8. AMANDA

“Uncle! Uncle!”

The twins come running out of nowhere, knocking me back to reality. I look away quickly, smoothing my hands down my skirt and trying to will my heart to slow down. I hope I’m not blushing.

My God, what was that? I felt like a rabbit snared by a cobra’s hypnotic gaze. Was the prince actually going to kiss me? Could that be possible?

Dante moves back to his own side of the bench as Oriana and Vito race down the stone path in their school clothes. He looks as flustered as I feel for a moment, but as soon as he catches sight of the kids, his face changes. His smile is as radiant as the rising sun.

“Who let these street urchins into my palace?” he crows indignantly as they reach the fountain. “Marco! What do I pay you for?”

They giggle as they sprint the last few yards to the bench, then stop short when they see me.

“Ms. Sparks!” Oriana pants, the long run catching up in her breathing. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Dante looks at me, brows raised.

“You’ve met?”

“Yesterday,” I say with a wide grin and a bow of my head. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highnesses.”

Dante is probably as grateful for the distraction as I am. I can still feel the warmth of his hand on mine, his breath on my lips. My mouth is still dry from the encounter.

“Are you planning Uncle’s birthday party?” asks Vito, dropping to the seat of his shorts on the emerald grass next to the bench.

“Looks like maybe you were up to something else,” Oriana says with a gleeful grin that makes me want to crawl into the bushes and hide.

Vito looks up at her. “Like what?”

“Like nunya,” says Dante.

“What’s nunya?”

“Nunya business, you little brat. Now get up here.”

Dante spreads his arms over the back of the bench and the twins climb into his lap, each claiming one of his thighs for their seat. Up close, I can see a few battle scars on their bare knees. Looks like they get at least a little time away from their regimented royal life to just be kids.

“What kind of trouble have you been causing today?” he asks with a stern glare.

Oriana glowers at him. “Maestro Salvatore said my violin sounded like a cat on the rack, so I told him when I’m queen, he’ll be sweeping the streets.”

“First of all,” says Dante, “we don’t have queens in Morova. Second, he’s probably right. Have you been practicing?”

“No!” Vito barks. “Her violin goes right in the wardrobe and stays there until our next music lesson.”

I have to suppress a giggle as she pounds him one on the arm. “Snitch!”

“Besides,” Vito says, ignoring her. “I’m the one who’s going to be ruler. Right, Uncle?”

Oriana frowns deeply at that. Can’t say as I blame her – it doesn’t seem right that her brother is next in line just because he happens to have a penis. She’s a full two minutes older than him.

“Why is it that way?” she whines. “How come I can’t be ruler?”

Dante grips her with a one-armed hug. Then he turns his face to me and nods for Oriana to do the same.

“You should ask Ms. Sparks,” he says. “She’s an expert on these things.”

“Are you really?” she asks, clearly impressed.

“I guess I am. But I’m afraid you won’t like my answer to your question.”

She sighs, deflated. I get the feeling she’s run into walls like this before.

“It’s because of tradition,” she says. “Right?”

“Right,” I say with a sympathetic smile. “A bunch of people set the rules a long time ago, and they stayed the same because nobody wanted to change them.”

“But it’s not fair!” she cries with indignation only a preteen girl can muster.

Dante raises an eyebrow and grins. You can field that one, too, that look says.

“Well,” I say. “Think of it this way. Your uncle has to do a whole bunch of things like standing around and watching parades, and signing legislation, and attending dinners with dignitaries. You know, like the boring stuff you learn to do in your studies. Right?”

Oriana nods. To my surprise, so does Dante.

“Meanwhile, Emilio gets to do whatever he wants. He can go horseback riding, or he can go waterskiing on the lake, or he can just sit around and watch Netflix if he likes. Which one sounds better to you?”

She chews this over for a moment.

“Emilio!” she says, brightening. “Uncle’s job sounds boring.”

Dante’s smile widens, even as Vito’s face darkens.

“Hey!” says Vito. “No fair! I don’t want to do boring stuff! I thought being the ruler was going to be cool!”

“You thought wrong,” says Dante, gripping them both in a hug. “Now, you two run along. Ms. Sparks and I have things to do.”

Their faces droop in resignation. Suddenly, Oriana’s lights up again.

“First you have to tell us what our names mean,” she says. “Then we’ll go.”

Dante rolls his eyes in mock frustration.

“Ugh!” he moans. “All right, if that’s what it takes to get you to go away and have your lunch.”

He leans in close to Vito’s ear. “Your name means life, because your mama and papa’s lives began when you were born,” he murmurs.

Vito smiles faintly – it’s obvious he loves this, but it’s also obvious he’s not too comfortable with me being here to witness all this mushy stuff.

Dante pulls Oriana close. “Your name means golden sunrise, because the day cannot begin without you.”

She kisses his stubbled cheek, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed by the undeniable urge to grab him and kiss him myself. I’ve never wanted a man the way I want him right now. Never even understood that I was capable of wanting anyone like this.

The twins hop off his lap and bow formally before taking off at a trot up the path towards the palace. “Arrivederci!” they call in unison as they disappear around a hedge.

Dante turns to me with a sheepish grin.

“If you tell anyone what you saw, I’ll deny it,” he says. “Maria had you sign a non-disclosure agreement, yes? I have a reputation as a scoundrel to uphold.”

“Of course,” I say, nodding gravely. “Morova would fall under such a scandal.”

His grin suddenly looks more like a grimace. Did I say something wrong? Then he’s back to his old self just as quickly.

“Come,” he says, taking my hand. I swear I can feel tiny sparks as his skin touches mine again. “Let me show you my favorite part of the gardens.”

He leads me into a narrow lane protected by ten-foot-tall arborvitae shrubs standing sentinel next to the path. My heart races as we walk, hand in hand. Dante is the first man I’ve touched since I made out with Levi Hull under the bleachers at my prom almost a decade ago.

The lane opens into a small, sheltered courtyard with a statue of a woman reclining in the center. I don’t recognize it.

“It’s Minerva At Rest,” he says, as if reading my mind. “It’s an early work by Ammannati. He was fascinated by the pair of Neptune and Minerva for some reason. Very few people venture to this section of the garden, so it’s virtually unknown. I doubt you could even find it on Wikipedia.”

It’s a beautiful work; raw, but the passion behind it is undeniable.

“What an incredible find,” I say. “Thank you for showing it to me. May I ask why it’s your favorite?”

“Minerva is the goddess of wisdom. Whenever I have a dilemma I can’t solve, I come here and discuss it with her. It’s where I was headed when I ran into you.”

He looks at me wide-eyed, as if surprised at what he’s just said.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “Non-disclosure, remember?”

It would be an unforgiveable breach of protocol to ask what problem had sent him here to bend Minerva’s ear.

“Does it have something to do with what you shouted yesterday?” some idiot asks.

Oh fuck, the idiot is me. Shit shit shit, what did I just do?!

Dante’s eyes narrow, and it’s as if the world disappears and only this tiny courtyard exists.

Please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me.

“In fact, it does,” he says. “And just like today, my chance meeting with you yesterday managed to shake me out of my funk and change my thinking, if only for a short time.”

I’m staring at him blankly now, heart hammering in my chest. My mind is reeling, trying to figure out something, anything, to say.

“You’re… welcome?” I croak.

Oh, that was fucking brilliant, Amanda. If you hurry, you can still get a seat on the red-eye back to America tonight.

I’m beginning to believe in out-of-body experiences. I swear I can feel my soul trying to squeeze its way out of me through my eyeballs and run away. Maybe I should just crumple to the ground and fake a seizure.

Before I know what’s happening, Dante closes the gap between us and grabs me by my arms. Then his lips are pressing against mine, warm and wet and electric.

Suddenly he breaks the contact and steps back, holding me at arms length, looking at me with eyes like moons.

“I’m – I’m terribly sorry,” he breathes. “That was – that was –”

“Incredible,” I finish for him, yanking him back towards me and covering his mouth with mine.