Raffaele wanted Maggie to feel comfortable in the palace, so he dispensed with the normal, elaborate greeting ritual and helped her sort out which of her bags needed to go to her room and which needed to go to the kitchen.

He walked her past the stern-faced guards who stood at the top of the steps on either side of the door. The two men were dressed in the traditional royal guard’s dress uniform—a white jacket with gold buttons and braid over blue pants.

When they got inside the door, Maggie leaned into him a little and said dryly, “I don’t why, but I was really expecting them to wear some kind of big funny hat.”

Raffaele grinned at her. “Only for special occasions.”

“I’m pretty sure everything I know about royal palaces comes from watching movies.” Maggie looked around as they walked up the grand staircase. “Your home is beautiful.”

Raffaele led her down a long hallway. “This is the family wing. My rooms are down there—” he pointed to the left, “if you need anything. But you can also ask any of the staff for assistance.”

He stopped at an impressive-looking door that was standing open. He cocked his head toward the room inside.

“Your chamber awaits, my lady.”

Maggie registered how much she liked hearing those words somewhere in the back of her mind, but the rest of her brain was occupied with the bedroom in front of her. Raffaele thanked the staff who had carried Maggie’s bags from the car and then watched Maggie as she explored the suite that would be her home for the next week.

The windows were edged in dark wood and draped with heavy cream-colored drapes embroidered with a delicate blue pattern. There was a fireplace with a crackling fire already burning, and in front of it were two comfortable-looking chairs. Next to one of the windows sat a writing desk, in a dark wood that matched the two bedside tables.

The bed was piled high with pillows and draped with a canopy that Raffaele thought was a little over the top, but Maggie obviously liked as she trailed her fingers across the mesh fabric.

She opened a door along the far wall, which Raffaele knew led to a spa-like bathroom. Maggie looked inside, then quickly looked back at Raffaele. She walked over to the large alcove along the other wall, which was set up as a sitting room with a couch and another chair.

Maggie turned back to him, her eyes wide. “Raffaele, this isn’t a bedroom. This is a luxury resort. This room is bigger than my parents’ house. If it were any bigger, I’d need a map.”

He chuckled. “Wait until you see the rest of the palace.”

“Said no one ever.”

“Until now,” he said and grabbed her hand impulsively. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

Maggie let him pull her along, walking through room after room. She exclaimed over precious artwork and marveled at the elaborate furnishings. Raffaele found her amazement endearing, and he found himself looking at his home through fresh eyes.

He was used to the luxury; he’d never known anything else. And he knew it wasn’t how most of the world lived.

His lifestyle really was indulgent. Everything he wanted was handed to him, literally on a silver platter. Raffaele had wondered from to time what it would be like to not have these advantages; it was part of the reason he gave so much to charity.

The thought occurred to him that he might soon have the opportunity to experience life without the opulence. His military service wasn’t going to take place in a palace. He wouldn’t have servants and a chef and a driver. Even though Raffaele wasn’t sure what his service would look like, he already knew he didn’t want any special treatment. He’d be fine without the luxury.

But for now, it was fun to watch Maggie discover his home. Raffaele ended their tour with a quick stop on the palace’s main terrace, which had a stunning view of the sea. He enjoyed watching Maggie take in the view and the crisp air, and he had the thought that making her happy was a worthy goal.

She looked up at him, eyes shining, and Raffaele lost track of what he was about to say. He could get lost in that look.

Giving himself a mental shake, Raffaele said, “I know you’re going to want to get right to work, but have lunch with me first. I’ll show you the kitchen and help you unpack your things there when we get back.”

Maggie nodded happily. “Lunch would be good. Let me freshen up just a bit and I’ll be ready to go.”

Raffaele made sure she found her way back to her room, and then waited somewhat impatiently for her downstairs. His heart skipped a beat when she smiled at him as she walked down the stairs. He smiled back and offered her his arm.

“You look lovely, Maggie.” She blushed and Raffaele tucked her hand in close to his side. “Ready for lunch?”

“Definitely,” Maggie said. “Where are we going?”

“My favorite place in the city.” She gave him an excited look and he grinned. “You’ll love it.”

They walked outside and to a small, nondescript car waiting at the foot of the steps. Raffaele opened the passenger door for Maggie and then walked around to the driver’s side.

When he slid into the car, he pulled two ball caps and two pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment and handed one of each to Maggie.

Maggie turned the hat over and then looked at Raffaele. “Really?”

He shrugged as he placed his own cap on his head. “It’s our disguise.”

Maggie snorted and said, “Is this an appropriate time for me to comment on the disparities between football and soccer?”

“You mean, American football and real football?” Raffaele asked cheekily.

“Hey, if you’re going to wear the gear—” she waved the cap at him, “you have to say nice things about American football.” Raffaele started to speak, but she cut him off, with a gleam in her eye. “Also known as real football, actual football, and the only football worth watching.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and pulled out of the driveway quickly. Maggie sat back in her seat, laughing.

“Tell me why we need disguises to have lunch?”

Raffaele looked at her a little more seriously.

“Being stalked by paparazzi is no fun. I usually wear some kind of disguise when I eat at Clarissa and Stefano’s restaurant. It’s just a tiny place and they don’t need to put up with the hassle.” He glanced at her again. “And neither do you.”

* * *

When Raffaele pushed open the front door to the tiny restaurant, the woman behind the counter looked up. Her face brightened and she hurried around to the other side.

“Prince Raffaele! I was just wondering when you’d be in again—I have a birthday present for you!”

“Hello, Clarissa! I have a present for you, too,” he said with a big smile.

He held out a small paper bag, which made Clarissa laugh.

“I’m running out of room in my kitchen,” she teased him, but took the bag and opened it excitedly.

She pulled out a purple mug with the words New Orleans printed on one side and a gold fleur-de-lis on the other. In the mug was a bag of coffee; Clarissa also pulled a bottle of Louisiana hot sauce out of the bag.

Raffaele leaned over and said softly to Maggie, “I get her a mug and some kind of local food from all the places I travel to.”

“He’s going to have to build me a house just for all the mugs,” Clarissa said, smiling. “Thank you, dear boy. I can’t wait to try these.”

Raffaele looked at her fondly. “Say the word, and I’ll build you a palace.”

Clarissa laughed. “Why don’t you introduce me to your lovely friend instead?”

Raffaele presented Maggie as if he were introducing her to royalty. “Clarissa, this is Chef Maggie Bechet. She owns the best restaurant in New Orleans, so naturally I had to bring her to my favorite restaurant here. Maggie, this is Clarissa Antolini.”

Maggie held her hand out, but Clarissa pulled her in for a hug instead.

“Ah, bella, I’ve heard that you are cooking for our prince’s birthday party.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie replied.

“Good. Now sit, you two, and I’ll bring you lunch.” She hurried off to the back of the restaurant after waving them to a table in the tiny dining room.

It was late for lunch, so they had the place to themselves. Raffaele told Maggie about how he had met Clarissa and her husband. After Raffaele finished college, he had been, he admitted, a bit aimless. His parents had thought it would do him some good to spend some time working in a job where he wouldn’t be “the Prince” and Raffaele, to annoy them, had decided he wanted to work in a restaurant.

The royal chef was good friends with Clarissa and her husband, so he’d suggested that Raffaele work in their family-run business. He’d be less likely to be a curiosity there, and he would actually have a chance to learn something.

Raffaele had surprised them all, including himself, by finding a love for food and the restaurant business, though to his family’s dismay, that hadn’t yet translated into a desire to be involved more with his family’s business.

When Clarissa brought out two large plates of seafood pasta, Raffaele was delighted to see Maggie’s eyes go wide. She poked around the dish in order to get a better look at it, then took a bite.

“Oh, good Lord, this is fantastic!” Maggie talked with her mouth full, and Raffaele laughed. “No, really, I’m going to spend all of the rest of my time here.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.” Raffaele grinned at her. He loved that Maggie liked his favorite restaurant.

Once they were finished, Clarissa took the plates and then came back out followed by a short, white-haired man carrying a small fruit tart with a single candle in it. Their beaming faces delighted Raffaele and he carefully took the plate from Stefano with a grin. He sat it on the table, closed his eyes, and blew out the candle.

They all clapped, and when Stefano asked him what his wish was, Raffaele winked at Maggie as he replied, “I think it’s already come true.”

Raffaele insisted that the couple sit with him and Maggie to eat the dessert, so Clarissa brought them all strong coffee to go with the tart.

Raffaele listened with good humor as the couple told Maggie stories about his time working at the restaurant, like the first time he tried to make pasta from scratch. Maggie asked about the specials and they swapped recipes, and Raffaele promised to bring her back again before she left Spiaggi.

Maggie talked about the meal, the restaurant, and Clarissa and Stefano all the way back to the palace, which Raffaele loved. She was obviously enjoying her visit so far, and Raffaele wanted to make the rest of her time in Spiaggi just as happy.

When they arrived back at the palace, Raffaele led Maggie into the kitchen and said, “I hope this is acceptable.”

Maggie took it all in as she spun about in a slow circle. The kitchen was at least three connected rooms, with four professional-grade stoves, two giant refrigerators, and more ovens than even she could use at once. It looked like there were miles of countertops, dotted with large and small appliances.

“Sure, I can work with this,” Maggie said in a dry tone. “If I get lost, just send a search party for me, okay?”

Raffaele laughed. “I’ll ask the staff to leave a trail of breadcrumbs.”

Maggie nodded and Raffaele could tell she was already in chef mode, thinking of how to arrange things. She asked, almost absently as she walked around, touching the counters and peering at the giant eight-burner stove, “Is there a particular part of the kitchen I should stick to?”

“You have this whole section. You may set this up to your liking and you’ll have most of the staff to work with you tomorrow.”

“Perfect. Can I ask how many people I’ll be able to borrow for prep and for the actual meal?”

“I believe Chef Luis has freed up around thirty people to help you with prep tomorrow, and then you’ll have whoever you need for the actual meal.”

That got Maggie’s attention, and she looked up sharply.

Raffaele continued, “And, of course, the serving staff will be available tomorrow to go over how you want the meal served. I’ve asked the sommelier to come in today and talk with you about what wines you would like to pair with the meal.”

Maggie nodded slowly.

“Is it okay if I sit down with your chef, the sommelier, and head server first? That way, if I need to tweak the menu, I can do it before we start prep tomorrow.”

“Of course, but they will be happy to work with the menu you’ve planned.”

Maggie smiled gently.

“I know, but this is their house. They’ve got the inside knowledge of what works best and what won’t work at all. I respect that and would rather get their thoughts now.”

Raffaele nodded, pleased at her thoughtfulness.

“Let’s get your things unpacked and then I’ll introduce you to Chef Luis.” He looked at her things, which had been delivered to the kitchen. “Where should we start?”

Maggie pointed to a large, sturdy tub with a locking lid.

“That first, please. Be careful; it’s a bit unwieldy.”

Raffaele easily lifted the heavy plastic tub onto the counter, then studied it.

“What, exactly, did you bring with you?” he asked, curious.

Maggie ticked off the items on her fingers.

“A few ingredients I wasn’t sure I could get here, several of my notebooks with recipes, my knives, a couple of cast-iron skillets…” She broke off as he gave her an uncertain expression. “That’s okay, right?”

He hesitated. “Of course. That’s fine.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. What did I do? I didn’t want to offend anyone by bringing dishes, but I’m so used to cooking in cast iron and I didn’t know if you’d have any.”

Raffaele held up a hand to stop her talking. “No, that’s fine. It’s just…well, it’s the knives.”

Maggie’s eyes got ever bigger. “My knives? I didn’t even…I can’t cook with anyone else’s knives.”

Raffaele gave her a solemn look. “You’re cooking for the royal family. You can’t just bring knives in willy-nilly without clearing it with security.”

Maggie stared at him, not entirely sure if she should take him seriously.

“You told me to bring whatever I needed.”

“Like spices or aprons or whatever fancy tool you’re using these days. Weapons, though…” He sighed dramatically. “Fortunately for you, I know the King. I’m sure we can work something out.”

It was the way his mouth crooked up at the corner that gave him away. Maggie slugged him in the arm and Raffaele pulled back, laughing.

“I promise, my knives are the least dangerous thing about me,” Maggie huffed.

Raffaele caught her hand and held it close. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

He held her eyes for a long moment that crackled with potential, but Raffaele let her hand go, not wanting to push her.

He continued more lightly, “What else do you need unpacked?”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Just for that, you can dig out the cast iron.”

She nodded at the tub again, and Raffaele grinned at her and began pulling things out carefully.

They worked as a team and in no time had all of Maggie’s things in order on the counters and stove, or stored in the cabinets.

As they finished unpacking, Raffaele called his family’s chef over.

“Chef Luis, do you have a moment?”

The older man joined them and shook Maggie’s hand as Raffaele introduced them.

“Chef Bechet wondered if she might have a few minutes with you to discuss preparations for the party.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Maggie looked at Raffaele. “I know you would be happy to be part of this conversation, but I’d like to surprise you with a few things.”

Raffaele grinned at her. “Are you telling me to go away?”

Maggie shrugged, but smiled. “I’m very politely suggesting that you might enjoy your party more if you don’t know every little thing that’s going to happen.”

Raffaele nodded. “In that case, I’ll leave you two professionals to talk shop.”

He started to walk away and then turned quickly, remembering.

“Maggie, my parents have asked that you have dinner with us this evening. They’d like to meet you.”

She replied, “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Excellent. I’ll stop by your room on my down. That way, you won’t get lost.”

Raffaele winked at her and got a tiny eye roll in return, which delighted him. He glanced back before he left the kitchen and saw that Maggie had found a kindred spirit in Chef Luis—they were already deep in conversation, both of them gesturing with their hands as they talked animatedly.

Over the next few hours, Raffaele tried to focus on a few things his mother had asked him to do, but found it hard to concentrate. His mind kept returning to Maggie, and finally, he gave up and got ready for dinner.

He changed clothes, taking extra care with his tie and shoes. He brushed his hair at least four separate times, and fidgeted with his cuff links. He realized he was nervous about dinner…or nervous about introducing his parents to Maggie.

He thought about that for a moment. He wasn’t nervous about Maggie, but he did want her to like his family. And he really wanted them to like her. He wasn’t worried at all that his parents would be disappointed with his birthday dinner; in fact, they’d likely be thrilled that it would be an elaborate, grown-up affair. Very different than some of his previous birthdays, he admitted.

But Raffaele wanted his family to like Maggie for herself, not just for the meal she was planning. Raffaele realized that he wanted his family’s approval.

When he knocked on Maggie’s door to escort her to the dining room, he was struck speechless as she opened the door. She had on a knee-length dark green dress that flowed around her legs. The high, scoop neckline flattered her shoulders and the long sleeves clung to her arms, then fell in a wide bell below her elbows. She looked beautiful.

Maggie raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat. “Everything okay?”

Raffaele was staring, so he tried to recover by giving her a small bow.

“You look lovely, Maggie.”

She smoothed her hands over the fabric of the skirt. “It’s okay for dinner tonight, right? I wasn’t sure what one was supposed to wear for dinner with the royal family, so I stuck with my Sunday best.”

Raffaele held out an arm. “It’s perfect.”

She took his arm and Raffaele felt the heat of her skin through his suit jacket. He’d known he was attracted to Maggie, but this felt like something different. Surely, he couldn’t be developing romantic feelings for her so soon? Yes, she was funny and smart and beautiful, but she also lived thousands of miles away.

When they reached the dining room, he felt Maggie hesitate on the threshold. Raffaele looked down at her.

“Remember our waltz at the ball?” She nodded. “I didn’t let you fall then, and I won’t let you fall now.”

Her brilliant smile sent a thrill through him and he nodded towards the door.

“Once more into the breach, dear friend.” As he’d hoped, it made her laugh and they walked into the room together.

Raffaele introduced her first to his uncle, King Filippo, and his aunt, Queen Alessandra. Then, he turned to his parents.

“Mother, Father, may I present Chef Maggie Bechet? Maggie, these are my parents, Roberto and Elena Caldini. And this—” he turned to his sister, “is Isabella, my older sister.”

Isabella nudged him. “You mean, your darling, beloved older sister.”

Raffaele shrugged. “I mean, my…”

Before Raffaele could finish his sentence, his mother interrupted him.

“Children, please.” Elena held out her hand to Maggie, who took it. “Chef Bechet, we’re delighted you’re here.”

Maggie smiled at Raffaele’s mother. “I’m thrilled to be here. It’s not every day a girl from New Orleans gets to cook for royalty.”

King Filippo gestured for all of them to sit down. Raffaele gently touched Maggie’s arm, pointing her to a chair, which he pulled out for her.

His uncle said, “New Orleans is a great city. I visited it many years ago.”

Maggie said, “I know I’m biased because it’s home, but it is beautiful. Spiaggi is stunning, too.”

As the first course was served, Roberto said, “Raffaele tells us you took over your parents’ restaurant after they retired. How do you like running your own business?”

“I like it, even when it’s challenging.” She tilted her head. “Or maybe because it’s challenging.”

Raffaele watched as Maggie charmed his parents. His parents chatted easily with her, his mother asking about Maggie’s family and the upcoming party, and his father asking questions about New Orleans and the restaurant. They bonded over discussing the challenges of running a business, and his father even offered some advice that Maggie accepted enthusiastically.

Maggie and his sister discovered a shared love of British television, and what Maggie referred to as “crunchy-gravel dramas.” They eagerly dissected the latest season of their favorite show, talking about what they thought would happen next.

Raffaele’s aunt and uncle asked more about Maggie’s menu for the party. Maggie gave them a brilliant smile and talked about how she and Raffaele were collaborating on the menu, emphasizing what excellent taste he had and how much he knew about food and restaurants. Raffaele was warmed by her kind words; she was supporting him in front of his family.

Dinner was delightful, Raffaele thought as dessert was served.

He was relieved that his father didn’t bring up his military service requirement. He wasn’t sure how to talk about it with Maggie; he didn’t want to hide it from her, but given that he didn’t really know anything about when and where he would be going, he wasn’t sure what to say.

Plus, their relationship—if it was indeed a relationship—was so new, that it might not even matter. He didn’t want to assume anything, but especially after seeing her with his family, Raffaele was starting to think that he wanted something more.

The family moved to another room for after dinner drinks, but Maggie politely declined, saying that the time difference and long day was catching up to her. Raffaele offered to escort her back to her room, and she accepted gratefully.

It was a quiet walk, but in a good way, Raffaele thought. He’d never felt so comfortable not talking to someone.

When they reached her door, Maggie turned toward him. “Thank you, Raffaele,” she said softly.

He tilted his head, wanting nothing more than to smooth back the hair that had fallen over her cheek. “For what?”

Maggie smiled. “For bringing me here. For showing me your home and introducing me to your family.”

Raffaele tried to shrug off the thanks.

“I’m delighted you’re here and thrilled that you and my family get along.”

Maggie nodded. “Me, too.”

Once again, Raffaele wanted to touch her. He was sure Maggie felt the same way. She looked at him with soft eyes and a smile that seemed to invite a kiss, but Raffaele didn’t want to assume or push. He leaned in and gave her a gentlemanly kiss on the cheek.

“Good night, Raffaele,” Maggie said and slipped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her quietly.

In his own room, Raffaele got ready for bed. He turned out the lights, but he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He tossed and turned as he kept thinking of Maggie. His brain went around and around with the possibilities. He liked her—he was growing fonder of her by the minute—but the chances of seeing her again after this week were almost non-existent.

Maggie had her life in New Orleans and he had his life in Spiaggi, and neither of them could give up those lives.

Right?