The days leading up to Raoul’s special day were a flurry of activity around the palace. Rooms were prepared for guests, menus finalized and tweaked, silver polished, and linens pressed. A secret celebrity and his band were being flown in to perform after the cutting of the birthday cake, and extra security arrangements were put in place.

And this was a small party. “Nothing too fancy,” she remembered Diego saying. Rose had skirted around her share of drawing rooms and cocktail parties, but this was something utterly different.

The day before the big event, Stephani stopped by Rose’s room while the children were at dinner with their father. She breezed into the room with a garment bag in her hand and a determined set to her full mouth.

“Did we forget something for tomorrow?” Rose asked, shutting the door behind her. “Emilia’s dress came from the shop this afternoon.”

“Yes. Your dress.” She held out the bag and shook the hanger.

Rose took a step back. “Oh no. We already discussed this. I’m going to deliver the children to the party and pick them up after cake.”

“No, you’re going to be sitting with them. In this.” She shook the hanger again.

Rose sighed. “Stephani . . . this is too awkward.”

“Because of Diego?”

Rose frowned and pinned Stephani with a look. “What do you mean?”

Stephani took the bag and hung it on the closet doorknob, then came back, took Rose’s hand, and led her to the bed, where they sat side by side. “It’s no secret that you and Diego are . . . friends.”

The way she said “friends” let Rose know they hadn’t been fooling anyone.

“Which is exactly why I shouldn’t go.” She pulled her hand away and sighed. “It’s so inappropriate. And I wanted to believe in the . . . in the fairy tale. When we’re together, it’s so easy to think it’s just the two of us. But it’s not. The nanny cannot be the prince’s girlfriend. We all know it.”

“Why not?” Stephani scowled. “Don’t you deserve happiness?”

“It’s not about that.”

“Of course it is. And doesn’t Diego? The office staff talks too, you know. He’s in the office every day, on top of things. Smiling, happy. With a purpose. You didn’t know him before, but Rose, you’ve been so good for him.” Stephani halted, then met Rose’s eyes. “I’ve worked for Raoul for a long time. He underestimates his little brother. But you don’t. You’ve given Diego a sense of pride in himself.”

Heat crept up Rose’s cheeks. “Surely not.”

“People in the palace see more than many think. If you care about each other, why shouldn’t you be happy? Diego’s broken rules before, and for less-exalted reasons.”

Stephani patted her hand. “Rose. Everyone worried about the children after Ceci and Mariana died. This beautiful castle was like a tomb. And then you came. And they stopped crying. And people started smiling. And we heard laughter again, and Raoul stopped tiptoeing around, and Diego . . . he asked Raoul personally for you to come to the party with the family. You should have heard him speak of you, Rose, telling his father and brother how important you are. He admires you very much.”

Not just kissing and flirting, then. Butterflies took wing in her stomach as she remembered the long talks and glasses of wine they’d shared, the romantic night on the battlements, the touch of his lips on hers. And if what Stephani said was true, maybe he hadn’t told his father and brother they were seeing each other, but he spoke of her as if she was special.

“I don’t like to hope,” she murmured, staring at her hands. “It’s always led to disappointment. Besides, we both agreed the other night. This can’t be a . . . a thing. He’s not ready for us to be a real thing. I said I wasn’t comfortable keeping this from the king and from Raoul, but he wants to ‘ease’ our way forward. It’s impossible.”

Stephani was quiet a moment, and when Rose looked up, she saw a strange, wistful look in the other woman’s eyes. “But what do we have without hopes?” Stephani asked. “Without dreams? Not everyone has theirs offered to them. You have an obligation to grab at your chance of happiness, don’t you think?”

That sounded rather like the voice of experience, and Rose wondered what lay beneath Stephani’s perfectly polished and professional exterior.

“I still don’t want to be his secret. His . . . girl on the side.” It sounded awful but honestly, that was how she felt. “If he was really sure, he’d say something, don’t you think? I mean, not publicly, but to his family?”

Stephani hesitated. “Rose, this is the first event to be held at the palace since Ceci died. It’s in Raoul’s honor. Over the years, Diego’s frequently made himself the center of attention. If he’s staying quiet, perhaps it’s because he wants Raoul to have this one day without Diego . . . what’s the saying? . . . stealing his thunder? Maybe he wants you there but wants to find a better moment to talk to them.”

Rose hadn’t considered that this was Raoul’s night. Stephani’s words also echoed Diego’s from the other evening, saying he wanted to find the right time. She wondered if she was asking for too much; after all, Diego had navigated these waters before and probably knew what he was doing. “Are you going to be there?” she asked Stephani, hesitantly letting herself dream just a little bit.

“Of course. I’m planning it and have to make sure everything runs like clockwork.” She smiled. “So you’ll have a friend there. And another member of the working class, so to speak.”

Rose was so tempted. She looked over at the white bag hanging on the closet door. How long had it been since she’d really dressed up for a fancy dinner? Would she look back on this and kick herself for not going when she had the chance? Not everyone got an invitation to the Crown Prince of Marazur’s birthday party. “I’ll try the dress on. No guarantees, though.”

Stephani’s face brightened. “Go do it now. I want to see how it fits. I picked it out myself.”

Excitement prickled a bit as Rose got up from the bed and went to the closet. The bag was heavier than she expected, and she hurried to her bathroom to try it on. When she unzipped the bag, her breath caught. It was stunning—a twenties-style rose-pink dress with silver beading and fringe along the hem. She’d been expecting a little black dress. Something understated and elegant. Not this. It was too . . . obvious. But beautiful enough that she couldn’t resist slipping it off the hanger and onto her body.

But not before she saw the designer label. There was a distinct moment, as she did up the side zipper, that she had the feeling that she was Cinderella and Stephani was her fairy godmother.

She stepped out of the bathroom and Stephani’s eyes lit up. “Preciosa,” she whispered, putting a hand to her chest. “Oh, Rose. It’s perfect. Do you like it?”

Rose nodded. “I shouldn’t. It’s from Italy, isn’t it? It’s too much.”

“No, it’s not. Besides, I’m wearing a Versace. It’s expected. It’s not like you can go shop off the rack for the crown prince’s birthday party.”

“Oh, this feels like such a mistake.” She reached for the top of the zipper, starting to panic all over again.

But Stephani rushed forward. “It’s not. And besides, this is the first event since Ceci’s death for the children, too. They’ll be more comfortable with you there. Emilia especially. I think that sweet little girl will like having you by her side.” She smiled. “And Max is all boy. He’ll need watching or he’ll sneak too much cake.”

Rose might have refused, despite the dress, except Stephani brought up the one reason she would do anything: the children. It was her job to watch them, but even if it wasn’t, she’d want to make sure they not only got through the evening but enjoyed themselves, too. They shouldn’t suffer because of her confusing personal life. She would do it for them and deal with the rest like a grown-up.

Stephani sighed. “Please accept it and come. I have shoes for you, too, arriving tomorrow. Silver ones, to match the beading. Tell me you can be bribed by Manolos.”

Rose wasn’t able to refuse Stephani. Diego had been easier, but now, with the dress, and everything Stephani had said . . . surely Rose could enjoy getting dressed up, eating a delightful dinner, having a piece of whatever delectable cake Senora Ortiz was planning, and then calling it an evening when the children had to leave for bed.

Surely she could do her job and put her relationship with Diego to the side for a few hours.

“Would I be sitting close to Diego?”

Stephani shook her head. “No. Raoul will be in the middle, with his father on his right, and Diego beside him. The children will be on his left, and you at the end. Opposite sides of the table. There doesn’t have to be any tension. Just come. Raoul is so grateful for how you’ve been with the children. He wants you to be there, Rose.”

“He sent you? Not Diego?”

“Raoul did. I promise.”

That was the clincher, then. “You could have said so before,” Rose replied, lifting her chin. “Raoul is my boss.”

“But then I wouldn’t have known how you feel about Diego.” Stephani grinned. “Someone around here should have a shot at the fairy tale.”

Rose looked at Stephani closely. “What about you, then? No husband? No boyfriend?” She grinned. “No Prince Charming?”

Stephani smiled, but Rose saw sadness behind it. “Oh, not for me,” she replied. “I gave my heart away quite a while ago. It hasn’t come back to me yet.”

Rose wanted to ask her about it, but she needed to get the dress off and figure out what she was going to wear for jewelry and how she was going to do her hair. With a quick hug of gratitude, she sent Stephani on her way and then stood in front of the full-length mirror, her eyes and cheeks bright with anticipation.

She was going to the ball. There was no carriage, no glass slippers, no clock chiming at midnight, but this was her first—perhaps her only—chance at a royal party.

* * *

Diego looked in the mirror outside the drawing room and straightened his bowtie one last time. He was used to wearing a tux, but preferred to be more casual. Right now the tie was squeezing his neck and sitting a bit to one side. Frowning, he tried adjusting it again.

“Here, let me fix that. You’re going to mash it to bits.”

Stephani stepped up to him and reached for the silk edges of the tie. “You’re late. Your father and brother are already inside at the cocktail hour.”

“Sorry. I got tied up on the phone.”

“On your brother’s birthday?”

“Still having issues with the Tanzania group.” He chanced a look down at her. She was frowning, her tongue between her teeth, and gave his tie one last tug. Then she stepped back and smiled.

“Camila said you’ve been dealing with some issues there. Anything our office can help with?”

Diego shook his head. No way did he want Raoul’s help. If anything, he needed to prove he could do something of value all on his own. “I can handle it. But I’ll let you know if I get stuck and need a hand.”

She patted his arm. “Well, don’t let pride hold you back. And someday Raoul will appreciate you, Diego. It’ll come.”

“Thanks?” He gave her a sideways smile. “Okay, so who do I need to charm? Camila gave me the guest list but I put it in my desk and didn’t have a chance to look at it.”

She gave him the final rundown of the guest list, and he made his way into the drawing room, accepted a glass of white wine, and wished he could have something stronger. He knew Stephani had convinced Rose to come and he was nervous about seeing her again.

He scanned the room, looking for no one in particular, and took another drink of wine. Being without her for the last few days had been hell. He’d got used to seeing her at the end of the day. Seeing her smile, hearing her voice, kissing her lips. Watching her with the children. She was everything he’d always wanted, even though he wasn’t looking for it. She was running scared and he was . . .

He was falling in love. It should be scaring him to death but all he could think about was how he was going to convince her to stick with him. How was he going to break it to his father and brother that he’d fallen in love with the new nanny? What was he prepared to do to keep her by his side? He’d been thinking about it nonstop. He was the go-with-the-flow prince, but he’d never truly had anything worth fighting for before. The first step was being honest. But he hadn’t wanted to do it tonight. Tonight was too important, and Raoul needed support, not another complication on his plate.

Diego mingled for a good half hour, until everyone was called in to dinner. And at that moment Rose stepped to the door with Emilia and Max and his heart stopped.

Good God, they made a sight. Emilia in her pretty white dress with the blue sash, and Max in a little suit with a black tie and polished shoes. But Rose . . . she was a vision, in a color that was the same as her name but glittering with silver beads and crystals. She’d done something soft and romantic-looking with her hair, and she had the sexiest silver heels on her feet.

Raoul stepped to his side. “Roll your tongue back into your mouth, hermano.”

Diego gave his head a shake. “Sorry. I just . . .” He looked over at his brother. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

“Very. Has been for a few weeks, if one is inclined to look,” Raoul said. He frowned. “It’s not a good idea, Diego.”

Diego immediately felt the urge to come to her defense. To their defense, but he took a careful breath and smiled at someone passing by. “I can’t seem to shake it. She’s amazing. Sweet and kind and loving and infuriating.”

Raoul’s features softened just a bit, and Diego thought he looked rather sad. He wondered if Raoul was thinking of Ceci. Of course he must still be grieving. “She’s the nanny,” Raoul cautioned. “You’ve always kept your . . . indiscretions away from the palace.”

Diego’s gaze snapped to his brother. “There haven’t been any indiscretions,” he bit out, trying hard to keep his cool. Rose was different. She was important.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Raoul gave a small smile, and Diego noticed the lines of strain around his brother’s eyes.

“Let’s leave it for tonight,” Diego suggested. “It’s your birthday. Let’s enjoy the evening. I hear the cake is a work of art.”

Raoul put his hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Just be careful. I don’t want Rose to be hurt, or you either. And the children need stability.”

“Neither of us would do anything to hurt the children,” he replied, his previous resolution to keep his cool disintegrating. He would not create a scene, but he saw now what Rose had wanted from him. To own their relationship and not act as if it was something to hide. He glanced up at Raoul. “It’s not because of her class, is it? Because she’s got more class in her baby finger than most of the women here tonight.”

Raoul laughed, easing the tension. “Of course it’s not. She’s lovely. But perhaps too lovely. Being a part of this family has its challenges. We’ll talk later.”

Raoul left his side to greet Rose and the children, exclaiming over their new clothes and squatting down for a hug. Rose met Diego’s gaze over Raoul’s shoulder and smiled timidly, her cheeks coloring prettily.

His heart thudded, and he smiled back.

He went over to greet her, hoping he didn’t stammer or look foolish.

“You look dashing,” she said quietly, touching his lapel lightly before dropping her hand.

“And you really came.” He smiled down at her. “Rose, that dress . . .”

“Thank Stephani. She wouldn’t take no for an answer and insisted I be dressed appropriately. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

Once her first blush had faded, he realized she was more distant than he liked. Her reply lacked her usual warmth. Was she still mad at him? Nervous? He tried to lighten the mood. “Which is why Raoul is determined he’ll never have another assistant. She knows his routines and moods better than anyone.” He looked into her eyes. “Rose, about the other night—”

“I really must get the children. I’m on duty tonight.”

Her feelings couldn’t be clearer and he wished he could really talk to her, but the crowd was making its way into the massive dining room. Diego gestured with his hand. “Shall we go?”

Raoul approached with Emilia and Max holding onto each of his hands. “Ready?” he asked, motioning for the children to take Rose’s hands instead. The king joined them, nodding at Diego and then smiling at Rose. “Miss Walters,” he said. “I’m pleased you could join us. The children look wonderful—and happy.”

She dropped a curtsy. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied, looking down demurely. Diego saw his father’s eyes light with approval. Maybe there was a hope. After tonight he’d have a frank conversation with his father and brother about his feelings and intentions, and how it should best be handled both inside and outside the palace.

He was willing to work with them, but he would not give up. He wanted her in his life, and he’d prove to her that she belonged there.