Chapter 4
“WELL, I CERTAINLY HOPE she doesn’t expect for you to entertain her every day!” complained Madame Gothel on Sunday afternoon. “We got so busy that I had to step in!”
God forbid you actually work at the business you own.
Careful that her madrina wouldn’t see her eyes roll, Bella made certain her face was neutral before looking up. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, Madame.”
“Oh, Bellllla, darling. It’s not your fault. It’s flattering, I suppose, that the princess would seek out your company,” sniffed Madame. “Though I can’t imagine whyyyyyy.”
Bella looked up at her godmother, on her guard. “What do you mean?”
“Well, my dear,” she said, holding out her hands palms up as she leaned her head to the side, “you’re a simple country girl. Of what interest could you possibly beeeeeee to her?”
“We spoke about Ticino...about wine...about my parents—”
Madame Gothel sighed heavily, adding under her breath, “Stimulating conversation for a royal.”
“She seemed to like me,” murmured Bella, wondering if Nico had been faking his interest in her. Had she been boring to him? Provincial? Simple?
“Of course she did.” Her godmother cupped her cheek. “You are a...pleasant sort of girl.”
Bella stepped back, out of her godmother’s reach.
“Madame,” she started, then cleared her throat, mustering her courage. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. You are—I mean, you do intend to let me take over here someday, don’t you?”
Madame Gothel’s eyes widened, and she straightened her head, pursing her lips with displeasure as she stared at her goddaughter in surprise. “What a bold, inelegant question.”
“I don’t mean to offend you. I just assumed. The classes. The training. But we’ve never actually discussed it.”
Her madrina chortled softly. “All that is so that you can be my helper, dearest.”
Chattel in velvet chains.
“But my parents...” She was about to say, But my parents always intended that I inherit and run the grotto and vineyard, which is why she had assumed that Madame, who had no children, had planned to do the same with her business.
“Your parents...what?” Madame’s expression grew instantly icy. “Were you about to refer to your parents’ money? What little they gave me to care for you?”
“No,” said Bella, though Nico’s words returned to her: Surely your parents left you something? “But now that you mention it...did my parents leave me anything?”
“Yes.” Madame raised her chin. “Pennies.”
Bella thought back to her parents’ business: to the wine bottles that they boxed and loaded onto a truck for distribution each year, to the seemingly endless crowds of tourists who kept the grotto busy all spring and summer long. Had they been in debt? Less successful than Bella remembered?
“Are you certain?” she dared to press.
“This is outrageous! You have lived under my roof, enjoying my hospitality, dear Bella, for five years now. Even if there had been anything when you arrived, it has certainly been spent by now.”
“But, Madrina—”
“Enough!” shouted Madame Gothel, her eyes blazing. “One afternoon with a princess, and you return ungrateful and—and entitled. Well, I’ll tell you what you’re entitled to, pet: nothing. You’re twenty-two years old now. When you’re ready to move on, I certainly won’t stand in your way.”
Move on? thought Bella, a wave of panic making her chest tighten. With what? All she had was the cash tips that clients slipped into her hands without Madame’s notice. It was barely enough for a week’s stay at a seedy hotel, let alone enough to set up an independent life.
“No, Madame,” she said, realizing how trapped she was. “I’m so grateful to you for—for everything. I didn’t mean to sound entitled or ungrateful. You’ve been very good to me.”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you, Madrina,” she said softly.
“Well, now you’ve upset me,” said her godmother, sniffing as she pulled her black cardigan sweater more snugly around her bony shoulders. “After everything I’ve done for you...” She whimpered softly, looking at Bella with eyes that were much more angry than hurt. “I think I’d better go and rest for the remainder of the afternoon. Close up at three. Clean up here. And be quiet when you come home. I need time to recover from this—this...unpleasantness.”
“Yes, Madame,” she said, watching her madrina turn and head for the glass doors.
At the last moment, Madame Gothel turned. “Out of respect for your mother, dear Karin, I took you in. But lest you have forgotten, you are not, in fact, my daughter or my blood. What I do for you, I do out of pity. Don’t ever take me for granted again, Bella...or question my intentions.”
“No, Madame,” Bella whispered, tears biting at her eyes at the mention of her mother’s name.
“Should it ever happen again, I fear we will need to say farewell, dearest,” she said sharply. “Am I understood?”
“Yes,” murmured Bella, lowering her head as her godmother entered the elevator and disappeared from view.
Oh, Mama. I miss you.
Bella took a deep, unsatisfying breath and shook her head.
There’s no future here, she thought, reaching up to swipe at her eyes. I’m trapped—just like Nico said. A slave. A...pet. Is this what you want, Bella? Is this the life you want? The future you want? If not, do something to change your fate.
She thought about Nico—about his assertion that they were both trapped. But for the first time, she understood that she was not actually trapped in the same desperate way that he was. She could, in fact, if she planned carefully, choose to leave this life behind and create a different one. Nico, on the other hand, would be a prince from cradle to grave, with all the pressures and expectations of that birthright.
She sighed, sitting behind the reception desk as the unexpectedly quiet afternoon wore on, distracting herself by reviewing every precious detail of her date with Nico yesterday: the surprise that he was a prince, the lovely lunch at the boathouse, the way he looked in the sunlight as he rowed her around the lake, the profusion of color in the gorgeous garden, and the way it felt to be kissed—really kissed—for the first time in her life.
Leaving him standing at the top of the stairs, his face remorseful, his voice desperate, had carved a hole in Bella’s heart, and it ached now, throbbing as she traced the lines of his face in her mind. It hurt to know that he was here in the hotel for several more days but that she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see him. She’d fallen hard for him yesterday, and subsequent dates would only make their final farewell unbearable.
Looking up, she found Greg, the Sunday concierge, exiting the elevator and opening the glass doors of the salon. Bella fixed a smile on her face, glancing down at the reservation book. No doubt Greg had some appointments to make.
“Hey, Bella,” he said.
“Hi, Greg,” she answered brightly. “Do you have some new clients for me?”
“Uh, no, actually.” He placed an envelope on the shiny chrome surface between them. “This is for you.”
“For me?”
Greg nodded. “For you. And I’m meant to say that if you require something to wear, you’re to give your name at Maxime’s and Renata will take care of you, all expenses paid.”
“Take care of me?”
“Close the store. So you’ll have privacy to shop.”
Bella’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at Greg, trying to understand what was going on. Maxime’s was one of the hotel boutiques that sold top-of-the-line ladies fashions at exorbitant prices, and Renata was the store manager.
“I don’t understand.” She glanced down. “What’s in the envelope?”
“I have no idea,” said Greg. “It came to me via messenger with the express instruction that I personally deliver it to you, creating a distraction, if necessary, to be sure it was given to you in private.”
“I...”
A small walkie-talkie on Greg’s belt loop beeped twice, and he looked down at it. “Duty calls. See you around, Bella.”
He turned and left the salon, pressing the elevator call button and stepping into the lift as soon as it arrived. Picking up the envelope, Bella stared at it for a moment before opening it.
The first thing she withdrew was a ticket to the eight o’clock performance of Wicked. Gasping with surprise, she giggled softly with delight as she stared at it pinched between her fingers, noting the seat was ORCH D-102. She knew enough about Broadway theaters to know that the ticket she held in her hands was for a seat somewhere in the front/middle of the theater—a perfect and very expensive seat.
The second thing she withdrew was a note. It had no signature, nor a greeting. It read simply, Please.
Nico.
Her heart soared as she held the ticket in one hand and the note in the other.
Whatever willpower she’d mustered yesterday disappeared like a puff of smoke, and she sighed with happiness. She would choose wonderful with him, and suffer unwonderful without him later.
How in the world could she say no?
NICO HAD ARRIVED AT the theater thirty minutes in advance and had been seated promptly. But now, with five minutes left before the show was supposed to start, his hopes were waning. Bella had been quite firm with him yesterday about being unable—or unwilling—to see him again, and truly he understood why. She was right to avoid him. Smart. He was, as he’d observed to her yesterday, a bad bet—a man spoken for, for all intents and purposes. And yet he couldn’t give up on the sheer pleasure of her company without one last try. It was probably playing dirty to offer her a ticket to the one show she wanted so desperately to see, but offering her any less than her heart’s desire seemed pointless. As for arranging a private session at Maxime’s? He didn’t want to give her an excuse to say no. While his allowance was meager compared with other princes of Europe, it was certainly enough to spoil a pretty girl a little.
And yet it appeared that his careful plans were in vain. Turning back toward the stage, he sighed in disappointment. With three minutes until curtain, it looked like he’d be watching the play alone.
More’s the better, he tried to convince himself. Why should she and I get to know each other better, creating wonderful memories, when we have to say good-bye on Friday? What’s the point? He rubbed the beard on his chin, trying to make peace with his situation. She’s wise to stay away.
“Mi scusi, credo che questo sia il mio posto.” Pardon me, but I think that’s my seat.
His heart started racing as a smile burst across his face. Nico looked up to see a goddess standing beside him, grinning down at him with her wonderfully warm, fresh, familiar smile. He leaped to his feet, drinking in the sight of her face as she tilted her head back to look up at him.
“Bella,” he murmured. “Sei qui e sei bellissima!” You’re here and you’re so beautiful.
“Grazie,” she said, dipping into a small curtsy before looking back up at him. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Nor could I,” he said, trying to hear her over the fierce hammering of his heart.
Her lips were pink and glossy, and her long, dark tresses were curled and pinned back, falling over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Pale pink and gauzy, the knee-length dress she wore fit her petite frame perfectly, making her look even more angelic and innocent than usual. His eyes trailed over her body covetously, his mouth watering as he traced the lines of her bare legs.
“You’re a vision.”
“I’m returning the dress tomorrow,” she said, easing past him to take her seat, her small breasts brushing against the crisp, white cotton of his dress shirt.
“The hell you are,” he muttered. “I’ll tell them not to accept it.”
“Don’t make me regret coming,” she said, sitting gracefully in the maroon velvet seat before looking up at him with no-nonsense brown eyes.
“Fine. Return it,” he muttered, taking his seat beside her as the lights went down.
But when the orchestra started playing the overture, he reached for her hand, taking it in his gently, weaving their fingers together and desperately hoping she wouldn’t pull away.
What would it be like, he wondered, to marry for love instead of duty? To come home to someone like Bella every night? No doubt she would run around the vineyard rows with their children, laughing and warm, and at night—O, Dio—at night, he would hold her small body in his arms, the softness of her breasts falling over his forearm, her curves fitting perfectly against him, skin to skin, reaching for each other under the covers before finally sleeping.
A brief vision of Princess Elena flashed through his head—his mother had e-mailed Nico a picture of her this afternoon. She was accompanying a UN Peacekeeping mission through Ethiopia right now, and the picture was of her—with her short blonde hair, angular body, dust-covered face and serious expression—holding a starving black child in her arms.
Elena was a good person. Such a good person.
He would try his best to do right by her. To be good enough for her. To make his family proud.
But for now...just for now, in his last, precious moments of freedom, he would selfishly forget about her and concentrate on the lovely girl beside him. Turning just slightly, Nico watched Bella’s face in profile: her wide eyes and parted lips, her swanlike neck long and graceful in the half light from the stage. He’d tasted those lips, and it had only whetted his appetite further.
He heard an echo of laughter in his head, felt a quick flash of longing as he thought of Bella chasing their children through a sunlit vineyard...
No, insisted his brain, shutting down the heavenly vision.
It would never be.
Though he was falling for her madly, there was no future for them, and dreaming of it would only make saying good-bye harder.
“O, Dio!” she cried softly, turning to face him as the lights came up. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“You’re enjoying it?” he asked, grinning at her exuberance.
She sighed. “The way she flew! The special effects are just...” She grinned at him, cocking her head to the side. “Am I going on and on?”
“Am I complaining?”
“No,” she said, but she felt self-conscious, recalling Madame’s harsh words, ...you’re a simple country girl. “But I don’t want to bore you.”
“Bore me?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.”
“Ha. A simple country girl from Ticino? Right.”
“I mean it, Bella,” he insisted. “You’re just...you. All your emotions on the surface. All your words honest and true. No games. No angles.”
“Angles?”
“When you’re a prince, sometimes it feels like everyone’s working an angle.”
“Hmm,” she said, her heart clenching, “I’m sorry for that. It must be a terrible way to live your life.”
His expression lightened. “Tonight, nothing is terrible. Tonight, Bella cara, everything is perfect because you’re here beside me.”
“Prince Charming,” she teased.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers—the sweetest, lightest touch, but Bella felt it in her toes.
“For you? Yes. I will be as charming as possible.” He stood up, still holding her hand. “And to that end, cara, how about a glass of champagne?”
“I’d love it,” said Bella, letting him lead her up the aisle.
After their bubbly, they resumed their seats for the second act, which was even more emotional than the first, and Bella found herself crying by the end, a surprise reunion between two characters making her heart full to bursting.
A handkerchief appeared in her hand, and she wiped her cheeks gently, careful not to smear her carefully applied makeup. She’d enjoyed dressing up like a princess just for tonight—doing her hair, makeup, and nails in the quiet salon after everyone had gone home, then visiting Renata to choose a dress. Renata had tried to convince her to choose a sexy black cocktail dress, but it didn’t feel at all like Bella. When she saw the pale-pink tulle, goddess-style cocktail dress, she hadn’t been able to look away. And from the look on Nico’s face when she arrived, it had been the right choice.
As he led her from the theater after the show, they found horses and carriages for hire outside, and Nico insisted that they take a ride together. The evening had grown chilly during their show, so the driver handed them a nubby wool blanket that Nico laid across their laps before putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her snugly against him.
Though the sensible part of Bella’s brain knew that she should insist on finding a cab and heading home alone, she couldn’t resist the romance of a moonlight carriage ride with a prince. She sighed in happiness, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes as they clip-clopped away from Times Square and toward Central Park.
“Why’d you come?” asked Nico softly, his deep voice close to her ear.
“I couldn’t stay away,” she answered honestly.
“I shouldn’t have invited you,” he said, holding her closer, his hand heavy and warm on her upper arm, where he rubbed gently.
“I shouldn’t have said yes.”
“But you did.”
“I did,” she said, opening her eyes and tilting her head back to look up at him. “And I would again.”
“Would you? If I asked you to meet me tomorrow? You would?”
She nodded. “There’s no use resisting you. As long as you’re here...I won’t say no again.”
Her words sounded forlorn, though, and Nico flinched.
“Bella,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you. I can—I mean, I will leave you alone...if you tell me to. I’ll tell the driver to stop. I’ll say good-night and leave this carriage. I’ll pay him to take you home, and I won’t bother you again. I promise.”
“That would hurt me more,” she said, her eyes dropping briefly to his lips before skating back up to meet his gaze.
“We only have a handful of days...and even those are spoken for. The rehearsal and dinner on Friday. The wedding on Saturday. Elena will be here by then and...”
She reached up and placed a finger over his lips, her eyes fluttering at the soft warmth of his skin. “Then we have until Friday. And it’s only Sunday.”
“Five days.” His lips puckered as he kissed her finger softly. “I promised I wouldn’t kiss you before. But I can’t promise that now.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“So we’ll...see each other? For the next few days and then...?”
“Say farewell,” she said, refusing to let her eyes brighten with tears. “I heard this in a movie once: I’d rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special. That’s how I feel about you. About us.”
“Ah, Bella. Cara, bellisima Bella. Me too,” he said, bending his head so that his lips found hers.
His hand cupped her jaw, a gentle pressure that kept her lips exactly where he wanted them. She felt the gentle swipe of his tongue alone the seam of their lips, and she parted them, welcoming him into her mouth. As he slid his tongue against hers, a warmth, a heat, pooled in her stomach, then lower, making her shift against him, arching her back so that her breasts pressed against his chest. He groaned softly, holding her tighter, his tongue swirling around hers as his lips changed angles so that they fit more perfectly together. She threaded her hands into his hair, reveling in the thick softness against her fingers as she memorized the taste and texture of him.
And for Bella, who’d known very little love in her life, this felt like love.
It wasn’t, of course.
It would be impossible to fall in love with someone so quickly—even a handsome prince who seemed determined to treat her like his princess for this one fleeting week.
But it felt like love, and Bella didn’t fight that feeling.
“Tomorrow, Bella,” he said urgently, his breath kissing her skin as his lips skimmed the column of her throat. “When can I see you tomorrow?”
Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, but now she loosened them, trying to think a clear thought. “Tomorrow is...”
“Monday,” he said, his throat rumbling with a low, sexy chuckle.
“Monday. Right.” She leaned back, looking up into his eyes. “The salon is closed, but it is a deep-cleaning day, and I’m expected to be there.”
“Could you fake sick?”
She shook her head. “No. That wouldn’t get me out of working.”
His expression darkened. “You’re not allowed to be sick?”
She shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“What about Tina? I could send her up to steal you again.”
“Would she do it?”
“She’s my twin sister. She’d do anything for me.”
Bella grinned at him, nodding her head in relief. “Madame won’t be able to say no. Valentina is very...persuasive.”
“What time shall I send her?”
“Around noon? I’ll help in the morning. It’ll make Madame more amenable.”
“And what do you want to do tomorrow, cara Bella?” he asked, nuzzling her nose, brushing her lips lightly with his.
“I don’t care,” she answered honestly, reaching up to cup his bristly cheek, “as long as I’m with you.”
His eyes darkened, and his expression became serious. “How will I leave you on Friday?”
“Don’t think about it,” said Bella, pulling his face down to hers, her lips hungry for another kiss before the carriage arrived back at the hotel.
“But I’m greedy,” he murmured. “I won’t want to give you up.”
“Let’s not ask for eternity,” she said softly, “when we have now.”
Then she stopped any further conversation by pressing her lips against his, sinking into the warmth of his embrace as the summer stars smiled down on them.