Sunday afternoon came far too soon. Eva wasn’t prepared. The past twenty-four hours hadn’t been enough to calm her. In fact, she was angrier than ever before.

He was a prince, for crying out loud. Why did she have to go meet him? Couldn’t he have her purse dropped off at her doorstep? Why did she need to jump through hoops?

Something about it just didn’t add up. She figured he probably wanted to see her in person. That way, he could mock her for being gullible. Or, maybe he’d looked in her bag and discovered that she had a secret identity of her own. He’d known her new email, after all. There weren’t many ways to find it, which meant he’d probably been on her cell phone. She cursed herself for not using a password.

Honestly, it didn’t matter much whether he knew her secret or not. It paled in comparison to his own. Besides, she doubted anyone would be invasive enough to go through the entire contents of her purse, prince or not. He had some semblance of manners. If she’d been in his shoes, she would have opened his phone (if possible), found a way to contact him, and left the rest alone. He had no business going through her things.

Calm down, okay? He probably didn’t.

She was whizzing around her apartment, trying to find something halfway clean to wear. By the time laundry day came around for Eva, there was hardly anything clean left. She wasn’t looking to impress, but she didn’t want to give him any reason to be condescending.

She finally settled on a red blouse and blue jeans. In the bathroom, she fretted over her hair. It was getting too long. She’d used to have it styled once a month, but that had been back when she’d lived with her parents.

Now, she could barely afford to have it cut. The problem was made worse by the fact that her hair was wavy and blond. The split ends were obvious, and she didn’t have the necessary tools to tame her curls. She pulled it into the neatest braid she could and sighed.

She was exhausted. No amount of makeup could cover it, not that she could afford things like foundation and mascara anymore. Even the light in her green eyes seemed to be fading.

Something has to change.

But what?

There was a knock at the hallway door. Eva was impressed. She hadn’t expected Filipe’s driver to come up seven flights of stairs just to pick her up. Then again, how else was she supposed to know when he got there?

She gave her reflection one last glance in the mirror, decided she was satisfied, and crossed through her apartment. Her shoes and coat were waiting by the door.

“I’ll be right there!” Eva called.

Her black sneakers were far less classy than the heels she’d been wearing two nights ago, but Filipe would have to settle. She wasn’t the same woman he slept with—and she had every intention of making sure he knew it.

Eva opened the door. The chauffeur, a dapper young man with a rosy smile, greeted her. She thanked God that it wasn’t the same man from the previous morning. That would be embarrassing.

Right. Because nothing about this is embarrassing.

“Are you Eva Nightingale?”

Eva nodded.

“I am,” she affirmed. “Did Filipe send you?”

“He did,” the chauffeur said. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“I’m ready right now,” Eva said, slipping her coat around her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

The man stepped aside as she walked through the threshold and into the hallway. Eva shut the door behind her and took a deep breath. Then, they started down the steps.

As the car approached the Ramada, Eva’s heart began racing.

Calm down. You can do this.

She was meeting a prince. Sure, it was the same guy she’d hooked up with a couple of days ago. But he was a prince, and now she knew it. Everything was different.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you.

Either way, what he did wasn’t right. He was married. He didn’t need to sleep around in the first place, let alone lie about his identity.

They pulled up to the Ramada, and the chauffeur opened her door. She stepped outside, praying this would be a short visit. Now that she was here, she wanted nothing more than to be gone.

She walked through the revolving doors and into the lobby. She felt empty without her purse over her shoulder. It was a wonder she didn’t notice it missing the moment she left. She must have been too frazzled, being dismissed the way she was.

Eva promised herself she wouldn’t let him dismiss her like that again.

She scanned the lobby for Filipe. At first, she didn’t see him. It was a Sunday afternoon, between check-out and check-in time. The lobby was almost entirely empty. How could she miss him?

“Hey,” a voice said softly from behind her. “I thought you might not come.”

Eva spun around. Filipe was leaning against the check-in desk. He was just as handsome and dreamy as the night they met. Except, this time, he wasn’t just Filipe. This time, he was Prince Filipe di Benici.

She realized that part of her—a very strong part—hated him.

“Your Highness,” she said, doing a slight curtsy.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused.

“I suppose you practiced that,” he said.

“Actually,” Eva said. “I practiced a lot of things I wanted to say to you. But that? That came naturally.”

Filipe shook his head and looked down at the floor.

“Well,” he said, biting his lip and handing her purse over. “I guess you’ll be needing this for your next shift at Gustavo’s.”

Eva felt her face turn red.

He went through my things?

She snatched her bag from his outstretched hand. Reaching inside to ensure her belongings were intact, she felt her phone, wallet, keys, and the plastic bag with her uniform inside. It was all there.

Eva turned to leave. She had every reason to walk out the door. But something stopped her. Who was he to pass judgement? She turned back, glaring at Filipe.

“I might work at a coffee shop,” she said a bit louder than she planned. “But you’re a prince. And you’re married. Only a complete asshole cheats on his wife. You’re not better than me. And you don’t get to act like it just because you went through my things.”

She had enough time to catch the surprised look on his face before turning around. This time, she really intended to leave. But, before she had a chance to step forward, a hand grabbed her wrist. It wasn’t harsh or angry. It was light. If hands could talk, this one was apologizing.

“Please turn around,” Filipe murmured. “I need you to hear me out.”

She sighed and turned.

“I don’t understand why,” she said. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything. It’s not like any of this matters.”

“But it does matter,” Filipe said. “Because you need to understand.”

His green eyes were piercing hers. How could she say no?

“I don’t know,” Eva said. “I might be a lowly barista, but I’m not accustomed to having conversations with men who cheat on their wives and go through bags that don’t belong to them.”

Filipe rolled his eyes.

“I had to go through your bag,” he said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to return it. And I didn’t do anything more than look at your phone. Last time I checked, that was socially acceptable in emergency situations.”

“Then how did you know about my job?”

“How else? You had your next shift written on your cell phone calendar. I didn’t go snooping through your bag. I didn’t even know for sure that your uniform was inside. I just guessed. I emailed you and set the bag aside. I swear.”

Eva looked in her purse. It didn’t look overly disturbed. Still...

“Why should I trust you?” Eva asked. “You cheated on your wife. You lied to me about who you were. Why do you even care what I think?”

“Because I care about you,” Filipe said sincerely. “And I didn’t cheat on my wife. So, unless you have somewhere to be, I’d really appreciate you hearing what I have to say.”

Eva hesitated. Was this man worth five more minutes of her time? Probably not. But he was a prince, and she was very curious.

“Fine,” she said. “But we’re talking down here. I’m not going back upstairs with you.”

“That’s fine,” Filipe said, ushering her toward a pair of chairs in the corner. “We can sit right here. I don’t have anything to hide from you.”

“Except the fact that you’re a married prince.”

Filipe shot her a look.

“I don’t have anything else to hide from you,” he said coolly.

“Sorry,” she said. “You set yourself up for that one.”

He smiled. She couldn’t help but return it briefly.

“All right,” she said as she sat down. “Let’s hear it.”

Filipe sat down next to her. He took her hand. Eva debated over pulling it back, but decided to let him keep it.

“I don’t normally bring girls home from bars,” he said. “Even places like Oasis. I was there for a meeting with an associate. I know that sounds vague, but it isn’t a lie.”

“Okay,” Eva said. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never slept with anyone other than your wife before?”

Filipe shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I’m getting to that.”

“But you just said you don’t normally bring girls home from bars.”

“That’s doesn’t mean never. Will you please just listen to what I have to say?”

Eva took her hand back.

“I don’t understand how that’s supposed to make me feel better,” Eva said. “It doesn’t make you look better, either. What are you saying? That I was special enough for you to cheat with? Me and a handful of other lucky girls?”

Filipe ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“You’re not listening,” he said. “I need you to stop hating me for a minute and give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Why should I?”

“I’m not the only person who lied that night,” he said, almost angrily. “You think I wasn’t hurt when I found out you lied to me? You think it felt good, knowing that I’d been used?”

“I didn’t use you.”

“Oh, yes you did,” he said. “I was your escape, right? Proof that you can make it with a classy guy. A night with someone who doesn’t know who you are. A chance to be someone else. Am I anywhere close?”

Eva’s will to fight him disappeared. She was suddenly ashamed.

“I never cared about your job,” Filipe said. “You could have told me the truth. The same thing would have happened. But you wouldn’t have wanted me, then. You were carrying out your little fantasy. That’s all I was to you.”

“How did this conversation get turned on me?” Eva asked.

“Because you’re not being fair,” he said. “You had your own reasons to lie to me. You want me to respect them. But you won’t respect mine.”

“I’m not a freaking prince,” she said. “And I’m not married. The only lie I told was about my job.”

“And your roommate,” Filipe said. “And where you live. Did you lie about everything else too? Even the personal things?”

She shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Everything I said about my parents and my frustrations were true. The stories from my past were true, too. I wasn’t honest about my occupation or my roommate or where I live. And no, I didn’t graduate from Columbia. I dropped out. But that’s it. That’s all of it.”

“I didn’t lie about anything,” Filipe said. “Except my status as a businessman. And honestly, Eva, if you’d asked me about marriage or my job, I would have told you the truth. My hotel room doesn’t exactly scream business executive. It’s not even where I normally stay. I have a place in the city. I don’t like to use it. Women ask too many questions when they see it.”

“Okay?”

“I wasn’t trying to say that you belong in some special club of women who I’ve deemed worthy enough to sleep with,” Filipe said. “That would be awful. I was trying to say that you caught me off guard. I never planned on bringing you home. I never pushed myself to like you. I just did. And I wanted, more than anything, to be myself around you.”

Eva felt like her heart was being stabbed. For once, a man actually thought she was special. And he was married.

“Stop,” she said. “I don’t want to hear about that, okay?”

“I’m just being honest,” Filipe replied. “I want you to know that this meant something to me.”

“But we can’t be together,” Eva protested. “And it meant something to me too. You’re hurting me. Don’t you get that?”

Understanding dawned on Filipe’s face.

“Oh,” he said. “Of course. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you should just be happy with the woman you married,” Eva pointed out. “Then things wouldn’t be so complicated. Where is she, by the way? Obviously not in New York.”

Filipe sighed.

“I’m about to tell you something,” he said. “And you can’t ever share it. Not online. Not with anybody. I need you to promise me that. This is bigger than us.”

“Okay,” Eva said. “I promise.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“My relationship with Luiza isn’t real,” he said. “It was an arranged marriage—the latest in a long-standing tradition of uniting noble houses. It’s political. There’s nothing between us, and there never has been.”

Eva stared.

“Then, why did you do it?”

“Because my mother is dying,” Filipe said. “She has cancer. She wanted to see our wedding more than anything in the world. I couldn’t take that away from her.”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” she said genuinely. “But I still don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re married to a beautiful, powerful woman, and you’d rather sleep with a barista from Brooklyn?”

Filipe attempted to smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

“This is a difficult topic for me,” he said. “My parents don’t know the truth. My closest friends don’t even know.”

“Then don’t tell me anything else,” Eva said. “It’s fine. Like I said, you don’t owe me anything.”

“But I do,” he said. “Luiza lives in Rome. We’ve never even slept together. She’s an old-fashioned elitist, only interested in consolidating her family’s power and status. Sharing her life is beneath her. I never wanted to marry her, but I have expectations to meet. I know you understand how that feels.”

“You said that you feel like you can’t be your own person,” Eva said. “This is what you meant?”

Filipe nodded.

“I tried to love her,” he said. “But I couldn’t. We’ve been living this lie ever since.”