“Please, Dante, don’t drive so wildly this time,” I say as I climb into the Ferrari. “I’m a little bit out of sorts this morning.”

“Morning sickness?”

“No, nerves. It’s all happening too fast for me and I’m nervous about meeting your father.”

He grins wolfishly. “Don’t worry, unlike me, my father won’t bite.”

I slap his arm. “Very funny.”

“Relax, Rosa. You don’t need anybody’s approval, but if you wanted to work a bit harder to get my approval I wouldn’t object.”

“Stop it,” I wail.

He reaches across the console and squeezes my knee.“Oh, baby. You’re not marrying my father. You’re marrying me.”

“It’s fine for you to say that. Of course, I want your father to approve of me. Don’t you want my mum to approve of you?”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

“That’s because you know she’s going to approve of you,” I say, annoyed that he doesn’t understand. “Your father is a king. He probably has very high expectations for the woman who marries you and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do when I meet him. Do I curtsy or what?”

“Rosa, do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then relax. Everything will be fine. I don’t want you to behave in any other way than how you normally do, okay? And no, I don’t want you curtsying to him or anybody else. We are all equal. His blood is not purer than yours.”

“But—”

“No buts. We will never be called upon to undertake any royal duties so we will just behave like ordinary people. We are just there to have fun and for me to introduce you to my father and Linnea.”

“I don’t even know how to address them.”

“His majesty.”

I swallow. “See, I didn’t even know that and you never even told me until I asked you. What else don’t I know?”

“Look we have two hours on the plane. Use that time to ask me anything you want, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dante steps on the gas pedal, and the Ferrari comes forth and races like a cheetah after an impala across the savanna. Except it is Dante flying through the narrow streets, weaving in and out of traffic at spine-chilling speed.

“Are you sure Sergio will pick up my bags and bring them to the plane?” I ask, hanging on to the door.

“Yes, he’s very reliable,” Dante says glancing at me.

“No, no watch the road,” I shout.

The screeching of tires anounces the end of our ride. A single Lear Jet is parked on the tarmac.

“We aren’t going to the terminal?”

“No.”

I look at what appears like a coat of arms painted on the side of the plane. “That’s your family plane?”

“No, it’s mine and I will pilot it myself,” he tells me.

I turn to look at him in horror. “You’re not going to fly that thing, are you?”

“I promise you I am a very good pilot. Top of my class, actually. You will be perfectly safe.”

“No,” I say shaking my head. “If you are going to fly like you drive, I’m going commercial.”

Dante smiles. “How cute you are. I never know what’s going to come out of your pretty mouth.”

“Very loud screams if you plan to fly us,” I grumble.

“Trust me, it’ll be the smoothest flight you’ve ever had,” he assures me suavely. I stare out of the windscreen marvelling at how my life has changed while he climbs out of the car and comes around to open the door for me. “Come along, I’ll show you my little toy.”

“If you crash that thing and I die, I’ll … I’ll haunt you for eternity,” I warn as he takes my hand and pulls my reluctant body out of the deep seat.

“Deal,” he murmurs, pulling me close to his body.

His body is warm and his hands are sure and strong. I look into his face. In the sunlight he looks like a stunning Greek statue. Every line perfect. I want to suck his sensuous lips into my mouth, and consume him … drink him in.

I turn my face away so he will not see how smitten I am with him. I pretend to look back at the seat and frown. “Soon I’ll be so big, I won’t be able to get out of your car on my own.”

“When that happens, we’ll use the Bentley and I’ll put one of those corny ‘Pregnant Woman Aboard’ stickers on the bumper,” he teases, his breath warm against my neck. I step away from him and we walk toward the plane’s boarding ramp, where to my relief a man in a pilot’s uniform and a stewardess are standing at attention. Maybe he was messing with me.

“Tell me that is a pilot I see?”

“That is a pilot you see.”

“So you’re not going to fly the plane?” I ask hopefully.

“Sorry, he’s my co-pilot.”

Suddenly I feel the backs of my eyes burn and I stop walking.

Dante stops too. “What’s the matter, bella?”

“I … I … uh … don’t know,” I say, tears flowing down my cheeks. “I’m never like this. I’m usually so strong and practical. It must be all the hormones going crazy in my system, but I think I actually preferred it when you were just another smooth-talking bastard.”

“Oh, baby,” he says gently, wiping my cheeks with his fingers. “I’m still the same cocky bastard. None of this is important.”

I look up into his eyes. In the sunlight they are molten-gold and hypnotic. I could look into them forever. “I’m not ready to meet your parents.”

“When you learned to swim, did you put one toe in first then another bit, and another bit, or did you jump in all at once?”

“All at once,” I reply.

“I thought so. You will not meet a single person in the palace that will be better than you. You won’t need the approval of anyone. Not even my father’s. Just be yourself and you’ll charm everybody. Besides, I’ll be next to you the whole time. Nothing bad will happen.”

I sniff.

“Do you trust me?”

I nod slowly. I never thought I’d say it and mean it, but I do trust him. Completely.

“That’s my girl,” he says, taking my hand and leading me forward.

Dante nods at the man wearing the captain’s uniform. “Morning, Captain. Is the flight plan turned in and everything set with customs?”

“Everything is ready, Your Highness. Once you are onboard, we’ll be on our way. Will you be piloting the plane on this trip?”

I hold my breath. Please don’t say yes.

Dante glances at me and smiles slowly. “No,” he says still looking at me.

We ascend the stairs and enter the jet. It’s like walking into a luxurious long room with leather sofas and cabinets with crystal glasses.

“Would you like a drink before we take off?” the stewardess asks with a smile as she stands over us.

I want to ask for a double shot of vodka. I feel like I am going to need a very stiff drink, but I smile and ask for a glass of juice. Dante orders the same and the stewardess brings two glasses of juice and sets them on the table in front of us.

“To us,” Dante says lifting his glass.

I touch mine to his. “To think that all this time, I never knew that I was just a little girl frog in a big pond waiting for a prince to come along and kiss me, and turn me into a princess.”

Dante laughs.

I look at him laughing and I know I’m doing the right thing. “You know what, Dante? If you really want to pilot this plane you can. I do trust you.”

He stops laughing and something changes in his eyes. For a moment it looks as if he is going to say something important, then he shakes his head, and the moment is gone.

“Captain Anderson is ready for you in the cockpit, Your Highness,” the stewardess says.

“Thank you, Elsa,” Dante says. “Please tell the Captain to call me if he needs me.”

“Relax, bella. I’m not leaving your side,” Dante says as he straps the seatbelt around my waist.

“Tell me everything I need to know about your family.”

For an hour he describes for me all kinds of little details about his family and life in the palace for which I am very grateful, but then I feel that familiar tiredness come over me.

“You look rather tired, my darling. Lay your head in my lap. I’ll massage your head until you fall asleep.”

I lay my head in his lap, and true to his word, Dante begins to run his fingers through my hair.

* * *

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. We’ve arrived,” Dante says.

“What … Where …” I ask sitting up, still in a sleepy fog. “You mean we are in …”

“Avanti,” he supplies, motioning to the window. “Look for yourself.”

I move over to the end of the sofa and glance out the window of the jet. It takes me a moment to assimilate what I am seeing. It’s a black Mercedes Limo with flags bearing the same coat of arms that is painted on the side of the jet, and a convoy of eight motorcycle outriders with drivers wearing bright red and blue uniforms.

“All this for you!” I exclaim.

“Royalty has its privileges.” His voice is light, but I catch an undertone.

I shake my head, still unable to wrap my mind around the fact that Dante is not an ordinary man. He is royalty.

“Yes, and I must warn you in advance that there will be people lining the streets to greet us as we pass,” he says.