits. And Niccolo had reached the end. The appearance of the palace bodyguards had changed things. He couldn’t battle both the crownandhimself.
One of them was bound to win.
Niccolo just wasn’t sure which would be the victor.
“The coin...” he said, in a mighty effort to give the crown a fighting chance.
“Hmm?” Julia said dreamily, and for an exquisite second, she leaned back against him with her eyes shut and her mouth curved into a sinful variant of a Mona Lisa smile.
“Julia.”
Her eyes flew open. Over her shoulder, her gaze lingered on his mouth for what felt like a full minute before she finally met his gaze.
She blinked. “Yes, the coin. Of course.”
She took hold of his arm and together they tossed the coin over his shoulder.
Julia turned around, and the sliver of space between them felt far too large. She nodded toward the fountain. “That’s how it’s done. It looks like you’ll come back someday.”
The truth hit Niccolo like a ton of bricks.
He wouldn’t be coming back. Not anytime soon, if ever. After the stunt he’d pulled in Rome, his grandfather would forbid him to set foot anywhere near the Eternal City.
Niccolo would undoubtedly have to wait until he himself was the ruling monarch before he returned.
The next time he would stand within a one-hundred-kilometer radius of Julia Costa, Niccolo would be king.
