I wake up with one thought on my mind: today is my chance, and I intend to make it count.

I roll over and look at Elle. She’s still sleeping, and a wisp of her hair has fallen across her lips. It rises and falls with the slow, steady flow of her breath.

God, she’s beautiful. And so real. I’m not sure I realized it until I saw her again yesterday, but there’s something unspeakably genuine about her. She doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what she is. Even when she tries to hide her emotions, even when she hints at having secrets I can’t understand, I know every time I look into her eyes I’m seeing the truth. She’s afraid—she’s been hurt and betrayed—but still I feel as if I can see the woman beneath the pain. The one who is generous and passionate and fully alive.

I reach over and gently brush away that stray bit of hair. Though I hardly touch her, she still stirs. A moment later, her eyes flutter open.

“Good morning,” I murmur.

A lazy smile spreads across her lips, sending a rush of warmth through me.

“Good morning,” she whispers back.

I lean down and brush my lips against hers. “Are you ready for the continuation of our date?”

She gives a small laugh and tugs the sheets up over her breasts—though why she should be embarrassed now is beyond me.

“What time is it?” she asks.

I lean over the side of the bed and find my trousers, fishing my mobile phone out of the pocket. “It’s nearly noon.”

“Noon?!” she says, sitting straight up. “I had no idea it was so late.”

“We both needed some sleep,” I say, sliding my arm around her and pulling her toward me. “We had quite a bit of exercise last night.”

A fresh blush blooms across her cheeks. “Still. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.” She pulls out of my arms and slides to the edge of the bed. She continues to hold the sheet up around her as she grabs her clothes from the floor.

“There’s nothing wrong with indulging in a little extra sleep,” I say. “Besides, I want you well rested. I have quite the day planned for us.”

She looks over her shoulder at me, a tentative smile playing across her lips. “What sort of things do you have planned?”

“If I told you, dear Elle, that would ruin the surprise.” I rise from the bed—not caring that I haven’t a stitch on—and casually gather my clothes. “But prepare to be swept off your feet.”

One of her eyebrows goes up. “Now I’m getting nervous.”

“No need to be. You’re about to get the full royal date experience.”

She rolls her eyes, but her grin stretches even wider. “Okay, now you’re just being cheesy on purpose.”

“Cheesy? Me? Never.” I raise my mobile. “I’m going to call Matthias and ask him to bring the car around in a few minutes.”

“At least give a girl time to get dressed,” Elle says, still clutching the sheet to her as she hurries over to her closet.

“Clothing is optional,” I say.

She laughs and throws something at me. A rolled up pair of socks.

“I’m assuming you’ll at least give me time to brush my teeth?” she says. “And do something with my hair?”

“Don’t bother with the hair,” I say. “I plan on messing it up again shortly.”

She throws another ball of socks at me before grabbing her things and scurrying into the bathroom. The sheet parts as she makes her escape, flashing me a delightful glimpse of her round bottom, and I grin to myself as she closes the bathroom door behind her.

I give Matthias a call as I pull on my clothes. After I’ve made our arrangements, I wander over to the small dresser across from the bed. There are a number of things scattered across the surface, but I’m looking for one thing and one thing only.

I pause, listening. I can still hear the sink running in the bathroom, but I probably don’t have very long.

Where would she keep it? I look through the odds and ends on her dresser, then glance around the room. There isn’t a desk here, so I’m not sure where she’d stash her important papers and such. I’m used to other people handling such things.

Maybe her delicates drawer? Some women hide important things in there. Normally I wouldn’t sift through a woman’s private things—I’m above such a crass, perverted action—but this is important.

The water is still running. This is my only chance.

Quickly, I pull open the top drawer. Inside, I see several rows of carefully rolled delicates.

Don’t look at them, Leo. As much as you want to, don’t look.

Hell, who am I kidding? I feel a grin spread over my face as my eyes drift over her pretty little undergarments. Hopefully, I’ll get to see her in some of these soon.

But as much as I’d like to let my gaze linger, I’m looking for something important. I reach into the back of the drawer, pushing the lacy bits of fabric aside. There—a small bundle of papers.

I carefully pull them out.

Birth certificate, copies of insurance documents, her medical licensing information, papers regarding her house in California…and there. Her passport.

The water has stopped running. I stuff the rest of the papers back into the drawer and slip the passport into my pocket.

Better not to break any international laws, not if it can be avoided.

I’ve closed the drawer and spun back around by the time Elle emerges from the bathroom. She’s still tying her hair back in a ponytail when she looks over at me and smiles.

Pleasure flutters in my chest. She doesn’t even have to touch me. Just a look and I feel myself coming apart.

“Matthias should be here any moment,” I tell her. “Just let me brush my teeth and we’ll be on our way.”

My fingers slide over my pocket as I pass her, but her passport is safely tucked away. No reason to take any chances.

A few minutes later, as promised, Matthias appears outside with the car. I take Elle’s hand and help her inside.

“Are you ready?” I ask her as I slide in beside her.

“For the full royal date experience? I’m not sure.” She turns and glances out the window as the car begins to move. “When are you going to tell me where we’re going? There isn’t much to do around here, as you discovered last night.”

“I’m glad you agree,” I say. “Which is why I hope you’ll consent to taking the jet.”

Her head jerks around. “I told you, I have an interview on Tuesday—”

“Which is why I thought New York might be a nice option. Or Miami. Or perhaps Los Angeles—there’s a new restaurant there I’ve been dying to try.”

She looks somewhere between annoyed and impressed. She shakes her head, turning to look back out the window. “I should have known you’d pull something like this.”

“Well, you can hardly have the full royal date experience here,” I say, gesturing at the passing scenery. “There isn’t a five-star restaurant within a hundred miles of here.”

She looks like she wants to roll her eyes at me again—and a little like she’s holding back a smile.

“Fine,” she says. “Take me wherever you like. But I have to be in Oklahoma by Tuesday.”

“Understood.” I realize my fingers have subconsciously moved to my pocket, and I quickly pull them away.

Elle still looks a little wary as we pull up to the small private airport where my plane is waiting, but there’s a gleam in her eyes as I help her out of the car.

This has to be the first time I’ve ever been nervous on a date. Even my attempt at cooking her a meal in her home didn’t make me this anxious—perhaps because I know, deep down, that this is my final chance. If I don’t convince Elle to trust me tonight, I never will. She’s already given me too many chances.

I glance over at her as I lead her across the runway to our transportation for the day. Her hand is in mine, and I’m pleased that, at this moment, she’s decided to trust me.

She pauses at the foot of the small staircase leading up to the cabin. There isn’t room for us to go up the stairs side by side, so I place her hand on the railing.

“Ladies first,” I tell her.

She looks over at me—for the briefest of moments I fear she’s going to tell me she’s changed her mind, that she wishes to go back to her dormitory—but then without a word, she starts to make her way up the stairs. I make every attempt to keep my eyes from her figure as she climbs the steps in front of me—I’m supposed to be a gentleman, after all—but I don’t manage very well.

When we reach the cabin, she stops just inside the door.

I’ll be the first to claim that the interior of my personal plane is quite impressive. My father gave me this plane when I turned eighteen, but I’ve had the interior redesigned twice in the years since as my tastes matured. It’s currently decorated in a contemporary style. One side of the cabin serves as a lounging area—complete with modern cushioned chairs and a sofa that slides out into the most comfortable of beds, all upholstered in soft, pale gray leather. The other side offers many conveniences—a kitchen and bar, a large closet, and even a desk for those times I’m feeling particularly responsible. The walls of the cabin are a shade lighter than the sofa and chairs, and the carpet beneath our feet is plush and ivory in hue. I designed the whole thing to be modern but also inviting and tranquil—the sort of place that encourages you to kick off your shoes and sink into comfort.

Elle steps forward, looking around her. Her face is impassible, so I stay at the door, waiting to see how she reacts.

She walks slowly down the length of the cabin, every so often reaching out to touch something—brushing her fingers along the marble countertop of the bar, running her hand across the back of one of the lounge chairs. She pauses at the desk, where I left a couple of books I’d been attempting to read on the flight over. I’ve always enjoyed reading—though I admit I much prefer making my own adventures in the world—but even books couldn’t distract me these past few months.

She stops again at the small table near the far end of the room, where Matthias—on my orders—has left two dozen crimson roses and a chilled bottle of the finest champagne.

Finally, I can’t take it any longer.

“What do you think?” I ask her.

She turns slowly back toward me. Her lips open and close, and her gaze floats around the room once more before coming to rest on me again.

“I’m sure you’ve impressed a lot of women with this plane,” she says finally.

I take a careful step forward. “I don’t want to talk about other women, Elle. What do you think?”

She glances over at the sofa. “I’ve never been on a plane like this before. It’s interesting.”

Interesting. In most circumstances, that would hardly be considered an insult, but I refuse to let her see how much the word stings me. Her face still hasn’t betrayed a hint of emotion, and I take another step forward.

“Out of curiosity,” she says, “how many women have you had on this plane?”

This is not a line of questioning I intend to let her pursue.

“There is only one woman I’m interested in right now, Elle,” I tell her, taking another step forward. “And I don’t intend to talk about anyone else today.”

“It’s not that simple,” she says. “You can’t just show me your fancy plane and give me roses and expect me to forget about who you are or that you’ve done this for a hundred women before me.”

Another step. “That’s not my expectation at all. I’m giving you these things simply because I want to. Because you deserve to be treated to a day of luxury. You spend your entire life giving to other people—your patients, your brother, your past lovers—and yet you refuse to let anyone give anything to you.”

She frowns. “It’s too much. I’m not the sort of girl who needs roses and champagne.”

“Nobody needs those things.” Another step. “And that’s exactly why I want you to have them. They’re purely frivolous. Things to have and enjoy entirely for the pleasure of having and enjoying them.”

I’ve reached the closet, and I stop, reaching out to the door. Perhaps it is too much to keep lavishing her with gifts—considering she’s resistant to accept something as simple as roses—but on the other hand, I refuse to let her act like she doesn’t deserve these things. I pull open the closet door.

Inside are several of my suits—and a full tuxedo, in case I should find one necessary—but there are also several dresses of various lengths and materials, everything from a simple black silk cocktail dress to a silver beaded gown. Each one is of the highest quality, custom made to fit her.

“Today,” I tell her, “I want you to experience what it’s like to be pampered. To allow yourself to accept extravagant gifts simply because they’re extravagant. To indulge yourself. And to allow someone else to indulge you.”

Her mouth has fallen open at the sight of the dresses, but when she sees me watching her, her lips snap shut again. For the briefest of moments, I see something in her eyes—but I cannot tell what it is.

She spins away from the closet—and me.

I slide the closet door closed again, worried. I knew I would have a difficult time convincing Elle to accept these things from me, but a part of me still hoped for a different response. I take a deep breath. This is not how these things normally go. But then again, Elle is so very different from anyone I’ve ever dated before. What do I do now?

Before I can respond to her, Matthias enters the cabin.

“Everything should be ready for our departure, Your Highness,” he says. “Have we decided where we’re headed this evening?”

“Not yet.” I turn back to Elle. “I wanted today to be all about you, Elle, so I took the liberty of making dinner reservations at several places across the country and thought I’d allow you to choose. So which will it be? Miami? Los Angeles? New York? We also have hor d’oeuvres here on the plane to tide us over until we arrive at our destination.”

She’s standing in front of the roses again, and she reaches out and brushes her fingers against one of the crimson petals.

“I…” She pauses. “I don’t want to go back to Los Angeles. There are too many reporters there.”

“Perfectly fair,” I tell her.

She doesn’t say anything else for a long moment, just continues to study the rose in front of her as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

Finally, she looks back at me and says, “I’ve never been to New York.”

I feel a smile spread across my lips. “New York it is, then.” I glance at Matthias. “Please tell Captain Smythe that we’re ready to be on our way.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Matthias says with a smile.

As he heads toward the pilot’s cabin, I turn back to Elle. “Matthias has his own private room at the front of the plane, so we’ll have plenty of privacy during the flight.” I close the distance between us again. “Elle, I know you don’t feel like you need such gifts, but—”

“But they’re part of the royal date experience, right?” she says, turning fully to face me again. “So if I’m to get the full experience, I should just roll with it?”

“I…well, that is certainly the spirit.”

She gives a small nod, as if making up her mind about something, and her lips curl up into a slow smile. “Okay, then. I guess I can live with that for one day.”

“I certainly hope you’ll do more than just live with them—”

“I’ll enjoy them,” she says. “I’ll indulge, as you so eloquently put it.”

In spite of my reservations, I find my mouth turning up into a smile that mirrors hers. “Good.” I reach around her and grab the bottle of champagne. “Shall we have a toast?”

Before she can respond, the plane begins to vibrate as the engines come to life.

“Maybe after we take off,” she says, still smiling.

“Of course.” I grab the champagne flutes as well. “I recommend sitting in one of the chairs and buckling yourself in. This is the finest in luxury aircraft, but you will always experience a little turbulence during takeoff in a plane of this size.”

She nods and walks over to one of the luxurious padded seats. I take the chair next to hers and stow the champagne safely in the compartment beside me.

A few minutes later, when we’re safely in the air, I pull them out again.

“Would you care for a glass?” I ask her as I pop the cork.

Something sparkles in her eyes. “Why not?”

I smile and pour us each a glass. Perhaps she’s only humoring me, but her response gives me hope. Maybe by the end of today, she’ll see it’s not so terrible a thing to accept a gift or to treat herself to something lavish. To me, she is worth every one of these luxuries—worth more than these luxuries, truth be told.

“Before we do anything else, I want to thank you, Elle,” I say.

She glances over at me in surprise. “Thank me?”

“For allowing me this chance.”

My gaze locks on hers, but even though her eyes darken slightly, she’s still guarded.

“We both needed some closure,” she says slowly. “It seemed like an opportunity to have one last hurrah so we can both move on with our lives.”

I frown. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear, Elle. I’m here because I have no desire to move on with my life.”

She breaks my gaze and gives a bitter laugh. “Stop with the bullshit, Leo. I know you’ve been with other women since me. The whole world knows. You can’t say things like that and expect me to believe them. Not anymore.”

“Elle, there’s been no one else—”

“Except that little blond actress everyone’s been drooling over, or that supermodel who just scored that big lingerie campaign—” She cuts off abruptly. Her cheeks redden slightly as she seems to realize that she’s accidentally admitted she’s been paying very close attention to my romantic life these past few months. “Look, Leo. You have every right to sleep with whoever you want, whenever you want. But please don’t come in here and lie to me about it. Give me that much.”

“I’ll admit there was a time, shortly after we parted, when I tried to occupy myself with other women,” I say. “But I never slept with any of them, Elle.”

“You didn’t sleep with any of them?” She doesn’t look the least bit convinced. “Even the lingerie model?”

“Not even the lingerie model,” I say. “Yes, I took them out. Yes, I kissed them. I even went home with a couple of them—but I couldn’t go through with it. Something always stopped me.” I think about that encounter with Lady Karina—the one encounter I was certain would cure me of my madness—then shake my head.

She freezes with her champagne glass at her lips, watching me closely. “What stopped you?”

“You know the answer to that, Elle,” I say, dropping my voice and leaning toward her. “You did. I couldn’t get you out of my head. Whenever I went on a date with another woman, I could only think about how I wanted to be out with you. Whenever I kissed another woman, I could only think about how I wanted to be kissing you. Whenever I went home with a woman—”

She throws up a hand. “Stop. I don’t need to hear this.”

I gently push her hand aside. “Actually, you do. There were nights when I fully intended to sleep with other women. Nights when I thought that drowning myself in pleasure was the only way to escape the thought of you. You don’t understand what you do to me, Elle. You haunted me, no matter what I did.” My hand is still on hers, and I curl my fingers around hers. “I had a woman stretched out in front of me on the floor, completely naked and begging me to take her, and even though I told myself to do it, told myself it was the only way to move on, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

She pulls her hand out of mine. “You seem to have a habit of abandoning naked women.”

“That’s not…” Bloody hell, this isn’t how I meant this to come out at all. “Elle, my point is that I looked at her—this beautiful woman who was begging me to do all manner of things to her—and I felt absolutely nothing. I don’t just mean emotionally—I mean physically, too. My brain was telling me I should want her, telling me she was exactly the sort of woman I should want, but I was paralyzed. If it had been you on that floor, you begging me—”

“I don’t want to hear this.” She puts her glass on the table and tugs at her seatbelt. The moment she’s free, she springs out of her chair. “If your goal for this day is to upset me or insult me, then you’re doing a pretty damn good job. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you just shut up about this.”

Fuck me, I’ve made it even worse. How did this happen? I’m saying all the wrong things, tripping over my tongue trying to explain to this woman how I feel about her. This isn’t like me at all.

And then it hits me.

“You’re jealous,” I hear myself say.

“I most definitely am not.”

“But you are.” I’m grinning again as I undo my seatbelt and rise. “Just like you were with those teenage girls back in Santa Monica—”

“I’m not jealous,” she insists, but the color of her cheeks says otherwise. “And you are enjoying this way too much.”

“I’m not enjoying this,” I say, even though we both know that’s a lie. “Elle.” I take her by the shoulders and look her in the eyes. “I assure you, you have nothing to be jealous of.”

She purses her lips, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you,” I say. “All other women pale in comparison to you.”

“There you go, being cheesy again,” she says, shaking her head. “Can I give you a tip, Leo?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t talk about having sex with other women when you’re on a date.”

“Once again, in my defense, there was no sex—”

“Then don’t talk about almost having sex. Or kissing. Or whatever it was that you did.” She gives me a wry look. “Really, Your Highness, I would have expected you to know better. You’re the self-proclaimed dating expert, after all.”

“I never called myself that.”

Something of the sparkle is back in her eyes. “But you did promise to sweep me off my feet. And if this was what you meant—”

“Point taken,” I say. “It was a classless move on my part. I apologize.”

Her eyes widen in feigned shock. “What’s this? Prince Leopold is apologizing? And admitting he’s not an expert in seduction—”

“I never said that, either.”

Her lips spread into a full grin. “Really, it’s a good thing I came along. Someone needs to call you on your bullshit more often. To help keep you honest, of course.”

To keep me honest.

If I were honest, I’d tell her I have her passport in my pocket. If I were honest, I never would have run away from her in the first place.

“How’s this for honesty?” I say, pulling her close. “I’m going to give you the best day of your life.”

* * *