Stephani smoothed her hair with her hands, then rubbed her lips together and rolled her shoulders. She wished she could have gone home and changed clothes and then returned, but that would have taken over an hour. She had on the same navy pencil skirt and silk blouse she’d worn to work this morning, only now she was having dinner with Raoul in his suite.

He’d put her coffee at her elbow and then scribbled Dinner in my suite at 7 on the little notepad she kept on her desk. Would this be construed as a date? Their actual first date?

It wouldn’t be her first time in his private rooms. She’d had to come up here now and again when she’d needed him to attend to an urgent matter. This was different. This was a dinner for two.

Her. And Raoul.

She pressed a hand to her nervous stomach and counted to three, then lifted that same hand and knocked on the door.

Raoul opened it, and her mouth went dry.

He’d changed out of his suit and into a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, open at the collar and untucked at the waist. His feet were bare. This was the most casual she’d ever seen him, and it was utterly sexy. And here she was in her wrinkled skirt and blouse with a tiny dot of coffee on the cuff of her sleeve.

“Come in,” he said, and stepped back, a smile lighting his face. “I did something crazy and ordered in for us.”

She laughed as she stepped into the living area of his suite. “But you have a whole kitchen staff.”

“I also know where Señora Ortiz’s talents lie, and it’s not with your favorite.”

She was intrigued now. “My favorite?”

He nodded. “I sent Marco off to pick it up for us. It’s a surprise.”

He looked so pleased with himself she couldn’t help but smile in return, and feel a little bit special. She didn’t really have a favorite; she’d traveled extensively and enjoyed several kinds of foods. But clearly Raoul had put some thought and effort into this, so she’d go along and enjoy it.

“Prosecco?”

He held up a bottle that he’d had chilling and she nodded. One glass only; she had to go back to her apartment after dinner, but that was probably a few hours away. Raoul popped the cork and then handed her a glass. He poured while she held, and when he had a glass of his own, he touched the rim to hers. “I don’t want to sound trite or cheesy, so I’ll just say cheers, Steph. Thank you for coming to dinner.”

It was so lovely and genuine that she clinked back at him and said, “Yamas,” before taking a healthy sip.

“I sometimes forget you’re half Greek,” Raoul said, sipping his own. “You hardly ever speak it.”

“That’s because we use mostly English and Spanish here. It’s still the language of my home, though.”

“Have you considered going back?”

She nearly bobbled her glass and wondered for a split second if he knew how to access her private email. Of course he must, because they’d hired someone to do just that when Diego’s former assistant had leaked photos and information to the press. Did Raoul somehow know that she’d received a reply just today from a member of the Greek cabinet? Working on her home country’s education portfolio would be a wonderful job, wouldn’t it?

Except it wouldn’t be here. Greece was her home country, but it wasn’t home anymore.

Another knock sounded at the door, preventing her from responding to Raoul’s question. He answered it and then returned with a large bag in his hands. “Are you ready?”

He put the bag down on the table and started taking out dishes. It only took a moment for her to realize he’d ordered sushi, something that was never served at the palace and was, indeed, one of her particular favorites. “Oh, yum!” she exclaimed, peering around his arm and into the rest of the bag. “You got so much!”

“We can take any that’s left and put it in the fridge downstairs for tomorrow’s lunch,” Raoul suggested. “If there’s any left. I’m starving.”

She sat at the little table and began opening containers. They started with miso soup, hot and tasty. Then once that was gone, she picked up her chopsticks and selected from the tray of maki. Flavor exploded in her mouth and she closed her eyes. “Oh, that’s good,” she murmured, before reaching for another roll. “And you got sashimi, too.”

“I got a little bit of everything. If there’s something you don’t like, I probably will.” He grinned. “You know, when I was at university, my guilty pleasures were sushi and really good curries.”

“No pizza or late-night hamburgers for you?”

He laughed. “How about you? Did you go on any late-night food runs?”

Ceci had been studying in Barcelona and Stephani had gone to see her and stayed a whole month. “Ceci and I . . . we would go out and on the way back to her flat, there was this churro guy. We stopped every single time.” She smiled softly at the memory. “I guess I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“You really had some good times together.”

“The best.”

She toyed with a piece of tuna, then looked up at him. “This is really nice, Raoul. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I wanted something private, and I wanted you to be comfortable. I hope you are.”

She nodded, watching as he swirled his California roll in wasabi. “Is that why you ordered in? So it would be private?”

He lifted his gaze. “Partly. Marco can be utterly trusted, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve been thinking about how to do this without the staff seeing and talking.” He put down his chopsticks. “Sometimes the lack of privacy here is a real pain.”

She laughed a little. “Well, you could ask Rose and Diego, but they didn’t do a great job of covering their tracks, either. I don’t like the idea of being a topic of conversation, but I’m not sure how we’re going to be able to avoid it, especially if I keep having private dinners in your suite.”

He held up the prosecco bottle, but she shook her head. “I have to drive,” she said.

He refilled his glass, then went to a little fridge and took out a bottle of water, uncapped it, and handed it to her. “I’d say Marco could take you home, but you’d refuse, wouldn’t you?”

She took the bottle. “I would.”

“So sneaking around here isn’t an option.”

“I can’t see it being successful.”

Maybe this wasn’t going to work after all. Rose and Diego had thought they’d fooled everyone, but in reality, the entire staff knew that he’d been going to her room each night after the children went to bed and then leaving some time before midnight. Or that he’d taken her to the battlements for a moonlight picnic . . . Things got around. Either they’d have to make peace with that, or find another way.

“Let me think about it,” Raoul suggested, and they got up from the table. “I’m really great at problem-solving when I put my mind to it.”

She snapped the lid back on one of the dishes. “Oh, so now I’m a problem to be solved?” she teased.

“The best kind.” He stacked the dishes but left them on the table and instead reached for her, pulling her in close. “I wish we could just disappear for a while and figure out what all this is, and how we feel, and what we want. I’ve always known what it was to live in the public eye, but I’ve never wanted privacy any more than I do right now.”

“I wish we could do that, too,” she replied, winding her arms around his neck. “It’s new, and scary, and wonderful, and fragile, you know?” She took a breath, decided to trust him with her feelings. “I’m afraid that if people start putting in their opinions, we won’t stand a chance and this will be over before it really begins.”

He frowned. “But everyone loves you.”

Having him say so warmed her heart because she loved the Navarro family, too. “And they love you. But well-intentioned meddling would happen, and we’re already on shaky ground.”

He dipped his head and kissed her, soft and slow, until her head swam with it and she was dazed when he backed away.

“Does that feel shaky to you?”

She shook her head.

“Let me think about it for a while. See if I can’t come up with something so we can explore what’s happening without taking out a royal proclamation.”

She smiled then. She was afraid. He was, too. He’d had his heart absolutely crushed, but he was beginning to move on and he was being considerate of her feelings. Of all his qualities, his sense of honor was her favorite. Some considered Raoul a bit cold, particularly in comparison to the charismatic Diego. But those close to him knew that his reserve hid a huge, giving heart, and he would do anything for those he loved.

He looped his hands at the base of her spine. “So. Do you want to stay a while? We can talk. Watch something on TV. Maybe a movie?”

She nearly laughed. It was easy to see that Raoul hadn’t been on a first date in a while. He sounded so . . . hesitant, and that wasn’t his usual style. He was always decisive, in command. But he’d dated Ceci in the public eye. Married her, and had been married for nine years before losing her. Stephani found his uncertainty sweet and endearing.

“What would you normally do after dinner?”

“I’d normally say good night to Max and Emilia, but they’re in Paris with Lucy.”

“Oh.” She rather wished they were here, too. They were great kids, and Raoul seemed younger when he was around them.

“Do you . . . happen to play chess?” he asked hopefully.

And so it happened that they ended up in the library, seated at a chess table, trying to anticipate each other’s moves and indulging in a shocking amount of trash talk. When she took his knight, he cursed so fluently her mouth dropped open and then she burst out laughing, the sound ringing to the high ceiling. The game got more intense and the talk gave way to furrowed brows and trying to anticipate the next move. Raoul finally had her in check with no way out, and she tipped over her piece to end the game.

“Dammit,” she muttered, leaning back with a sigh. “I nearly had you.”

“Yes, you did.” He grinned, elated at his win. “You’re a worthy opponent, Savalas.”

“I’ll get you next time, Navarro.”

“I look forward to it. But . . . not if I get you first.”

The banter had turned to teasing, and something wild and wonderful expanded in Steph’s chest. For this one split second, he wasn’t Ceci’s Raoul, or even just Raoul. For a brief moment, he’d become her Raoul, and fleeting as it was, it was a feeling she’d cherish for a long time.

* * *

Stephani looked around her apartment one last time and bit down on her lip. Seven minutes to go and Raoul would be here. She knew it would be seven minutes because he was accustomed to being precisely on time, and perhaps a little early.

The place was spotless. Her cleaning service had come yesterday and given the place a top-to-bottom scrubbing, and this afternoon Stephani had made sure everything was in its place. Still she worried what Raoul would think of it. Her taste was nothing like the decorating at the palace. There it was rich and worked to impress. Her style was more what she’d call cozy chic.

Three minutes.

Maybe it had been a dumb idea, inviting him here for dinner. To keep herself from going crazy, she checked on the dish in the oven one more time. The stuffed eggplant recipe had been a favorite of her childhood, and her grandmother had made it when she went to stay. Stephani’s béchamel was never as good as yaya’s, though it was passable. She just hoped Raoul liked it.

Her phone rang and she nearly tripped over herself, rushing to pick it up. “Hello?”

“We’re just pulling up.”

“Third floor, second door on the left off of the elevators.”

“See you in a minute.”

She raced to the balcony and looked down, saw one of the plain sedans pull up outside. No official limo. It felt a bit dangerous, sneaking around. But the press seemed to pop up without warning. Even last year, a picture had shown up following Raoul’s birthday, of him and Rose in the palace gardens. That, though, had been an inside job.

Marco, she knew, could be trusted. And she doubted anyone else in the household knew where Raoul was tonight. After all, that was the job of the security team and, well, her.

She opened the door just as he was about to knock, and laughed at the look of surprise on his face. “Come in,” she offered, pushing her nerves away. Nothing could be changed now.

He stepped inside and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I was going to bring you flowers, but I didn’t want anyone to ask any questions.”

“It feels a little strange, sneaking around.” She squeezed his hand. “Kind of exciting, but also . . . I don’t know. Like we’re doing something wrong.”

“It’s not wrong, it’s private. And speaking of, did you want to shut the door?”

She laughed and closed it with a firm click. “Sorry. And welcome to my home.”

He looked around, then back at her with a smile on his face. “It suits you. Simple, not overdone, but inviting. It’s nice, Steph. Really nice.”

“Thanks.” She went to the kitchen and got glasses for the bottle of red she’d uncorked earlier. “I decorated it a piece at a time. Nothing really matches, but somehow—”

“It all fits together.” Raoul smiled and followed her, then stood across the counter from her. “That’s one of my favorites.” He nodded at the bottle.

“I know.” She grinned. “My job has its privileges. Knowing your preferences is one. That doesn’t apply to dinner, by the way. I made one of my childhood favorites.” She handed him the glass of wine. “Tonight you get a taste of my Greek upbringing.”

“I look forward to it.”

They touched rims and drank of the rich, ruby wine. There was no question of him driving; Marco would be back to pick him up whenever he called. Steph also had a bottle of his favorite Marazurian brandy in her cupboard for after dessert.

Raoul put his glass down and came around the counter. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.”

She took his hand and he pulled her into an embrace. “Every day at the office I have to watch what I say. How I look at you.” He kissed the hair just above her ear. “It’s not even a matter of keeping it professional. I would never do anything inappropriate.”

“I know that. It’s been driving me crazy, too.”

“I keep thinking, what if Sofia or my father walks by? Or one of the security team or staff? How are we supposed to be real with each other if we self-monitor every word and action?”

“I know,” she repeated, unsure of what else to say. Maybe she should tell him she’d had other job offers. She’d been sitting on them, not wanting to turn them down but not in a place where she could accept just yet, either. If she didn’t work at the palace, maybe it would be easier. But then, all the offers had come from off-island. Right now leaving meant leaving Marazur altogether. That wouldn’t make dating any easier, would it?

“The children are back tomorrow afternoon.” He rubbed his hands over her back and she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the sensation. “So are Lucy and Brody.”

“You must have missed them,” she murmured.

“I have, but it’ll mean even less privacy for us, Steph.”

She pulled back. “What are you saying, Raoul? Is this too difficult for you? I don’t like the sneaking around either, but I don’t know what else to do. We need to sort this out on our own time.” Despite her deep feelings for him, she didn’t want to rush anything. They both needed to be sure, and ready.

He met her gaze. “It’s difficult, but not too difficult. We’ll figure it out, okay?” He brushed a thumb over the crest of his cheek. “I’m still getting used to the idea that I can hold you, kiss you. That there’s something more than work and friendship between us.”

“I know you’re unsure of your feelings.”

“Not unsure. Cautious. I want to have a few things figured out before I try to explain it to anyone else, that’s all.” His thumb traced a path from her cheekbone to the soft spot just in front of her ear. “And I want to make sure you don’t get hurt in the process.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”

“Yes, you have. And I admire you for it.” He kissed her lightly. “Now, whatever is in your oven smells delicious. When do we eat?”

She laughed a little, kissed him, and then stood back and reached for her oven mitts. “It should be ready anytime,” she answered. “Why don’t you take the wine to the table?”

While he was gone she took the eggplant out of the oven and put the dish on the stovetop to let it rest for a few minutes. She grabbed the salad from the fridge and put it on the table while Raoul lit the candles. When she came around the corner with the main dish, Raoul was topping up their wineglasses.

“That smells wonderful.” He waited for her to put the dish on the table before holding out her chair. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed up at him. “Before working for you, I was on my own. It was cook or starve. Besides, my family used to be close, and we’d have these great Sunday meals. Cooking feels like comfort to me.”

“Now everyone is spread out.”

“Or gone,” she said quietly. “She straightened and smiled. “Well now, that’s just depressing. Let’s eat instead, and talk about happier things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, like what sorts of souvenirs Lucy will let the children bring back.” She served him a section of the stuffed eggplant. “And what they’ll bring you. I bet it’s Mickey Mouse ears and they’ll make you wear them.”

He grinned. “Lucy will do something to make me look ridiculous.”

“And you’ll secretly enjoy every moment.”

“I will.”

They managed to make small talk over the meal. Raoul took a second helping, more wine was poured, and Stephani got up to make the strong, dark coffee she would serve with dessert. To her surprise, Raoul helped clear the table and rinsed dishes while she loaded them in her dishwasher. She poured the coffee from the press and cut slices of samali cake, another one of her childhood favorites. Raoul took one look at the syrupy cake and his eyes lit up.

“I know what that is! Ceci’s mother made it once, when we were dating. It’s semolina cake, with that weird flavor.”

Stephani laughed. “Yes, it’s called mastic. Not everyone likes it, but I love it. Especially when there’s lots of syrup soaking through.”

They drank coffee and ate the sticky dessert, then Stephani took the dishes to the kitchen and came back with both the bottle of brandy and more wine for herself. “To round out the meal,” she said, “I have brandy. Why don’t we go out on the balcony?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Her balcony was covered, so the bright evening light was shaded from their eyes as they sat in wicker chairs, looking out over the city. The location of her building was on a hilltop, and on a clear night, such as this one, she could see right down to the sparkling water of the harbor. Pots of geraniums brightened the little space and added a spicy, floral smell to the air. She sipped at her wine, looked out at the skyline, looked over at Raoul, and realized that her life had turned out pretty amazing, no matter what the future held.

“You look happy,” he remarked.

“I am happy.” She held his gaze. “You’re here. I have a full belly, a lovely place to live, a fantastic job. My life is feeling rather charmed at the moment.”

“Tranquilo,” he murmured.

“Sí,” she replied, reverting to his native Spanish. “Estoy muy contenta aqui.”

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy, Steph. No matter what happens, I want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy right now, and that’s all that matters. The future will take care of itself.”

As soon as she said the words, she felt a calm descend. Why was she so worried about what people would say or how things would end? All that did was color the experience of the moment.

He let out a short laugh, a puff of skepticism but without any teeth behind it. “The future rarely takes care of itself.”

“Granted, sometimes things don’t go as planned. But I think that looking after the present is the best preparation for the future, and a whole lot less stressful.”

She finished the wine in her glass, felt the liquid slide down her throat, the little woozy rush in her head that told her she’d had enough, but not too much. Raoul was still sipping on his brandy, but the date had gone well, and she was getting impatient. They’d kissed on their date at the palace, and he’d made her weak in the knees in the library after the chess game, then put her in her car to go home. It had been five days since then, with no kisses, no touches, no nothing. She was tired of waiting, and the little kiss in the kitchen had only whet her appetite.

She put her glass down on a little table and stood, then moved over to his chair and leaned over just a little, so that her hair fell over one shoulder and she could see the black ring around his chocolate brown irises.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, clutching his glass.

“Being in the moment. Do you mind?”

He shook his head, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Not at all.”

“Good.” She took his glass from him and put it beside her empty one, then returned and slid onto his lap. She was taking the lead and it felt amazing. “Raoul?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”