21. DANTE

Marco’s weight shifts to his forward foot as he prepares to step out of the shadowy corner where he’s been standing, but I halt him with a raised hand. His face droops, but he stays where he is.

I push Giselle out of the way to get to Amanda.

“Are you hurt?” I ask. Her cheek is slightly pink where the slap landed.

“Pft,” she says, eyes blazing. “She couldn’t swat a fly with a swing like that.”

I kiss her cheek anyway. Our encounter has stirred up plenty of interest among the other patrons, and the paparazzi aren’t even trying to stay hidden now. Half a dozen of them are openly filming with their mobiles.

Giselle’s face is beet red, whether with anger or embarrassment I don’t know. Probably both.

“You little bitch,” she breathes, eyes wide. “I’ll have you arrested – ”

“Bring it!” Amanda barks.

I know this isn’t funny but it’s all I can do to keep from laughing like a maniac right now. How many times in my life have I wished that I could do what Amanda just did? I’m so proud of her I could burst.

Some of the patrons move closer to get a better view of the scene. Now I feel like we’re on one of those reality television shows that feed on childish behavior.

“I’m actually glad that you’re here, Giselle,” I say. “Since you seem to have a problem taking no for an answer, let me make things abundantly clear for you.”

I drop to one knee and take Amanda’s hand in my free one. The other is still holding my mother’s ring.

The gasp among the Riviera’s elite is audible.

“My love,” I say. “Even though we’ve only been together a short time, I find that I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The words flow out of me, though different from the ones I rehearsed on the flight from England. Amanda does her part by looking astonished.

“Your kindness, your grace, your incredible beauty have humbled me in a way I didn’t know was possible. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake, and the last before I sleep. When you walked into my life, it was as if someone had opened a window into a beautiful world that I didn’t even know existed.”

I let go of her hand and open the box to reveal the ring.

“Amanda Sparks,” I say. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

My heart hammers in my chest, even though we both know she’ll say yes. After all, she’s under contract.

As I gaze into those pale blue eyes, though, I can’t help but feel a moment of panic. What if she says no?

I don’t think of the monarchy, or my fortune, but of the twins. And myself. After only a handful of days, Amanda has become an indispensable part of our lives.

Then the tears squirt out of the corners of her eyes, and as she nods, my heart soars.

“Yes,” she says, snuffling back tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

I slip the ring onto her finger and rise to my feet. Somewhere around us, I’m vaguely aware of flashes going off and people cheering. But all I care about is her. When we’re this close, the world disappears again.

Amanda’s mouth meets mine for the second time today. Not probing this time, but familiar. Each long kiss ends with another short one, a signature at the end of the letter. After what seems like an eternity, we stop, letting our brows touch, feeling the closeness as we stare into each other’s eyes.

I’m suddenly aware of all the people clapping around us.

“I guess we can’t put it off any longer,” she says with a soft grin.

We both inhale deeply and turn to face the cameras.

* * *

“Holy shit!” cries Amanda. “We’re already on TMZ!”

I take a seat next to her on the Falcon’s sofa as we streak through the skies back to Morova. Marco is in the jump seat of the cockpit, chatting with our pilots and giving Amanda and me some privacy.

“That didn’t take long,” I say, handing her a bottle of Stella Artois.

“Thanks,” she says absently, still looking at the screen of her MacBook. “I really don’t like champagne.”

“Sorry, we don’t carry Budweiser on the jet. But I’ll have Maria bring some in as soon as possible.”

“You’ll be my dad’s best friend if you do.”

From your lips to God’s ear.

“The headline reads ‘Who’s that girl?’” she says, frowning. “They’re using the bio information Renaldo fed them and posting pics from my Facebook page. That’s kind of creepy.”

“I truly am sorry,” I say. “Privacy and royalty rarely go hand-in-hand. Are you sure you’re prepared for what’s to come?”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t. It’ll just take some getting used to. I never thought about social media, though. Dad’s probably not the only one I should have warned about this.”

As if to underscore what she just said, the screen fills with message notifications.

“Shit,” she mutters. “Now I’ve got about two dozen ‘OMG!’ posts from people. I’ll let Dad know that he can tell my family. The friends I’ll worry about later.”

She looks at me with an evil smile. “Let them stew in their jealousy for awhile.”

This woman continues to surprise me. I feared the attention might turn her into a shrinking violet; instead it’s unleashed a beast.

“Did any of the photographers catch your right cross on video?” I ask.

“At least one,” she says sheepishly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was self-defense, and I have an army of lawyers. You’ll never see the inside of a courtroom.”

“That’s good. I’ve seen Orange Is The New Black. I know what goes on inside prisons.”

I can’t help but chuckle. What on earth did I ever see in a woman like Giselle? The only time she ever laughed was at someone else’s expense.

“Oh my God,” says Amanda, rolling her eyes at the screen. “Someone’s already created an ‘Amandante’ hashtag on Twitter.”

“Well, it’s good to know we’re trending.”

She cackles at my lame joke. “Yeah, who needs wedding invitations? We can invite everyone by social media.”

“But we’ll have to take all the formalities out of it if we want to stay under 140 characters.”

“How about ‘Hashtag Amandante wedding, be there! See our website for deets!’”

We chuckle together as I slide alongside her to read the screen. In truth, I’m not paying attention to the online chatter – it’s been part and parcel of my life for a decade. I just want to be closer to her.

“What is that intoxicating scent?” I ask. “I’ve been wondering all day.”

Her cheeks suddenly turn red.

“You’re going to laugh,” she says.

“I would never,” I say gravely.

“You promise?”

“On my princely honor. Whatever that is.”

“Okay. It’s Fantasy by Britney Spears.”

I do an admirable job of resisting the urge to laugh. Instead, I lean in closer.

“What is your fantasy, Amanda?” I ask, eyes locked on hers.

“I guess I’m living it,” she says quietly. “I mean, I just got engaged to the most handsome prince in the world.”

“You must have more fantasies than that.”

Our noses are almost touching. She bites her bottom lip.

“I do,” she breathes. “Lots more.”

The computer slides off her lap and makes a muted thump as it hits the carpeted floor below.