The very next morning, Eva woke to the sound of a knock on her door.

“Who is it?”

She was groggy and tired. She’d spend most of the night tossing and turning on the couch, thinking about Filipe and what being pregnant would be like. She was nervous. She also couldn’t sleep on her mattress anymore. Stuffing was spilling out of one side.

Maybe I’ll buy a new one.

It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it.

There was another knock at the door.

“All right, I’m coming,” Eva called. “Just a minute.”

She pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Her hair was a raggedy mess. She would need to shower before tonight.

Crossing to the door, Eva was suddenly struck with the fear that Filipe would be behind it.

He wouldn’t come here, would he?

She hoped not. If he saw her like this, he might change his mind about having a baby with her. She knew she would, if she were in his shoes.

But it wasn’t Filipe behind the door. It was a deliveryman with a vase full of lilies. They were her favorite.

“Delivery for Miss Eva Nightingale,” he said, holding out the bouquet. As she took it, an envelope fell to the floor.

“What was that?” Eva asked.

“The sender wanted me to deliver a note with the flowers,” he said. “Have a nice day.”

He turned and walked down the stairs.

Eva grabbed the note from the floor and carried the flowers into the kitchen. She placed them on the counter. Her hands began to shake. After how Filipe had treated her the day before, why would he send her flowers? Then again, maybe they weren’t from Filipe.

Who else would they be from?

She opened the note to find the lilies were, in fact, from the prince.

Good morning, it read. Please meet me at my penthouse apartment this evening. I’ll send a car to pick you up around seven o’clock.

It was signed Prince Filipe di Benici.

“How did he know lilies are my favorite?” Eva asked her empty apartment.

She already knew the answer. He probably liked them himself.

At seven o’clock sharp, there was another knock at her door. Eva had just finished curling her hair with an iron she’d purchased from the store earlier that day. She’d also had a queen-sized bed delivered, cleaned her entire apartment from top to bottom, and bought and applied a modest amount of makeup.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt glamorous. She wore a red dress she’d found at a boutique she’d always wished she could shop in, and knee-high boots she’d found in SoHo. It was the best day she’d ever had in Manhattan. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t enjoyed the city more often.

“I’ll be right there!” Eva called in the general direction of the front door. She still needed to find a jacket and a pair of earrings to wear. Luckily, her favorite black leather jacket was hanging on the back of the couch, and she quickly grabbed it. One set of diamond stud earrings (a high school graduation gift from her parents) later, she was heading toward the door, her purse slung over her shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” she said as she opened the door. “It’s been a hectic day.”

It wasn’t the same driver she’d had the day before. It was, in fact, the driver she’d ignored the morning after she and Filipe met. If he recognized her, he didn’t let on. Eva wondered if Filipe told his drivers about intimate affairs like having secret babies with strange women.

She guessed he probably didn’t.

“That’s all right,” the man said. “Are you ready to go?”

“I am,” Eva said. “And, for future reference, you guys don’t have to walk all the way up here. You can just call me and I’ll come down.”

“Noted,” the man said with a smile.

Eva flicked off the living room light and stepped into the hallway. Soon, she was being sped across the city again, this time in the direction of a penthouse apartment. Her life had never been so exciting before.

“Do you know anything about this apartment?” Eva asked as they drove along. “Should I be more nervous than I already am?”

“It’s impressive,” the driver said. “I’ve never seen anything like it myself, and I’ve been chauffeuring celebrities for twenty years.”

“That doesn’t calm my nerves at all,” Eva said.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” the driver replied with a grin.

They pulled up to a true Manhattan skyscraper—at least forty stories high, if not more.

“Oh God,” Eva breathed. “I’m going all the way up there?”

“You sure are.”

“You have to come with me.”

The driver laughed.

“If you want.”

He opened her door. She stepped out into the chilly evening air, goosebumps forming on her lower arms. She was glad she’d thought to wear a jacket.

“Right this way,” the driver said, leading her through a set of revolving doors.

The apartment lobby was every bit as impressive and detailed as the Ramada. They crossed it to a set of elevators, one of which opened almost immediately.

Eva was surprised when Filipe stepped out.

“I’ll take her from here,” he told the driver, casually slipping him a tip. “Thanks, Joseph.”

“Anytime,” he replied. “Have a good night, Eva.”

The driver turned and walked away, leaving Eva to stare in wonder at Filipe.

He was wearing another perfectly tailored designer suit (as per usual), but there was something different this time. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was the way he smiled. Every time she’d seen him before, something was reserved. Tonight, nothing was held back. He smiled at her and he meant it. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that he cared for her.

No, Eva. He cares for the baby you’re about to conceive.

She shoved the thought to the back of her mind. Maybe so, but she was going to enjoy tonight. Even if it was just sex.

“You look beautiful,” Filipe said. Eva blushed.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Let’s take this upstairs,” he said, offering his hand. She took it.

They stepped into the elevator. As the doors shut behind them, Filipe took out a key and unlocked a small door on the panel of buttons. When it swung open, she saw the penthouse button. He pushed it, and they began to move.

“I should probably warn you,” Eva said. “I’m so nervous I can barely breathe.”

“What are you nervous about?” Filipe asked, turning to her. “Can I help?”

“I’m not sure if I’m more nervous about seeing a penthouse apartment, having sex in the penthouse apartment, or being forty stories off the ground.”

“You don’t like heights?”

“Let’s just say the fifteenth story at the Ramada was enough for me.”

The elevator came to a stop.

“Well,” Filipe said. “I’ll be here with you; you have nothing to be afraid of.”

The doors opened. Filipe stepped over the threshold, still holding Eva’s hand. She crossed through with him and gasped.

It was the most impressive place she’d ever been in. The suite included a living space, dining area, kitchen, and office—all without walls to separate them. The right side of the room veered into a long hallway, but Eva couldn’t see beyond that.

What she could see, however, was gorgeous. The penthouse was tastefully decorated with earth tones and bright accents. A large piano stood in one corner. Eva’s mother had taught her to play when she was young, though she hadn’t touched one in years.

There was so much to see that her eyes didn’t know where to begin.

“Did you decorate?” Eva asked. “Or did you hire someone?”

“Do you want the honest answer?”

Eva giggled.

“Yes,” she said.

“I hired the best interior design expert in the country,” Filipe said. “But, I did put a lot of my own ideas in. I wanted it to have some sense of my personality.”

Eva smiled, her eyes continuing to scan the room.

“I know you probably want to get started,” she said. “I’ve just never seen a home like this before. You hear about penthouse suites, but you never actually know what to expect.”

“I’m not in a rush,” Filipe said. “I haven’t started dinner yet.”

“What?” Eva asked, turning to him. Her concentration on the suite was broken. “You’re making dinner?”

“Did you already eat?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My stomach was in knots. How could I?”

“Will you be able to eat now?”

“I think so,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you to cook.”

“Did you think I was just going to drag you into the bedroom?” Filipe asked, a smirk on his face. “Are we animals?”

“Honestly, that’s pretty much what I anticipated happening.”

“Then I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised by the evening I have planned,” he said. “Follow me.”

They walked into the kitchen, Eva’s heart racing. What did this mean? Was he trying to be nice because he felt bad about yesterday? Or was there actually something between them?

Will you stop?

Filipe motioned for her to sit on a barstool at the counter. She happily obliged. He went to the fridge, pulling out eggs, milk, and bacon.

“Ever had homemade pasta?”

“No, but I love Italian food,” Eva said.

“I had a feeling.”

He turned to the pantry, grabbing flour, eggs, and a stainless steel machine.

“Thank you for the beautiful flowers, by the way,” Eva said. “How did you know lilies were my favorite?”

“I didn’t,” Filipe said with a genuine look of surprise. “I like lilies myself.”

“So, you bought them for me.”

“That seems to be the pattern here.”

Eva smiled.

“I wasn’t expecting this to be so nice,” she said. “I thought it might be awkward.”

“I remember what you said about hookups,” Filipe said, cracking eggs into the well of flour he’d made in a bowl. “I don’t want you to feel that way tonight. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?”

“What can I say? I am a romantic at heart.”

Eva shook her head.

“You don’t make any sense,” she said.

“What do you mean?” He was pushing the dough he’d made through the machine now, and it came out in long, thin angel-hair noodles.

“First, you tell me I’m special. Then, you tell me you’re married to a horrible woman and you won’t get a divorce. Next, you ask me to have your baby. And finally, you tell me to mind my own business. You’re a very difficult man to read.”

“Maybe I like it that way,” he said.

“Maybe you enjoy torturing women,” she countered.

Filipe turned to the refrigerator and pulled out cream, white wine, and a lobster.

“That’s not true,” he said. “I was raised better than that.”

“I wanted to ask you about that,” Eva said.

“Hold on,” Filipe interrupted. “Are you okay with lobster?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had it, but I trust your judgement, chef.”

“I thought it would be fitting for our evening, since is an aphrodisiac, you know,” he said with a wink.

He continued to work, putting the pasta and lobster in two copper pots of boiling water. Eva couldn’t help but smile. Even if nothing else ever happened between them again, this was a memory she could fall in love with.

“Anyway,” Eva said. “I wanted to ask you about how you were raised. Not just for the baby, but because I’m curious. What was your childhood like?”

Filipe turned to look at her.

“That’s a good question,” he hedged. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“You should probably start with your sauce,” Eva said. “Or it won’t be done in time.”

“Oh!” Filipe said, turning back to the stove. “You’re right.”

Eva laughed. She hadn’t felt this good since…well, she didn’t know when.

After he’d whisked the cream and wine together, added some fresh herbs and truffle oil, and brought the sauce to a simmer, Filipe began to answer her question.

“I guess it was a mostly normal childhood,” he said. “I remember not realizing there was anything different about me until I was six or seven. I went to school like other kids. I went home to a normal house. At least, it was normal for the families I knew. It’s not like we live in a castle and wear crowns, you know? For the most part, we live pretty normal lives.”

“But something had to be different. You know, other than the privilege of having a nice house.”

“It was,” Filipe replied. “I started to really notice things when I was a teenager. There were more people trying to take my picture. I couldn’t have a girlfriend because the whole world wanted to know about it. My parents told me I was going to marry Luiza one day. My friends all started their careers and moved on with their lives. I was stuck at home. I could travel, sure. But my life was there. I couldn’t pick up and leave like other people could.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It was,” he said, straining the pasta over the large, granite sink. “I wanted to be normal for a long time. I was sixteen or seventeen before I accepted my heritage. I started learning about my family and my ancestors. I was okay with being a prince then, mostly because I’d never thought to be anything else. I just rebelled against it.”

“I can relate,” Eva said. “Except, I rebelled right out the door.”

“You did,” Filipe said. “But being a lawyer doesn’t suit you, Eva. You’re not meant for something like that.”

“What am I meant for, then?”

“You’re meant to help people,” he said confidently as he pulled the meat out of the cooked lobster and stirred it into the sauce. “I feel very strongly about that. Lawyers can do that, sure. But your calling is people. The helpless and the homeless. You might not know it yet, but you’ll find it.”

“How can you possibly know that about me?”

“Because you remind me so much of myself,” Filipe said. “And, if I could do anything in the world, that’s what I would do.”

He twirled the pasta onto plates and spooned the sauce over, then headed toward the dining room. Eva followed.

“Does being a prince suit you?”

Filipe set the plates down across from one another and shook his head.

“I’m not a very good prince, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “Look at what I’m doing right now, for example. I’m rebelling against my wife. I’m rebelling against my responsibilities. I do the bare minimum. But this isn’t the life I wanted. I accepted it because I couldn’t hurt my parents that way. I couldn’t hurt my mother that way. I’m happier than I would be if I’d run away from it all.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I am.”

“So, what’s your life like now?” Eva asked. “What kind of responsibilities do you have?”

“Another good question,” Filipe replied. “I’ll answer when you start eating.”

Eva did. The pasta was delicious, and her first experience of lobster was one of the best things she’d ever eaten.

Great. He’s a romantic, and he can cook.

She was never going to get over him. Not without losing her mind. Maybe deciding to sleep with him had been a mistake.

But there was no going back now. The connection was undeniable.

“I’m eating,” she said between bites. “Go on.”

“My life is mediocre now,” he said. “I help my parents organize nonprofits and donate to charities. I show up at important events, usually with Luiza, as a representative for my state. I hold babies and take pictures. It’s all very materialistic. I’m just there for show—almost like a puppet. But I’m a very busy puppet. Does that make sense?”

“For the most part,” Eva affirmed. “Do you run your own nonprofit?”

“I do,” Filipe said. “That’s why I find time to come to New York. This is where my nonprofit is based. But my family, and Luiza, don’t find my nonprofit as important as obligations at home.”

“What does your nonprofit do?”

“The same things I wish I could do myself,” he said. “We provide affordable counseling for individuals and couples. We help get the homeless off the street. We operate three soup kitchens in the city. It’s my way of giving back, even though I have to let other people run it.”

“I’m sorry,” Eva said.

“It’s okay,” Filipe replied. “That’s just my life.”

Eva nodded and stared at the table.

“I should be honest with you about something,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“I’m here because I lost my job,” she admitted. “My manager fired me.”

“Why?”

“I mean, I wasn’t a very good barista,” Eva said. “My heart wasn’t in it. But that’s not why he fired me. He fired me because I didn’t want to date him.”

“He can’t do that. You can sue.”

“I’m aware,” she said. “But upper management already wanted me gone, and he can prove it. He’ll claim he was protecting me, which isn’t nearly as punishable. It was just hard, you know? I thought he was my friend. I thought he understood. And then he turned into a completely different person.”

“Kind of like I did?” Filipe asked.

Eva looked at the floor.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Kind of like you did yesterday.”

Filipe stood up and walked around the table to her.

“Eva,” he said softly, bending down and staring into her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. I’m just scared.”

“Of what?” Eva asked.

The tension between them was building. He stared into her eyes, but Eva was staring at his lips. She wanted him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t.”

He laced his fingers through her hair and pulled her forward. Their kiss was every bit as passionate as the night they’d met. He picked her up and carried her down the long hallway. At the end, there was a bedroom. She didn’t care what it looked like. She only cared about him.

When the lovemaking was over, Eva curled into Filipe’s arms. She hadn’t expected to spend the night, but he’d insisted.

As she drifted toward sleep, she wondered—was this an act to make her feel better about giving up a baby? Or did she mean something to Prince Filipe di Benici?

Then, sleep came, and the wondering stopped.