“What about?” I try to keep my tone neutral, but it comes out wary.

“First of all, I’m not Italian.”

My eyes widen. “You’re not?”

He shrugs. “I’m not. I was neither born here, nor am I a citizen.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “So where are you from?”

“I am from the kingdom of Avanti.”

Of course, I’d learned about that tiny landlocked tax haven in my Geography lessons, but until now I had never actually met anyone from there. I look at him curiously. “So why pretend to be Italian?”

He holds up a hand. “For the record, I never actually said I was Italian. You assumed I was and I didn’t correct you.”

“Why?”

He shows the first sign of discomfort. “I’m getting there, Rosa. What I really want to tell you is that my full name is not Dante D’Angelo but Nils Dante de Beauvouli.”

The world stops spinning. There is only him and me suddenly. “De-Beauvouli?” I repeat in shock.

“Precisely.”

“As in …”

He nods. “King Isak Elliot De-Bouvouli is my father.”

“What?” My hands flail. I can’t believe what he’s saying. “You’re a prince?”

“I am.”

“But you can’t be …”

His mouth quirks. “Because I’m only a playboy?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Oh, my God, I’m sorry I said all those things.”

“Calling me a playboy? Thinking I can’t settle down.”

I cover my cheeks with my palms. “It explains all the things you know. The poetry and … but I work for fashion magazines. I should know about you. Why are the paparazzi not all over you?”

“Because I walked away from it all before I was eighteen. My father put a news blackout on me. No one talks about me. I’m just another playboy.”

My jaw drops. “You walked away from being a prince? Why would anyone do that?”

“Because I don’t believe that it should be anyone’s birthright to rule a country. One has to deserve the power to rule. It should be based on consensus and merit.”

“So who will take over after your father?”

“I have a younger half-brother, but our tradition states that succession must now skip to the next generation.”

I stare at him in wonder. “Does your brother have children?”

He shakes his head.

I gasp. “You mean our child will be the next King or Queen of your country.”

“Yes,” he says simply.

I fan my face with my hands. “Oh my God!”

“Rosa …”

“Yes?” I whisper.

He reaches into the side pocket of his jacket and pulls out a velvet box. He opens it and I nearly faint. Inside is the most beautiful rectangular blue stone I have ever seen.

“Dante.” I feel myself blushing. “I shouldn’t even be calling you that anymore, should I?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re Prince Nils!”

He throws his head back and laughs. “I’m the same caveman who ate you out last night.”

“Why don’t you say that louder. I’m sure they didn’t hear it in the kitchen,” I hiss.

“I’ll scream it from the rooftops if you want.”

I ignore his comment and lay my hands against my temple. All this is just too much for me to process. “But surely you can’t just marry a commoner?”

“I can marry anyone I want.”

“But Royals don’t marry commoners.”

“Marrying other royals helped to consolidate power in the past, and today it helps to maintain the illusion of a bloodline’s purity. I don’t subscribe to the notion that just bloodline alone makes someone special, so, Rosa Winchester, will you marry me?”

Suddenly, I’m so tense I can hardly breathe.

“For the sake of our baby,” he adds, “I know you’ve doubted my sincerity about wanting to be part of my child’s life, but I want to be a real father to him or her. It’s very important to me.” He stops and looks into my eyes. “I’ll be the first to admit I was not ready to settle down, but most of it was a pretence. I was lying to myself. Pretending my life was perfect. And from the outside it was. A hedonistic life, a non-stop party. From one country to another the goal was simply pleasure, but a part of me was never satisfied. In the end all those bodies, all those hot nights, all those fun parties become meaningless. I don’t miss any of it. Right now, there’s an important party on a yacht in Monte Carlo, but there is not even one cell in my body that wishes I was anywhere else, but here with you.”

“I …”

“We could make a great life together.”

“I’m sure we could, but—”

“There are no buts. Life is what we make it.”

“It’s just … it’s such a shock. I mean, I feel like pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. I thought it was too good to be true when I was offered the job at the magazine here, but this! This definitely can’t be real. You’re a prince and I’m carrying a royal baby inside me! It’s too unbelievable. It’s almost like a fairytale.”

He makes a face. “Trust me, it’s hardly a fairytale. Of course, we have our traditions, but for all the pomp and circumstance we have to go to the toilet like everybody else.”

“Go to the toilet,” I repeat stupidly.

He grins. “’Fraid so.”

I can’t help myself. I laugh almost hysterically. “It’s just that when a person thinks of a king and queen, it’s never imagining them sitting on a toilet.”

“You have something against toilets, do you?”

Suddenly, I start to laugh and can’t stop.

He joins in the laughter. “I’m going to have to convince you, Rosa, that we’re just human beings.” His eyes are suddenly serious. “I want you and my baby in my life.”

My heart pounds like a drum. Confused, I grab his glass of wine and take a big mouthful, then suddenly remember my baby, and look around me in a panic.

“Spit it back into the glass,” Dante advises calmly.

Doing as he suggests, I dab my lips with the napkin. To my horror, a waiter comes by and discreetly removes the glass. Heat rushes up my throat, but I clear it, and look up into Dante’s watching eyes.

“So what do you say?” he asks.

“What about my job?”

“We can live here. Nothing needs to change. The only thing we will be doing is giving our baby two parents who love it and place its interest above all else.”

When he puts it that way, what can I say? “Let me think for a minute, will you please?”

His lips stretch. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you. I need to think this through.” My mind whirls. Dante and I get along extremely well and enjoy each other’s company, in fact, I can’t think of anybody else I would rather spend time with, and of course, the sex is amazing. But we don’t love each other so it will be a sort of sham marriage. On the other hand, the baby deserves to have both a mother and a father. Also it wouldn’t be fair to deprive the child of its rightful standing. My child is going to be the King of a kingdom one day. I’m going to be queen mother!

Whoa!

Never in all my life, even as a little girl, have I ever pretended to be a princess or a queen. I always wanted to be the kickass heroine who saves the day with clever thinking and fast action. What do I know about being royalty? Nothing.

“Your minute is up,” Dante says.

I look at him. His eyes are laughing and he is so beautiful I want to do him right there. As if a switch gets turned inside my head, I come to a sudden decision. “All right. I accept.”

His eyebrows fly up and his joy is genuine. “That’s wonderful. You won’t regret it, bella. You will see for yourself that we are just ordinary people who sit around watching TV and drinking beer.”

“Except your mum and dad wear crowns.”

His eyes twinkle. “Almost never. And you want to know something else?”

“What’s that?”

“My crown is stuck away in a dark closet somewhere in the palace and surrounded by moth balls.”

“Moth balls!”

“I’m kidding, Rosa. I have never worn a crown, and never will.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Speaking of meeting my family …” He leans forward and kisses me lightly on the lips. “I’ve told my father and stepmother about you.”

I stare at him in shock. “You’ve already told them about me?”

Unfazed he beams back at me. “Right after you moved to Rome.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them I’d met the woman I wanted to marry.”

“Did you tell them about the baby?”

“Of course. They want to meet you.”

“They want to meet me?” I echo blankly.

“Yes. There’s a ball this weekend and the king would love to have you attend.”

“A ball? This weekend?” I’m so flustered I can barely think. “I … er … I have nothing suitable to wear. You know, nothing has arrived yet from London. And … even if it had … I hardly think I have anything that is suitable for a royal ball.”

I stop babbling when Dante’s large, tanned hand covers mine. “You worry too much, bella.”

“Maybe we can meet him another time.”

“No. There is no point putting it off. We will go this weekend.”

“Why is it important that your father meet me this weekend?”

“He would like to introduce you.”

“Introduce me?” I repeat.

“As my future wife?”

My eyes pop open. “You told them we were going to be married?”

“I didn’t plan on taking no for an answer.”

“Dante, everything’s moving too fast. I can’t keep up.”

“It’ll be all right. Believe me.” He reaches for my hand. “Let’s see how good a fit this is.” He takes my hand and places the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit.

I’m marrying a prince! I can’t believe it. I’m really marrying a prince. I’m living every girl’s dream!

As if on cue waiters arrive bearing food. They place the plates in front of us and fuss around us with pepper grinders and parmesan graters.

“Bon appétit,” Dante says when they are gone.

Automatically I pick up my fork and slip a piece of pasta into my mouth. I’m in such a state of shock I don’t taste anything.

“What do you think?” Dante asks.

“Pure heaven,” I lie.