ShearHeaven

KATYREGNERY

NEWYORKTIMESBESTSELLINGAUTHOR

SHEARHEAVEN

ForMariaRaduazzo.

WiththankstoAlessia,ValentinaandCarmen.

xoxo

Exceptforuseinreview,thereproductionorutilizationofthisworkinwholeorinpart,

byanymeans,isforbiddenwithoutwrittenpermissionfromtheauthor/publisher.

KatharineGilliamRegnery,publisher

Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsareproductsofthe

author’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,or

persons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.

Allrightsreserved,includingtherighttoreproducethisbookorportionsthereofinany

formwhatsoever.

Pleasevisitmywebsiteatwww.katyregnery.com

FirstEdition:August2017

SecondEdition:December2017

KatyRegnery

ShearHeaven:anovella/byKatyRegnery–1sted.

ISBN:978-1-944810-17-7

TableofContents

ALetterToMyReaders

SneakpeekofCountdowntoMidnight

TheAMFCollection

AlsoAvailableFromKatyRegnery

AboutTheAuthor

Chapter1

“LACONTESSADEPERUGIArequiresawashandstyletomorrow,Bella.Surelywe

canfitherin?”

Bella blinked up at her godmother and boss, Madame Gothel, who stood beside an

elegant,middle-agedwomanatthereceptiondeskofthesalon.

Surelywecan’t, thought Bella, looking down at the already-overbooked appointment

logfortomorrow.“I’msosorry,buttomorrowisalready—”

“Twoo’clock?”trilledMadameGothel,smilingattheclient.

“Si.Perfetto.Grazie,Madame.”

“Brilliant.AddlaContessatothescheduleattwo,Bella.”

It occurred to her to ask, With whom? but she held her tongue, writing “Perugia” in

tinylettersnexttothefouralready-confirmedappointments.

Madamesmiledatthecontessa,gesturingwithherpalmtotheglassdoorsthatledto

the hotel elevator. “I’m leaving for today. Let me walk you out.” Looking over her
shoulder, she scanned the reception area before sniffing at Bella. “Straighten up in here
beforelockingup,Bella.I’llseeyouathome.Goodnight.”

Thoughhershiftshouldhaveendedthreehoursago,Bellanodded.“Ofcourse.Good

night,Madame.”

Droppinghereyesbacktotheappointmentbook,Bellastaredattomorrow’sschedule

indismay.MadameGothel’sintimate,world-famousInnsbruckSalonandSpa,locatedon
the top floor of New York’s Metro Tower Hotel, was in high demand but seriously
understaffed.

Itdidn’thelpthatthelastreceptionisthadonlylastedthreedaysbeforeMadamehad

sacked her. Which meant Bella was now working double duty: as a stylist from nine to
five every day and as receptionist from five to eight every evening as well. Though she
didn’t recall agreeing to the increased responsibilities and hours, Bella’s parents had
passedawayfouryearsago,andMadameGothel,hergodmother,hadtakenherinwhen
she had nowhere else to go. Besides, there was something about Madame that made
refusingunthinkable.Andalittleterrifying.

Closingtheappointmentbook,Bellasighed.Fiveappointments.Fourstylists.They’d

havetofigureitouttomorrow.Perhapsoneoftheothertwoo’clockappointmentswould
cancel,shethought,thoughsheknewitwasunlikely.

Openingthedeskdrawer,shegrabbedtheringofsalonkeys,thenwalkedovertothe

glassdoors,squattingdowntolockthem.Backatthedesk,shetookouttheWindexanda
fresh rag, then got to work shining the chrome desk top, the glass doors, and the many
decorativemirrorsandshinysurfacesinthesmallreceptionroom.Shewateredtheplants,
takingcaretoremovethebrownleavesandthrowtheminthetrash.Asshefannedoutthe
magazines on the end tables, enjoying the quiet, a knock on the glass doors made her
jump, and she whipped around to see a man standing in the darkened lobby, his hand

raisedingreeting.

“Areyouopen?”heenunciatedcarefullythroughtheglass.

Sheshookherheadno,steppingovertothelockeddoors.“Sorry.”

“Damnit,”hemuttered,hiseyebrowsknittingtogetherashestaredather.

As she drew closer, she felt her face soften as she stared through the glass into dark

eyessurroundedwithlongerandthickerlashesthananymanonearthhadarightto.She
guessed he was about her age—in his midtwenties—and he wore a tailored tuxedo,
pressedandperfectonhistall,filled-outframe,awhiterosebudtuckedintothelapel.

“Wereopentomorrowmorning.”

“Ineedhelpnow,”hepressed,runningahandthroughhisdarkhair.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wringing her hands together. Madame would have her head if

she suddenly reopened the salon after hours without permission. “I can try to fit you in
tomorrowmorningat—”

“No!Please.Letmeexplain,”hesaid,holdinguphishandsinsurrender.“Mysister,

Valentina…sheis…”Herubbedthedarkbeardonhischinwithhisthumbandforefinger.

“Yoursister?”sheprompted.

“Sheneedshelpgettingready.”

“Oh?”

“Forherengagementparty”—heglancedathiswatch—“whichisinthree-quartersof

an hour.” He sighed, clenching his jaw. “Per favore! This is…eh! Che casino!” What a
mess!

She froze, the sound of her native language disarming her, making her lean forward

andaskautomatically,“Possoaiutarla?”HowcanIhelp?

Hisface,whichhadbeenfraughtwithconsternation,softened,hislipstiltingupina

slightsmileashelookeddownatherthroughtheglass.

“Parliitaliano?”YouspeakItalian?

“Sí,”shereplied.“Sonosvizzero,delTicino.”Yes.I’mSwiss,fromTicino.

“Seimoltolontanodacasa.”You’refarawayfromhome.Ashesaidthis,heunfurled

hisfists,whichwerebyhissides.

“Sí.”

“Miaiuterestiperfavore,bella?”Willyouhelpme,beautiful?

Bella.

She knew that he’d only used the word as a common endearment, but hearing her

nametumblefromhisgorgeouslipswasherultimateundoing.

WhatMadamedidn’tknowwouldn’thurther.

Shenodded,kneelingdownonthefloor,pullingthekeysfromthepocketofherdark-

blue denim skirt and unlocking the door. Rising slowly, she noted the shiny, stiff black
leatherofhisshoes,thepurplesilkcummerbundwitharepeatofgoldenshields,andthe
crisp,whiteshirttuckedintohistrimwaist.Shetookadeepbreathandliftedhereyesto
his,forcingherselfnottolingeronthefullnessofhislipsorswoonwhenshelookedinto
hisdark-blueeyes.

Hishandreachedforthedoorhandle,andhepulleditopen.

She’d been deprived of his smell from the other side of the glass, but the breath she

held became painful as her heart thundered against her ribs in recognition of it: Acqua
Nobile.

Exhalingsoftly,shebreathedinthroughhernose,hereyesflutteringclosedjustfora

momentasshesavoredthescent.

“Signorina?”

Blinkinghereyesopen,shelookedupathisface,takinganotherdeepbreath.“Sí?”

“Doyouarrangehair?”

“Hair?”

“Capelli?”heasked,pointingtohishead.

Capelli.Hersurname.Shenoddedathim,feelingdreamyfromthecombinationofhis

ridiculous eyelashes and delicious smell and hearing her name issue from his lips yet
again.“Sí.”

“Stupendo,” he said, reaching for her hand and pulling her from the glass tower.

“Comewithme.”

HISSERENEHIGHNESSNicoloAlessandroLorenzoGiovanniDe’Mediciwasnot

accustomedtobeggingforhelpfromanyone,buthistwinsister,Valentina,hadstumbled
intotheirsharedhotelsuiteanhourago,afterbeingoutalllastnightandmostoftoday.
Though he doubted very much that she’d been drinking, she smelled of Eau d’Club: a
mixtureofliquor,cigarettesmoke,andsweat;herblondehairwastangled;andhereyes
were bloodshot and weary. Nico had ordered her into the shower, then left the suite,
scrambling to find someone to get her in presentable condition for the engagement
festivitiesthatwerestartingatnineo’clock.

Racingtotheelevator,Nico’splanhadbeentogodownstairstotheconciergetoask

for help, until he noticed a hotel business listing on the elevator wall, including a salon
and spa within the hotel. He’d pressed the button for the thirty-second floor instead,
relievedtofindsomeonestillmovingaroundinsidethedarkreceptionarea.

Whenshe’dfirstturnedaround,he’dfeltaninstantjoltofheatsluicethroughhisbody.

Were he handed a brush and told to paint a picture of his “type”—of the sort of girl

who attracted him more than any other—little by little, her image would appear on the
canvas.

Shewaspetitewithjet-blackhairanddark-browneyes.Atight,blackleotard-liketop

hugged her lush, rounded breasts, showcasing the creamy white skin of her chest. She
wore no jewelry and very little makeup, but she needed neither in his opinion. His eyes
had dropped to her tiny waist, then to the full, dark-blue skirt she wore a la Audrey
HepburninRomanHoliday.

Therewasacountryfreshnesstoherthathadonlybeenreaffirmedwiththerealization

that she spoke Italian with a Swiss accent. The Italian-Swiss state of Ticino sat almost
entirelysurroundedbyItalyonthesouth,west,andmostoftheeastandwasknownforits
rivers,lakes,andfarmableland.Generallyregardedaslesssophisticatedthantherestof
Switzerland,itboastedahealthywineindustry,andNicoimaginedthisgirl,withherdark
hair unbound, standing in the afternoon sunlight of a Swiss vineyard, surrounded by
plumpgrapes,greenleaves,andrichsoiltheapproximatecolorofhereyes.

He still held her wrist as they entered the elevator side by side, but she pulled away

fromhimasthechromedoorsclosed,takingasteptoherleftasheswipedhiscardand
pressednineteen.ItwasonlythenNicorealizedthathehadn’tproperlyintroducedhimself
toher.

“Ah-hem,” he started in English, facing her and holding out his hand. “I’m Nico

De’Medici.”

She turned slightly, taking his outstretched hand in her much smaller one.

“De’Medici?That’safamousnameinTuscany.”

Heshookherhandgently.“I’mfromFiesole.”

“I’vevisitedVillaMediciinFlorence,”shesaid,pullingherhandaway.

He grinned at her casual reference to his family’s ancestral home. “Mm. Yes. They

kept the name, but the castle was overtaken by the Borghese family more than two
hundredyearsago.”

“DamnBorgheses,alwaysstealingcastles,”shesaidlightly,chucklingsoftly.

She seemed fairly proper, so her comment surprised him, but he laughed along with

her.“Sold,notstolen.Werelocatedtoaneighteenth-centuryvillainthehills.Muchless
drafty.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, nodding merrily as though colluding with him. “No one

wantstoliveinbig,draftycastlestodaywiththecostofpetrolsooutrageous.Villasareso
muchcozier.”

Hertonemadeitclearthatshedidn’trecognizehim,butthen,shewasn’tactuallyone

ofhiscountrymen,sinceshewasSwissandhewasItalian.VeryItalian.Astheonlysonof
HisSereneHighnessPrinceFilipeDe’Medici,NicowasanItalianprince.

An Italian prince with a dwindling family fortune, he thought, thinking of the villa

he’djustmentioned,whichhisfamilywasonthebrinkoflosing.

“IlovedFlorence,”shecommentedwithasmall,wistfulsigh.

“Wereyouonlythereonce?”heasked.

“Oh, no. Many times. When my parents were still…” Her voice trailed off and she

droppedhiseyes,lookingdownatherlittleblackslipper-shoes.

“Yourparents?”

“WetraveledagreatdealinItaly,”shefinishedsoftly.

Hesensedthatspeakingaboutherparentsbotheredher,sohenudgedhergentlyinthe

side with his elbow, trying to lighten the mood. “But you never met any De’Medicis or
Borghesesonyourtravels,eh?”

“Wouldn’tthatbesomething?”sheasked,hereyesbrighteningagainasshelookedup

athimandgrinned.“TomeetarealMediciorBorghese?”

Hetiltedhisheadtotheside.“Thinkso?”

She nodded. “The Italian nobility isn’t nearly as famous as the British, of course. I

mean,IcouldpickWilliamorHarryoutofacrowd,butplopanItalianprinceinfrontof
meandI’dhavenoidea.”

“Noneatall,”heechoed,staringathersweetexpression.

“ButIstillthinkitwouldbefun.Youknow,tomeetactualroyalty.”

“Hmm.” He wondered if he should reveal his identity, but he was enjoying her

commentswaytoomuchtoconfesswhohewas.“Maybeyouwill.Someday.”

Theelevatordingedonthenineteenthfloor,andNicoheldthedoorforher,watching

her skirt swirl softly as she stepped from the lift to the plush carpeting of the hotel’s
presidentiallevel.

“I’veneverbeenonthisfloor,”shewhispered.“Onlyguestsand‘necessarystaff’have

keycards.”

“Well,consideryourselfnecessarystafftonight,”hesaid,exitingtheelevator.

Nicoglancedathiswatch.ItwasalmosteightthirtyandValentinawouldbeexpected

downstairsintheGrandBallroominexactlythirtyminutes.

“Comeon,”hesaid,turningleftdownawide,eleganthallway.

Shefollowedbehindhim,herfootstepssoft.

“Ididn’tcatchyourname,”hesaidoverhisshoulder.

“It’sBella,”shesaid.“BellaCapelli.”

Hestoppedshortandturnedtolookather.“Yournamemeans‘beautifulhair’?”

Sheblinkedathim,thenshrugged.

“Isthatajoke?”

“No.”

“Apseudonym?Forworkpurposes?”

“No,”shesaidagain.“It’smyrealname.”

“Coincidenceorfate?”heasked,staringintoherbright,coffee-coloredeyes.

“Both?”shemurmured.

“Coincidenceandfate,”hesaidsoftly,thenadded,“Youreyesareverybeautifultoo,

BellaCapelli.”

“Grazie,”shemurmured,herpinklipssoftlypartedasshegazedupathim.

Notfardownthehallway,theyheardthesoundofpotteryhittingawallandshattering

tothefloor,andbothofthemflinched,turninginthedirectionofthemelee.

Hmm.Valentinamustbeoutoftheshower.

“Cosaèstato?”sheasked.Whatwasthat?

Helookedatherwideeyes,thengrabbedherelbow.“Valentinacanbe…ahandful.”

Shedidn’tresisthim,sohetuggedhertheremaininghundredfeet,pulledhiskeycard

fromhispocket,andflasheditinfrontofthereader.

“Ready,BellaCapelli?”

“Forwhat?”sheasked.

“Tomeetmysister.”

Withoutgivinghertimetorespond,hesurgedthroughthedoortohissuite,holdingit

openforhertofollow.

THEGORGEOUSPARLORwasincompletedisarray.

A coffee table was resting on its side, throw pillows were lying on the floor, and a

smashedcoffeemuglayinpiecesonthehardwoodfloor.

Someonewashavingatantrum.

“Vaiacagare!”screamedValentina,stalkingoutofthebedroomholdingthein-room

coffeemaker,awhitetowelwrappedaroundherchestandherwethairlyinglimparound
hershoulders.ShespiedNicoandBellabythesuitedoor.“Chiélei?”

Whoisshe?shedemandedofNico,narrowinghereyesandstaringdaggersatBella.

“This is Bella,” he said. “Lavora al parrucchiere dell’hotel.” She works in the hotel

salon.

“Youare…hairstylist?”askedValentinainheavilyaccentedEnglish.

“Yes,”saidBella,flickinganuneasyglanceatthecoffeemaker.

Valentinasighedwithannoyance.“Whateesyourspecialty?”

Bellaturnedherheadslightly,showingtheintricatebraidswovenintoacomplicated

bunonthebaseofherneck.“Ididthiswithoutamirror.Doyoulikeit?”

“Eet’sokay,”shesaid,fightingtolookunimpressed.Sheliftedherchin,lookingdown

hernoseatBella.“Understand,stylist-girl,Ineedhairforprincess.”

Shescoffedlightly.Someonehasahighopinionofherself.

Bella gestured to the desk and chair to her right, then reached for the poor

coffeemaker. “Why don’t you give this to me and take a seat over there? We’ll get
started.”

Valentina frowned at the machine in Bella’s arms. “That is broken…and I need

coffee.”

TurningawayasValentinasaunteredovertothedesk,Bellareacheddowntorightthe

upendedcoffeetableandplacedthetroublesomecoffeemakeronit.Sheliftedhereyesto
Nico.“Couldyouaskroomservicetosendupsomecoffee?”

“Of course,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “You know, you’re very calming.

You’regoodwithher.”

Bellaofferedhimaslightsmile,thenglancedathissister,whoploppeddowninthe

deskchairwithanirritatedsigh.“Doesherhighnesshaveabrush?”

“HerSereneHighness,”saidNico,winkingather,“hasabrushinthebathroom.Iwill

getitforyouandtakecareofthecoffee.”

Herserenehighness.Ha!Asif!

Bella grinned at his joke before crossing the room to stand behind Valentina. She

gathered the damp hair in her hands, running her fingers through it. “You have lovely
hair.”

“Grazie,”answeredValentina,lookingatherselfinthemirroroverthedesk.Hereyes

weresad.Heartsick,even.

“We’llmakeitlookverybeautiful,”saidBella,hopingtomakeherfeelbetter.“Don’t

worry.”

Valentina searched Bella’s eyes in the mirror, then looked at herself. “Are you…

married,signorina?”

“No, I’m not,” answered Bella, shaking her head and continuing the soothing

movementofherfingersthroughValentina’slong,blondehair.“I’vejustturnedtwenty-
two.Idon’tknowifI’mreadyyet.”

“I’mnearlytwenty-seven,”saidValentina,takingadeepbreathandclosinghereyes,

“andIdon’tknowifIameither.”

“Areyouplanningtogetmarried?”askedBella.

“Sí,”answeredValentina.“Nextweekend.”

Bellasectionedthehair,gentlyuntanglingeachofthesmallersectionsandlettingthe

airremovesomeofthemoistureasshegentlypulledtheunrulystrandsstraight.“Doyou
thinkyou’llbereadybythen?”

Valentinatookadeepbreathandsighed.“Idoubtit.”

“Canyoupostpone?”

“Thewedding?No.Assolutamentefuoridiscussione.”It’soutofthequestion.

“Doyoulovehim?”

“I don’t”—Valentina’s voice trailed off as Bella moved to another section of hair

—“knowhim.”

Bella’sbottomlipslippedbetweenherteeth,asitoftendidwhenshewasfacedwitha

puzzling circumstance. Why in the world would you marry someone—bind your life to
someone—youdidn’tlove?

Not that she knew very much about love personally, but her parents had loved each

otherverymuch,andthatwasallBellaneededtoknow.Shewantedamarriageliketheirs
ornoneatall.

“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”askedBella.

“No.” Valentina sighed again, her eyes tightly closed. “Be silent, stylist-girl. Do my

hair.Letmetorelax.”

Honestly,thoughtBella,swallowingascoffbutrollinghereyesatherreflectioninthe

mirror.Beingrichdidn’tentitleonetoactlikesuchaspoiledbrat.

Therewasaknockonthesuitedoor,andNicoappearedfromthebedroomtoanswer

it.AwaiterthatBellarecognizedfromthekitchenenteredtheroomwithalinen-covered
traythatboreasilvercoffeeserviceandtwoteacups.

“Hey,Bella,”hesaid,winkingatherasheplacedthetrayonthecoffeetable.

Shenoddedathim.“Hi,Marco.”

“You’reworkinglate.”MarcolookedupatNico.“ShallIpour,sir?”

Nico’s eyes, which tracked the distance between Bella and Marco, were slightly

narrowed.“No,thanks.That’llbeall.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, took out what appeared to be a twenty-

dollarbill,andofferedittoMarco.

Marcotookitwithagrin.“Ifyouneedanythingelse,sir,pleaseletmeknow.”

Niconoddedathim,gesturingtothedoor,thenturnedtothecoffeeservice,pouringa

cupandbringingitovertohissister.Heplaceditonthedeskbeforeher.

“Bevi,Tina.”Drink.

“Lasciamiinpace,”mumbledValentina.Leavemealone.

Heshrugged,placinghissister’sbrushonthedeskandlookingatBellainthemirror.

“Doyouwantsomecoffee?”

Bellahadassumedthesecondcupwasforhim.“Don’tyouwantsome?”

He shook his head, glancing at the tray, then back at her. “No. But I thought you

might.”

Touchedbyhisunnecessarythoughtfulness,shesmiledathim.“I’dloveacup.Thank

you.”

ASNICORETURNEDTOthecoffeepot,heglancedbacktoseeBellaraiseherarms

andreachbehindherneck.Onebyone,shepluckedpinafterpinfromherhair,placing
themintoaquicklygrowingpileonthedeskwhereValentinasatinquietmisery.Holding
thecoffeepot,Nicostoodfrozen,watchinginraptfascinationashermaneofblackwaves
wasfreed,thelongestofthetressesextendingwellpastherwaist.Asshepulledthefinal
pin, she shook her head back and forth, and he realized that her hair was so long, it
tumbledinwavespasthershoulders,endingjustsouthofherass.

His mind processed this new information to the lowest common denominator,

imaginingwhatshe’dlooklikecompletelynakedexceptforthatdarkhairfallingoverher
creamywhiteshoulders,coveringherbreastsassherodehim,hishandsholdingherhips
asshe—

Whoa.

Wait.

He blinked rapidly, looking back into the mirror, where he found her staring at him,

onlythistime,hewastheonewithwideeyesandflushedcheeks,histrousersjuststarting
totentashelockedhiseyesonhers.

“Nico, get my black Chanel dress out of the closet? And my light-pink Manolo

Blahniks?Theyhaveablackbuckle.”

Spurred into action by his sister’s request, he reached for the remaining coffee cup,

poured her coffee, and crossed the room to place it on the desk. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’ll
just…”

Avoiding Bella’s eyes, he turned briskly and headed to Tina’s room, quickly finding

theitemssheneededandlayingthemoutonherbed.Herblackdresslookedsostarkand
smallagainstthelight-bluesatinduvet;itwasaremindertohimthatshe’dbegrowingout
ofitverysoon.

Hewincedashereenteredthelivingroom.

“Youdon’thavetomarryhim,Tina.”

“Yes,IdoIhavetomarrysomeone,”shesaid.

“Itdoesn’thavetobehim.”

“What difference does it make?” asked Valentina in Italian, a note of desperation

squeezingNico’sheart.

“Howcanyoubuildalifewithhim?Youwon’treconsideryouroptions,sorellina?”

“Luièricco.”He’srich.Shelookedupatherbrothermeaningfully,andhisjawticked

with quiet anger. He and Valentina hadn’t squandered the family fortune, and yet they
weretheonesexpectedtorecoveritthroughlovelessmarriages.Itmadehimfurious.

“Vorreichelecosefosserodiverse,”hefinallysaidsoftly.Iwishthingsweredifferent.

Valentina shrugged, then sniffled softly, nodding at her reflection, which was more

refinedandelegantwitheveryflickandtwistofBella’snimblefingers.

“It’sallarranged,”shesaid,practicingherEnglish.“Leaveitbe,Nico.Vabenecosì.”

Looking up from his sister, he found Bella’s brown eyes searching for his in the

mirror,amyriadofquestionsbrighteningthem.Becausediscussinghistwinsister’sshame
wasn’t something that interested Nico, he raised his chin and asked, “Do you have
everythingyouneed?We’rerunningoutoftime.”

The softness in her face instantly tightened, and she nodded. “I’ll be finished in a

moment.”

“Whatelsedoyouneed,Tina?”heaskedhissister.

“Anewlife?”shequipped.

“Alldone,”saidBella,twistingafinalpieceofhairintotheelegantarrangementand

securingitwiththefinalpinfromthedesk.

Valentinaopenedhereyesandstoodup,checkingoutBella’squickwork.Thoughshe

stillworeatowel,shehadaregalcoronetonherheadnow,andwhileshedidn’texactly
look the picture of a blushing bride-to-be, it was certainly an improvement on the mess
she’dbeenwhenshe’dfirstreturnedtothehotelsuiteanhourago.

“Okay,” she said softly, nodding at her reflection. She turned to Bella, offering the

hotelstylistasadsmile.“Grazie.”

“Prego,”answeredBella,hereyessympathetic.

Valentina headed to her room to get ready, closing the door behind her, and Nico

checkedhiswatchagain.They’donlybeafewminuteslateifshewasquick.

Bellareacheddowntothedesktogathertheleftoverpinsintoherpalm,thenpivoted

tofaceNico.“Wasthereanythingelse?”

Helookedcloselyather—atherdarkhairtumblinginwavesaroundhershoulders,her

darkeyesandsoftlips.She’dsavedhisasstonight—andhissister’stoo.“Ioweyou.”

Shegrinnedathim,shakingherheadandpushingthechairbackintothedesk.“No,

youdon’t.Itonlytookafewminutes.”

Shewaskind.Anddecent.Andshe’dmadehimlaugh.Afterafewdaysinthisfast-

paced, grabby, grimy city, she was a breath of fresh air, and he wished he could get to
knowherbetter.

“Listen,” he said, taking a step toward her, words he didn’t expect or anticipate

suddenlyfallingfromhislips,“I’mgoingtobeintownforanotherweek.Howwouldyou
feelabout—”

Valentina’sbedroomdooropened,andshesteppedintothelivingroom,lookingevery

bit the young princess. She approached Bella, holding out a small tiara. “Will you help
me?”

“Ofcourse,”saidBella,takingthediamondtiarafromher.Shepresseditcarefullyinto

the intricate hairstyle, using two of the pins clasped in her hand to secure it. Then she
steppedbackandsmiled.“Youlookbeautiful,signorina.Likeaprincess.”

“Yes.Yes.”Valentinasighedheavily,thenturnedtoNico.“Andiamo?”

“Sí,”hesaid,holdingouthishandtoherandclaspingitfirmlywithinhis.Turningto

Bella, he cocked his head to the side, trying to feel relieved that his impetuous almost-
offertotakeherouttodinnerhadbeendiverted.“Yousavedtheday.Idon’tknowhowto
thankyouenough.Pleasebillus.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, smiling at him sweetly. “Non deve pagare niente,

signore.”

Nocharge.

Ignoringtheurgetodrophissister’shandandpullthisstrangelittleSwissgirlintohis

arms, he nodded at her in thanks, promising himself to figure out a way to repay her
kindnesstothem.

“Grazie,BellaCapelli,”hesaid,forcinghimselfnottorakehiseyesdownherbodyas

Valentinatuggedhimtowardthedoor.

“Prego,NicoDe’Medici,”shesaidsoftly,noddingathimandhissisterinfarewellas

theyslippedthroughthedoor,leavingherbehind.

Chapter2

“BELLLLLA!” TRILLED Madame Gothel as Bella pulled the front door to the

apartmentclosedandlockedit.“Isthatyouuuuuu?”

Bella rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. Dio dammi la forza. God give me strength,

shethought,crossingherself.

“Sí,Madrina.”Yes,Godmother.

“English,pleeeeease,”hergodmotherremindedher,roundingthecorneroftheliving

roominapinksilkbathrobe,herlong,darkhairwoundupinascarfandherfacecovered
withanaqua-coloredmasque.“Whattooksolong?Didyoulockup?”

Bellaofferedherboss/godmotherasmallsmile,quicklydecidingtokeepherdealings

withtheDe’Medicitwinstoherself.“Sí…uh,yes.”

“Excellent,” said her godmother, putting her arm around Bella’s small shoulders.

“WhateverwouldIdooooowithoutyou?”

YoudidjustfineuntilIgothere,shethought,lettingherselfbeusheredintotheliving

room,whichhergodmotherpreferredtocall“theGranSalon.”

HelgaGothelandBella’smother,KarinSchmidt,hadbeengirlhoodfriends,growing

upinthesamehistoricGerman-SwissvillageofBrig,notfarfromtheItalianborder.In
primary school and secondary school, the girls and Bella’s father, Giorgio Capelli, had
beeninseparable.Whentheyturnedeighteen,GiorgiohadproposedtoKarin,andHelga
haddecidedtostudyabroadinAmerica.

With the help of their parents, Karin and Giorgio had purchased and tended a small

vineyard and grotto—a rustic, family-run restaurant—making local wines and serving
goodSwiss-Italianfare.Helga,ontheotherhand,hadusedherparents’moneytoopena
small but prosperous hair salon in Brooklyn, New York, that eventually turned into six
salonsinManhattan.WhenshemetKlausIngraham,partialowneroftheNewYorkMetro
TowerHotel,shewasthirtytohisfifty-six,buthegaveherwhatshe’dwantedfromthe
very beginning: a chance to own and operate the premiere hotel salon and spa in New
YorkCity—theInnsbruck.

Klaushadpassedawayinshortorder,leavinghisyoungbrideapenthouseapartment,

thesalon,andhisshareofthehotel.

Unbeknown to Helga, the Capellis had named her Bella’s legal guardian, and when

KarinandGiorgiodiedinatraincrashwhenBellawasonlyseventeen,Helgahadbeen
compelled to offer Bella a place to live. So Bella had moved into her godmother’s
luxuriouspenthouseonthethirtiethfloorofthehotel…

…and while she grieved the terrible loss of her beloved parents, she became a

combination of Madame’s right-hand gal, student, apprentice, companion, and the child
she’dneverhad.

But Bella had quickly learned that Helga and Karin had very different ideas about

motherhood,andwhereBella’sownmotherhadbeenwarmandloving,encouragingher

daughter to make her own path in the world, Helga was domineering and manipulative,
expectingBellatoworkverylonghoursanddedicateherlifewhollytotheInnsbruckand
toHelga’scomfort.Withherownmother,Bellahadbeenencouragedtochaseherdreams;
withMadame,Bellafeltlikeaprisonerinavelvet-paddedcell.

But with her passport and green card locked up in her godmother’s desk for

“safekeeping,” it wasn’t as if she could just grab them and leave. And anyway, where
wouldshego?Madamedidn’tpayherasalary;Bellalivedrent-freewithhergodmother
andwas,forallintentsandpurposes,herdaughter.Shewasgivenacreditcardforclothes
and toiletries and was fed and sheltered in luxury. And yet…with no real money of her
ownandnoidentification,Bellawastrapped.

Trappedinabeautifulplaceandbeingtaughtavaluabletrade,sheremindedherself,

trying to be grateful. One day, Bella believed she would own and operate the Innsbruck
herself.Certainlythenshe’dbeabletodowhateverandgowherevershepleased.

“Bella,daaaaaarling,”saidMadame,leadinghergoddaughtertothesofabytheelbow

andforcinghertositdownbesideher,“wemusttalkbriefly,mylove,aboutyourmanner
withtheconteeeeeeessathisevening.”

Briefly?Ha.

“AttheInnsbruck,”startedMadamepedanticallywithanedgeinhervoice,“weoffer

luxury.Wecatertoacertainkindofclientele.WecannotaffordtomakeEuropeanroyalty
feelunwanted,dearest.Doyouunderstand?”

“Ofcourse,Madrina,but—”

“There are no buts, Bella,” said Madame, her eyes narrowing to irritated slits. “You

willrearrangetheappointmentstomorrowsothattheCountessofPerugiaiswithJoaquin
attwoo’clocksharp.”

“And Mrs. Carnegie, who is already booked with him…?” she asked, daring to

questionherboss.

Madameraisedherchin,hereyesnarrowingfurther,herlipspursing.“Figureitout.”

Bella’sshouldersslumped.Howwasshewassupposedtofigureitout?Howwasshe

supposedtohaveJoaquinservicetwoclientsatonce?Lookingintohergodmother’ssteel-
grayeyes,Bellafeltanoverwhelmingwaveoflongingforhermother’skindbrowneyes
andblinkedbackasuddenburnoftears.

“Oh,Bella,youlookabsolutelyexhausted,”saidMadame,pushingBella’slong,black

hair behind her shoulder. “After you straighten up here, you simply muuuuuuust go to
bed.”

ThoughBella’saunthadthehotelmaidstaffattheirdisposal,Madamefeltthatitwas

gooddisciplineforBellato“pitchin”athometoo.Soafterhershiftatthesaloneachday,
she was expected to “straighten up” at home…which meant wiping down the kitchen
counters;collectingthegarbageandtakingittotheincinerator;runningthevacuumover
the carpets in the living room, dining room and den; and giving the three penthouse
bathroomsaquickbutthoroughclean.

“Yes,Madrina.”

MadametoyedwithastrandofBella’shair,runningitthroughherfingers,theshiny,

bloodredofherlacquerednailsastrikingcontrastagainsttheblacktresses.“Thishairis
probablyworththousandsofdollars.”

“Really?”

“Mmmm.Beautiful,black,virginhair.SolikeGiorgio’s.”

Bella’s face softened, and she looked up at Madame, hoping for a few kind words

aboutherparents.“Imissthemsomuch.”

Madamedroppedthehairsuddenly,offeringherchargeabrittlesmile.“Thismaskis

dry. I must rinse it off. Turn off the lights when you’re finished, dear? And get some
sleeeeeeeeep,dearest.Youlookalmosthaggard.Tsk,tsk,tsk.Whatwillourclientsthink?
Youmusttakebettercaaaaaaareofyourself.”

“Yes,Madrina.”

Her godmother patted her cheek gently, then rose from the couch, sauntering across

thelivingroomanddownthehallwaytoherbedroomsuite,leavingBellaalone.

INEEDAIR.

Nico stepped onto the elevator, staring at the panel of buttons for a second before

decidingtotryhisluckwiththeroofinsteadofthelobby.Certainly,inthelobby,there’d
bemoreAmericanheiresseswithvisionsoftiarasontheirheads,farmoreinlovewiththe
ideaofmarryingaprincethanactuallygettingtoknowhim.

He watched the numbers over the door light up, going higher and higher. With any

luck,there’dbeadoorthatledtotheroofonthethirty-thirdfloor,andhe’dhaveafew
minutesofquietbeforeretiringtobed.Alone.

Abelldingedonhisarrivalatthetopfloor,andheexitedtheelevatorontoadimlylit,

quietlobby.Directlyacrossfromhimwasalong,gilt-framedmirror,andhestaredathis
reflectionasthechromedoorsclosedbehindhim.

HehatedwhatwashappeningtoTinadownstairs,havingtoputonahappyfaceand

pretendshewasfinewithmarryinganAmericanbusinessmanshebarelyknewanddidn’t
love.Buthavingachildoutofwedlock,whilenormaleformostothertwentysomethings
inEurope,wasabsolutelyunthinkableformostEuropeanroyalty.

UnlessyoulivedinMonaco,hethoughtwithagrimace.

Tina’sfiancé,SteveTrainor,whomNicohadonlymetforthefirsttimetonight,was

someone their father had suggested as a suitor. Fifteen years older than Tina, and richer
thanMidas,heownedoneofthelargestshippingcompaniesinAmerica.Aforty-oneyear
old bachelor with impeccable style, rumors about his sexuality had plagued him for the
past decade. Marrying Tina would solve two big problems for Steve: one, it would
upgrade his landside connections in Genoa, Italy, the second-largest shipping port in the

country, but two, it would put to rest whispers of Steve’s homosexuality, something that
hadapparentlybotheredhimforyears.

ButthecasualtyofthisarrangementwouldcertainlybeTina.

With such a huge age gap and no promise of compatibility, she would be bound in

marriagetosomeoneshedidn’tknowandcouldn’tlove.Butshe’dbepaidwellforit:a
generous allowance while they were married and a fifty million dollar settlement at the
end of ten years. One of Steve’s major conditions had been Tina’s promise to remain
marriedtohimforadecade…whichmeantthatTina,hisbelovedtwin,wouldbetrapped
with Steve until she was in her late-thirties—all so that the De’Medici name wouldn’t
have the public blight of a bastard, and money to refill its coffers. It simply seemed too
highapriceforonepersontopay.ButTinahadadamantlyrefusedtosharethenameof
herlover,whichhadleftNico’shandstied,unabletohelpher.

Heclosedhiseyesandsighed,turningawayfromthemirrorandstartingleftdownthe

hallway.Hesawanondescriptdoorattheendwithasignthatread,“RoofAccess.Hotel
PersonnelOnly.”

Tohellwiththat.HefeltinhispocketforhisSwissarmyknife.Ifhehadto,he’dpick

thelockforafewminutesoffreshairandsolitude.

Butasluckwouldhaveit,hedidn’thavetopickanything.Asheapproached,hecould

see that there was something lodged in the door, holding it open. Looking closely, he
realized that it was a comb. A black plastic hair comb. He plucked it from its spot,
carefully replacing it as soon as he was on the other side and wondering who’d put it
there.Thefaceofthebeautifulhairstylistfromearliertonightflittedthroughhismind.

BellaCapelli.

Althoughhe’dbeenseekingquiet,hecertainlywouldn’tmindrunningintoheragain.

She’d been an oasis of calm in an otherwise chaotic evening, agreeing to help him and
speaking his native language with her charming, country accent. Even joking with him
aboutmeetingroyaltyoneday,therewasstillnothingwheedlingorconnivingabouther.
Shewasafigurativebreathoffreshair,andNico,unabletostopthinkingaboutherforthe
remainderoftheevening,foundhimselflongingformore,nomatterhowilladvised.

Taking the dingy stairs two at a time, he opened the door to the roof and stepped

outside,carefulnottoletthedoorslamshutbehindhim.

He wasn’t surprised to find that there was no pool or bar on this rooftop—it was a

functional space with air conditioning vents and satellite dishes mounted along a low
balustrademadeofcement.Ithadbeenpaved,however,andwaswellmaintained,andas
Nico turned to the left, rounding the stairway, he saw a lone woman several yards away
sittingatapicnictable,herelbowsproppedupandthewhitelightofacellphonescreen
backlightingherhead.

“Hello!”hecalledout,notwantingtofrightenherwithhissuddenpresence.

She whipped her head around, several feet of long black hair swishing to the side.

“Who’sthere?”

“I’m a hotel guest,” he said, approaching slowly, coming into the moonlight as he

movedawayfromthestairway.“It’s…Bella,right?”

Shenodded.

“I’mNicoDe’Medici.Remember?Wemetearlier.”

Hershoulders,whichherealizedhadbeenuparoundherears,relaxed,andshenodded

again.“Ofcourse.Buonanotte,signor.”

“Buona notte, signorina,” he said, dropping a glance to her cell phone. “I’m

interruptingyou.”

“Youare,”shesaid,butshesoftenedthewordsbygrinningupathimassheplacedthe

phoneonthetable.“ButIdon’tmind.”

Hefelthissmileswellbeforehecouldstopit.“It’sabeautifulnight.”

“Yes,itis,”shesaid,offeringhimasmall,sweetsmileofherown,“andyou’vefound

mysecrethidingplace,thoughhotelguestsarereallynotalloweduphere.”

“Ifyoudon’ttell,Iwon’t.”Hegesturedtothericketytable.“MayIjoinyou?”

“Ofcourse,”shesaid,openingherpalmtoindicatethatthebenchacrossfromherwas

free.

Unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket, he shrugged out of it, laying it across the wooden

benchbeforesittingdown.Ashereachedforhisleftcufflink,removingittorolluphis
sleeve,helookedather.“It’sgoodtoseeyouagain,BellaCapelli.”

Ifitwasn’tsodark,hewassurehewouldhaveseenherblush.

“Howisyoursister?”sheasked.“Valentina?”

Nico’ssmilefadedasheplacedthesecondcufflinkonthetableandrolleduphisright

sleeve.“Bearingup.”

“CanIaskyouaquestion?”

“Goforit,”hesaid,proppinghiselbowsonthetable.

“Whyisshemarryingsomeoneshedoesn’tlove?”

Heclenchedhisjawreflexively.“Didshesaythat?”

Bella nodded. “She did. Well, actually she said that she doesn’t know him…and she

looked—well,honestly—miserable.I’mjust—IguessIdon’tunderstand.”

“Whatdon’tyouunderstand?”

“There’sonlyonereasontomarry,”shesaidsimply.

“Andthatis…?”

“Love,” she said, holding his eyes so earnestly, his heart clutched. She was so

guileless, so sincere and straightforward, he wished he could see the world through her
browneyesinsteadofhisownfar-more-jadedblue.

“That is the best reason,” he said gently. Somewhat reluctant to shatter her romantic

notionsaboutmarriage,heofferedherasadsmiletocushiontheblowofhisnextwords.

“Butthereareotherreasons,ofcourse.”

“Howcantherebe?Pledgingtolove,honor,andcherishsomeonewouldbesomuch

easierifitwasactuallytrue.”

Nico leaned back a little. It wasn’t his nature to talk about his sister to someone he

barelyknew.Infact,mostoftheirlives,heandTinahadbeencounselednottoevertalk
aboutpersonalmatterswithsomeonewhoseloyaltyhadn’tbeentrustedandfoundstrong.

Butthisgirl,sittinginthemoonlightwithherdarkhairandgentlequestions,seemed

sogenuine,hecouldn’thelpunburdeninghimself.

“Leiéincinta,”hesaidsoftly.“Thebaby’scomingthiswinter.”

“Oh,” murmured Bella, her delectable lips open in a perfect O. “Oh, I see.

An…unplannedpregnancy.Theydidn’tmeanto—”

“Herfiancéisn’tthefather.”

“Oh!”

Ifhereyesgotanywider,they’dtakeupherwholeface,hethought,hislipstwitching

inunexpectedmerriment.

“Why…um,Imean,thatis—whyisn’tshemarryingthebaby’sfather?”

Nico’smoodinstantlysoured.“Shewouldbe…ifshe’dtellmewhoitwas.”

Bellawinced,thennodded.“She’skeepinghimasecret?Doyouhaveanyideawhoit

mightbe?”

Sighing, he shook his head. “Tina’s an independent woman. Her own job. Her own

apartment.Herownfriends.SheworksinRome.Iloveher,butIdon’tseeherthatoften.
Shecamehomewhenshefoundoutshewasintrouble.”

“You’reCatholic?”

Henodded.“Very.”

Sheheldhiseyes,buthecouldalmostfeelthegearsinherheadshiftingandwhirring;

he knew that she was thinking carefully about the situation, and somehow he knew that
shewastryingtofindthegoodinit.Whenherlipstippedupandhereyesbrightened,he
heldhisbreath.

“Thensheismarryingforlove,afterall,”saidBella,reachingacrossthetabletotake

hishandsinhers.

“Whatdoyoumean?”heasked,lettingherdelicatefingerswraparoundhishandsand

holdthem.

Hersmilegrew,andshesqueezedhisfingers.“Fortheloveofherchild.”

Fortheloveofherchild.

Itwassosimple,yetsoenormous.

Soobvious,yetsopure.

Tina could have quietly gotten rid of the child, of course, but she’d chosen not to.

She’dchosentohaveit.She’dchosentomarrysomeoneshebarelyknewsothatherchild
wouldhaveanameandrespectability.Bellawasright.Tinawasmarryingforlove.

Tearsprickedhiseyes,andheblinkedthem,hisbottomlipslippingbetweenhisteeth

asheadjustedhisfingerstolacethroughhers.Whenhislungsstartedburning,hetooka
deepbreath,thenreleasedit,feelinglessinknotsthanhe’dfeltforthreeweeks.

“Wheredidyoucomefrom?”heaskedsoftly,thinking,Fromheaven.

“Ticino,”sheanswered,cockingherheadtothesideandgrinningathim.

“Letmetakeyououtfordinnertomorrownight.”

Lookingdownattheirhandsasthoughshe’djustrealizedtheywereclaspedtogether,

shepulledhersawayandfoldedthemontheedgeofthetable,justinfrontofherbreasts.
Itwasadefensivemove,andhedidn’tlikeit.

“IworkverylatehoursonSaturday.”

“Sundaythen?”

Sheshookherhead.“IreconcilethebooksonSundaynights.”

“Monday.”

“Ideepcleanthesalonandspa.”

“Tuesday?”

“Work.”

“Wednesday,then.”

“ItakeaclassatCityCollege,”shesaid,swingingherlegsoverthebenchasthough

preparingtoleave.

“Thursday?”hecried,standingfromhisseat.

Shestoodaswell,thenturnedtofacehim,crossingherarmsoverherchest.

“I’mbusy,”shesaid,herwistfulsmilefilledwithsuchquietlonging,ittightenedhis

chestandhurthisheart.

Whydidshehavetoworksohard?Weren’ttheremaidshereatthehoteltodeepclean

thefacilities?Whywasshestuckdoingit?

Wasitjustanexcusesothatshedidn’thavetogooutwithhim?

No. He didn’t believe that. They had just enjoyed talking to one another. He was

certainofit.

Besides,hisdebttoherwasmounting:first,she’dcometoTina’srescueearlier,and

now,she’dsomehowfoundtheperfectwaytocomforthimabouthissister’smarriage.

Andyet,whileshewassobusybeinghissavior,hesensedthatherlife—fullofwork

withoutamomentforfun—wasn’tatallwhatshewantedandcertainlywasn’tatallwhat
shedeserved.

She lifted her arm and swept it from one side of her body to the other. “Aren’t the

lightsmagnificent?”

Nico glanced over his shoulder. It looked like every other major city at night—no

different,nobetter.

“Someday,”shesaid.“SomedayI’mgoingtogettoseethisbigcity.”

“Friday?”hemurmuredurgently.“Please.”

“I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath and smiled gently at him. “Good night, Nico

De’Medici.Buonanotte.”

He watched her turn and walk away, wondering if he should try to stop her, then

decidingagainstit.He’dfigureoutanotherwaytoseeher.

“Goodnight,Bella,” hecalledto herback,missing heralready. “Buona notte, dolce

angelo.”

Goodnight,sweetangel.

HOW TEMPTED SHE’D BEEN to say yes to handsome Nico last night in the

moonlight,butMadameGothelstrictlyforbadeBellatodatehotelguests.Itwasthefirst
and most important of her godmother’s many rules, and Bella simply didn’t have the
couragetobreakit.Notforamanwho’dbegoneinaweek.

Before he’d interrupted her, she’d been looking at pictures of her parents in their

vineyard, at their restaurant, on vacation in Milan, Florence, and Rome. She’d been
feeling very melancholy, in fact, before he’d arrived. He had no idea how much his
companyhadbeenneededandhowmuchhisinvitationtodinnerflatteredher.Shehadno
ideawhathedidforaliving,thoughhehadthepolishedlookofabankerorlawyerand
wasstayingonthemostexpensivefloorofthehotel.

What fun we could have for a week, she thought longingly but banished the idea

quickly. And then what? If Madame found out, she’d throw Bella out of the hotel.
Penniless.Homeless.Heartbroken.Alone.Itwasn’tworthit,nomatterhowhandsomeor
funnyorcaringNicowas.He’dbegone,andshe’dbeleftbehind.

“Bellllla!”exclaimedMadame,click-clackingthroughthereceptionarea.“Yourhead

isinthecloudstoday!Looklively,girl.Someone’scoming.”

Bellahadbeenslouchingonthedesk,amixoftiredanddreamy,butnowshesatup

straight,fixingasmileonherfacefor…for…ValentinaDe’Medici.

Dressedinankle-lengthskinnyblackpants,ablack-and-whiteshell,andatiny,trendy

blackblazer,withaKateSpadepurseandherblondehairheldbackbyGuccisunglasses,
shewastheverypictureofmodernsophistication.

“Hello,” said Bella, blinking in surprise at their unexpected guest. “Welcome, Miss

De’Medici.”

“De’Medici?”repeatedMadame.“Not…ValentinaDe’Medici?”

“Sí,”saidValentinawithanarrogantshrugofhershoulders.

“Oh!”criedMadame,pressingapalmtoherheart.“Oh,yourSereneHighness!What

an honor. May I congratulate you on your upcoming wedding? My goodness. How may
webeofservice?”

Bella’smouthdroppedopenasshestaredatValentinainshock.

SereneHighness?

A…princess?
Wait.A.Minute.

Her eyes widened in dismay as she recalled scoffing when Valentina asked for “hair

foraprincess.”Wasthistrue?And,Oh.My.God.Ifshewasaprincess,thanherbrother
wasa…a…

“Wouldn’tthatbesomething?TomeetarealMediciorBorghese?”

“Thinkso?”

“TheItaliannobilityisn’tnearlyasfamousastheBritish,ofcourse.Imean,Icould

pick William or Harry out of a crowd, but plop an Italian prince in front of me and I’d
havenoidea.”

She supposed that a black hole opening in the floor of the Innsbruck Salon and Spa

andswallowingherwholewasunlikely,butDio,she’dneverwishedforanythingmore.

“Thees stylist girl,” said Valentina, gesturing to Bella with a dismissive flick of her

hand.“Shedeedmyhairlastnight.Lastminute.Nowshecomestohavelunchwithme.
Subito.”

Madame’sheadjerkedtofacehergoddaughter,hereyeswide.“Isthistrue?Wereyou

ofservicetotheDe’Medicislastnight,Bella?”

“Tina—thatis,theprincess,um,PrincessValentina—herroyal…um…”

“SereneHighness,”suppliedValentina,keepingahandonherjuttedhipandlookingat

neither Madame nor Bella, just posed as though the paparazzi would be arriving
momentarily,andshe’dbeready.

“She needed a last-minute updo!” finished Bella frantically. “And no one else was

here.”

“Yes.Yes,”saidValentina,sighing.“Wearefeenishedtalking.Shecomeswithmeto

havelunch.Subito.Andiamo.”

Bella looked at Madame, shrugging her shoulders and cringing as Madame fluttered

herfingersaroundherthroat.“B-ButyourSereneHighness,Bellahasclientsto—”

“Idon’tcareaboutthees,”saidValentina,lookingatMadamelikeshewasafleaona

junkyarddog.“Shewillbebacklater.Ciao,signora.”

“Yes.Yes,ofcourse.Bellamustjoinyouforlunch.IamsosorryIquestionedyou.”

SheturnedtoBellawithawaveringsmile,whiskingherhandsathergoddaughter.“Bella?
Why are you standing there? Her Serene Highness has invited you to lunch. Andiamo!
Subito!”

Bella scurried from behind the desk, smoothing the sides of her intricate braid and

tucking her crisp, white, button-down blouse into the waistband of her pink-and-white
toilepencilskirt.

FollowingValentinaintotheelevator,sheturnedtotheprincess—princess!—as soon

asthedoorsclosed.

“Princess Valentina, I had no idea who you were yesterday. You must allow me to

apologizefor—”

Valentina groaned and waved her away with another bored flick of her hand, then

openedherpurse,pulledoutacard,andhandedittoBella.

Onthefrontitread,inblackscriptletters,

HisSereneHighnessNicoloAlessandroLorenzoGiovanniDe’Medici

Herheartskippedabeatassheflippeditovertoread,

TheboathouseinCentralPark12:00.—Nico

“Your lunch ees with him, not me,” she said, lowering her sunglasses, but damn if

Belladidn’tcatchtheslighttiltofherlipsasshesaidit.“Mybrothertalksaboutyouall
morninguntilIkeelhimorIgogetyou.”Sheshrugged.“Heeesmytwin.Idecidetolet
himleeve.”

Bella’scheekswereachingfromthewidthofhersmileassheclutchedthestiffwhite

cardinherhand.Shechuckledsoftly.“Grazie,Valentina.”

“Prego,Bella.Ciao,”shesaid,stridingoutoftheelevatorandacrossthemarblelobby

withoutglancingback.

And Bella, who rarely left the New York Metro Tower Hotel at all, let alone for

somethingasfunasalunchdatewithahandsomeprince,sailedthroughthelobbybehind
her,hailedacab,andaskedtobetakentotheboathouse.

Chapter3

“ARE YOU ANGRY?” ASKED Nico, grinning at her over a glass of Sauvignon

Blanc.

Hehadgreetedherwithacustomary,Europeantwo-cheekkiss,thenheldherchairfor

herasshesatdown.Frankly,dressedinhip-huggingjeansandapinkbutton-downdress
shirtrolledatthecuffs,hewasevenmorebeautifulthanhe’dbeeninatuxedolastnight.
Hiseyessparkledbeneathsweeping,darklashes,somehowmischievousandmanlyatthe
sametime.

Shecockedherheadtotheside,tryingtolooksevere.“Aboutyouusingyoursisterto

luremetolunch?Orbecauseyoufailedtomentionthatyou’reanItalianprince?”

“Either?”heasked,cringing.“Both?”

“YoumighthavementionedthatyouwereaprincewhenIwasgushingaboutWilliam

andHarry,”shepointedout.

“Fairenough,”hesaid,shakinghishead.“Butyouweresocuteaboutit.”

Cute?Huh.Wascutegood?Wasshecutelikeakittenoralittlesister?Orcutelikea

womanhe’dliketokiss?shewondered,suddenlyhopingforthelatter,thoughshehadno
expectations.Shewasstilltryingtoconvinceherselfthatshewasactuallyplayinghooky
fromworkonabusySaturdayafternoon.

“Sorry,Bella.”Heshrugged.“Mycousinsgetalltheattention.”

“Waitaminute,”shesaid.“Doyouactuallyknowthem?”

“Well,”hesaid,tryingdesperatelynottogrinather,“besidesthefactthatwe’rethird

cousinsonceremoved,yes,wedoruninsomeofthesamecircles.”

Orusedto…beforethelastofourfortunewasmis-handled.

“Theyachting,skiing,andpolocircles?”

He chuckled, his good mood quickly restored by her sass. “More when we were

youngerthannow.Everyone’ssobusy.”

“Oh,yes.Buyingcastlesandkeepinguppalacesis—”

“—villas,”hecorrectedherwithagrin.

“—soexhausting.”

“Quite so,” he said in a credible British accent, reaching for the bottle of wine. “Do

youdrink?”

“Certo.”Shenodded.“Myparentsownedunpiccolovigneto.”

“AvineyardinTicino?”Hepausedinhispouring.“Thensurelyyou’dpreferared?”

Perhapsitshouldn’thavesurprisedherthatherememberedshewasfromTicinoand

knewtheregionwasknownprimarilyforitsmerlots,butitdid.Inthebestpossiblecurl-
your-toessortofway,itdid,becauseitmeantthathewaskeepingtrackofher.

“Notatall.Ilikewhitetoo,”shesaid,“andSauvignonBlancismyfavorite.”

“Minetoo,”hesaid,pouringherafullglass.“Myuncle’svineyardinFiesolemakesa

meanbottle.”

“Dio!”sheexclaimed,piecesofinformationcomingtogetherinherhead.“You’renot

talkingabouttheVillaDe’MediciVigneto!”

“Theveryone,”hesaid,raisinghisglass.“Youknowit?”

“Ido,”sheanswered,hermindsegueingbacktomanyhappyafternoonsspenttouring

thevineyardsinandaroundFlorencewithherparents.“Irememberitwell.”

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, and she looked up at him, meeting his eyes,

whichhadtakenonaslightlypainedlook,likeperhapssomethingwashurtinghimalittle.

“Thankyou,Ni—um,yourSereneHighness?”

“No. Absolutely not. You are not calling me that. Nico, okay? Nico is who you met

lastnight.NicoiswhoIam.”Heraisedhisglass.“Andyou’rebeautifulBella,whokeeps
savingtheday.Salud.”

Liftingherglass,sheclinkedhis,shakingherheadathisblatantflirtation.“Salute.”

Heheldhereyesasshetookasipofthechilledwine,savoringitonhertongueasher

parents had taught her and breathing slowly through lightly parted lips to smell the
bouquetbeforeswallowing.

“It reminds me of friulano,” she sighed, recalling a crisp, delicious regional white

winefromnortheasternItaly.

Hegrinnedather,swirlinghisglassabsentmindedly.“Nowthat’smyfavoritewineof

all.”

“Minetoo!”

“Myunclestillmakesone.HecallsitLaDolceVita.”

“Thesweetlife,”saidBellawithasigh,replacingherglass.“I’vehadit.”

Nicoleanedbackinhischair,searchingherface.“Tellme…didyourbossgiveyoua

hardtimeaboutleavingwithTina?”

“I think she was so stunned to have a princess standing at her reception desk, she

didn’thavetimetoprocesswhatwashappening.Andyoursisterhasawayofmakingher
wishes…”

“…mandatory.”Henodded.“Tinararelyasks.Shemuchpreferstoorder.”

“Well,itcertainlyworkedwithmymadrina.”

“Your madr…” He screwed up his face. “Your godmother? Your boss is your

godmother?”

Bellanodded.“Sí.Myparentsdiedseveralyearsago,andMadameGothelbroughtme

toNewYork.Myparentswereherchildhoodfriends.”

“I’m so sorry about your parents,” said Nico, his eyes compassionate. “I’m not

particularlyclosetomine,butstill…ifanythinghappenedtothem…”

“I miss them every day,” said Bella, clearing her throat before taking another sip of

wine. “But I am lucky to have Madame’s help and guidance. She is training me in all
facetsofsalonandspamanagementandownership.I’msurethatsomedaytheInnsbruck
willbemine.”

“Issheveryold?”heasked.

“No.She’snotfiftyyet.”

“Itsoundslike‘someday’isalongwayoff.”Hisforeheadcreased.“Doessheexpect

you to work this hard for the next twenty or thirty years? Cleaning and accounting and
classeseverynight?Notbeingabletoacceptadateorhavealittlefun?”

“Idoworkhard,but…”Bellalickedherlips.“Iwasn’tentirelytruthfullastnight.”

“Howso?”

Sheleanedforward,loweringhervoice.“It’struethatIhavetohelpher,but…well,I

exaggerated my busyness last night. The truth is, I’m not allowed to date guests of the
hotel.Notunderanycircumstances.”

“Orwhat?”heasked,leaningforwardandusingthesameconspiratorialvoiceasshe.

“I don’t…” She shrugged and shook her head, then grinned at him. “I don’t know,

actually.ButI’mnotseventeenanymore.Shedoesn’thavetoletmelivewithher.Iguess
shecould…sendmeaway.”

“BacktoSwitzerland?”

“Ha!”scoffedBella.“She’stoofrugaltoputmeonaplanebacktoTicino.IguessI’d

justbe…out.Youknow—”

“Onthestreets?”heasked,hishandsomefacescrewingupintoascowl.

Shenodded,takinganothersipofwine.

“Surelyyourparentsleftyousomething?”heasked.

Shesighed.“AllmymoneywasgiventoMadameformylivingexpenses.”

“Andshedidn’tsetanyaside?Soyoucouldbeindependentoneday?”

Bella thought about this for a moment. “I don’t believe she wants me to be

independent.”

“Why would she?” asked Nico, scoffing with something that looked a little like

disgust.“She’dloseherslave.”

Cringingattheuglyword,Bellaleanedawayfromhim.“I’mnotherslave.”

“Really?”heasked,sittingbackinhischair.“Howmuchdoyoumakeforanswering

phones,fixinghair,stayingafterhours,cleaning,accounting—”

“You’vemadeyourpoint,”sheinterrupted,feelingdefensive.

“No,Ireallywanttoknow,”hesaid.“Howmuch?”

Sheraisedherchin,pickinguphermenuandscanningthewordsonthepage,though

shewasn’tprocessingthematall.Withoutlookingathim,shesaidinanevenvoice,“She
broughtme here whenI had nowhereto go. I liverent-free in herapartment. I have my
ownbedroomand—andfood.Acreditcardforincidentals.AndI’mlearningatrade.That
doesn’tringofslaverytome.”

“Soyoumakenothing.”

“Ihavefreeroom,board,andaneducation.”

“Chattelinvelvetchains.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasked,loweringhermenutomeethiseyeswithafrown.

“Property.Aslave.Apet.Caredforinluxury,butfarfromfree.”

“Apet?”shecried.

“Imeannooffense,”hesaidquickly.“Ijustdon’tlikethewayyou’rebeingtreated.”

Well, she didn’t like what he was saying about her, or about Madame, whom her

parentshadentrustedtoraiseBellaaftertheirdeaths.Shelookeddownatthemenuagain.
“Itmustbeveryeasytojudgefromyourloftyposition.”

“No,Bella,”heinsisted.“Mypositionisn’tsoverylofty.Andactually,mylifeisn’tso

differentfromyours.”

“Notdifferent?”sheasked.“You’reaprince!Royalty!Youcandowhateveryou—”

“—wantto?”Heshookhishead.“No.I’mafraidnot.Notatall.”Hecockedhishead

to the side. “Think about it—Tina doesn’t want to marry Steve Trainor, does she? And
yet…”

Bella thought about this. Valentina’s circumstances—an impromptu wedding—

certainlymadealotmoresensenow.Shecouldn’tthinkofanotherEuropeanroyal,aside
from the Monaco royals, who’d ever had a child out of wedlock, and she imagined that
titlesand…andvillas…wouldn’tbepasseddowntothosechildren,wouldthey?

“No,shedoesn’t,”saidBella,herheartfillingwithcompassionforNicoandhissister.

Maybe they were in similar circumstances, after all. What had he called it? Chattel in
velvetchains…whichmadeherwonder:“Whodoyouhavetomarry?”

NICO’S HEART SANK A little as she asked this question, because even though he

knewitwasn’tright,hewashopingtosidestepitthisweek.Hewashopingtospendthe
week—every waking moment—with Bella, but if he answered her honestly, there was
everychanceshe’drefusetoseehimagain.

Still,lookingintoherclearbrowneyes,hefoundhecouldn’tlie.He’dhavetotakehis

chanceswiththetruth.

“HernameisElena.”He’dneverseenanyone’seyeslosetheirsparklesoquickly,and

ithurthiminsidetoseeit.“PrincessElenaofGreeceandDenmark.Ourfamiliesareold
friends.”

Thesmileshemusteredwasbrave.“Friendshipcanbeagoodbasisformarriage.”

“To be clear, I haven’t asked her yet…but I’m supposed to propose after Tina’s

wedding.”

“Why ‘supposed to’?” she asked, her eyes compassionate as she reached for her

wineglassandtookasip.

“The relationship between Italy and Greece is special,” he said, reciting words he’d

heardfrominfancy.“Ourtraderelations,especially.Infact,Greeceisourmostimportant
economic partner. Our militaries collaborate. We share a lot of tourism. Strategically,
they’reoneofourmostimportantallies.”

Shenodded,urginghimtocontinue.

“Plus, the De’Medicis…well, there isn’t a delicate way to say this: we’re broke,” he

said,“orquicklygettingthere.AndElena’sfamilyisverywealthy.”

“Ahhh,”shesaid,noddingasthoughfiguringsomethingout.

“What?”

“Lastnight…yoursistermentionedherfiancé’sfortune.Ijust—”

“—thought she was a money-grubber?” he asked sharply, ready to protect his sister,

evenifitwas,partially,thetruth.

“No,”saidBellagently.“Pleasedon’tthinkthat.Ididn’tjudgeher.Ionlynotedthatit

wassaid.”

“Sorryto snap atyou,” he said.“I hate that shehas to marrya practical strangerfor

moneyand—and,anameforherbaby.”

“Iunderstand.Atleastyou’llbemarryingafriend.”

A friend? He barely knew Elena. Yes, they’d met each other at various functions

throughouttheirchildhoods,buthehadn’thadanactualconversationwithherinyears.He
hadnoideaiftheywereevencompatible.

“There hasn’t been”—he cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush with heat—“a

marriagebetweentheroyalhousesofItalyandGreeceforsometime.Itwouldbeagood
thing.”

“Forwhom?”

“Tourism?Trade?TheworldwatchingasanItalianprincemarriesaGreekprincess?”

“But…willitbegoodforyou?”sheasked.

Frankly,hehadnoidea.ButValentinawouldn’tgethersettlementfromSteveTrainor

for ten years. His parents expected him to pay off their debts now with money from his
futurewife:Elena.

“As you say…marriages built on friendship are solid. Our families approve of the

union.”

A crease appeared on Bella’s forehead as she folded her napkin and placed it on the

table, looking up at him with heavy eyes. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to have
lunchtogether.”

Nico’shanddartedouttoreachforhers.“Pleasestay.”

“You’realmostengaged.”

“ButI’mnotyet.ElenaandIaren’tevendating.Wearen’ttogetheratall.Notyet.”He

rubbedslowcirclesinthesoftskinofherpalm.“Please.Don’tgo.”

“Itwouldn’thurther,then?Ifshesawustogether?”

Nicoshookhishead.“Notatall.Isweartoyou,we’renotacouple.Nopromiseshave

beenmade.Myparentshavespokentohers,andherparentshavewelcomedthematchif
Elena agrees. But she’s doing aid work in Africa. I doubt she knows anything about it
yet.”

Shetriedtopullherhandaway.“Still…”

“Bella,”hesaid,refusingtoletgoofherhandanddecidingtoputallhiscardsonthe

table,“sincemeetingyoulastnight,you’reallIcanthinkabout.And…Iwanttospendas
muchtimeasIcanthisweekwithyou.”Hegulped.“WhileI’mstill…free.”

“Why?”sheasked.“Whyme?”

“Becauseyou’rebeautifulandfun,andyoudon’ttreatmelikeaprince.Becauseyou

give great advice and make me laugh, and when I’m with you, the weight of the world
slipsfrommyshoulders.Ipromisenottokissyou,orfallinlovewithyou,ortrytomake
youmine…”Heshrugged,thensighed.“I’msorry.IguessI’mnotaverygoodbargain.”

“Letmedecidethat,”shesaid,squeezinghishandbeforepullinghersawaytoplace

hernapkinbackonherlap.Shelookedupathim,herlipsunabletokeephersmilefrom
spreadingasshesaidsoftly,“Istillhavetowork.”

“Ofcourse.”

“SoIdon’tknowhowmuchtimewe’llhave.”

“We’llmakethemostofwhatwedohave.”

“Andnokissing,”shesaid.

“Or falling in love,” he promised, though he had a funny feeling in his heart that he

wouldn’tbeabletokeepit.

“Wecanbefriends.”

“Friends…,” he murmured, knowing already that his feelings for her had surpassed

friendshipandhopinghecouldkeephisendofthebargain.

“Iwouldn’tbeabletoforgivemyselfifIhurtsomeone…ifIhurtPrincessElena.”

“Youwon’thurtanyone,Bella…exceptme,ifyourefusetoseemeagain.”

Shegrinnedathim,shakingherhead.“HowamIsupposedtosaynotoaprince?”

Andforonce,HisSereneHighnessNicoloAlessandroLorenzoGiovanniDe’Medici

washappythathewasaroyalanddidn’tfeelitaburden…becauseifthat’swhatittook

forBellaCapellitospendtimewithhimthisweek,he’dtakeitandsayGrazie.

AFTERLUNCH,HECONVINCEDhertolethimtakeherforarowboatride,andshe

satacrossfromhiminthesunshine,talkingaboutherdismallackofsight-seeingforthe
fiveyearsshe’dlivedinManhattan.

“So,”saidNico,hisarmstannedandmuscularasherowedthemfartheroutontothe

littlepondinthebiggestcityintheworld,“you’veneverseentheStatueofLiberty,the
ballet,theopera,theroofgardenattheMet,aYankees—”

“—orMets!”

“—game, taken the Staten Island Ferry, or seen a Broadway show. Is that about the

scopeofit?”heasked.

Bellahadstoppedmakingexcusesforherlongdaysofwork.“Yep.That’sthegistof

it.”

“Madonna!” cried Nico. “That’s unbelievable. You’re in this great city, and you

haven’tseenathing!Haveyouhadavacationinfiveyears?”

Shakingherheadbackandforth,Bellasaid,“Nope.Notevenadayoff.Imean,unless

youcountChristmas…thoughIendupsettingthetable,makingthedinner,andcleaning
upafter.”

“ThenIdon’tcountChristmas,”saidNicowithasourlook.

“Whenareyouworkingtomorrow?”

“I have to be in at six a.m., but we close at three on Sundays, so I’ll be finished by

six!”

“Atwelve-hourday?”

Shenodded.“Inearlytogeteverythingready.Lasttoleavetomakesureeverything’s

inorder.Remember…she’sgroomingmetotakeover.”

“Willyoubetootiredtoseeme?”

Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. Never. “No. It will give me something to

lookforwardtoallday.”

“Metoo.”Henodded.“Okay.Sooutofallthethingsyou’veneverdone,whichwould

youliketodofirst?”

The marquees of the many Broadway shows had taunted her on the few and rare

occasions that she left the hotel. What was it like, she wondered, to sit in a theater and
watchpeopledanceandsingwhohadthetalentandcouragetostandupinfrontofafull
house?Shewishedshecouldknow.

“Iseeyouthinking,Bella…What’llitbe?”

“HaveyoualreadyseeneveryshowonBroadway?”

He chuckled at the way she backed into her answer with a question. “Not by a long

shot.Shallwecatchonetogether?”

Shesighedlongingly.“WhenIflewtoNewYork,aftermyparentspassed,therewasa

magazineinmyseatbackwithanarticleaboutWicked.Youknow,theplaybasedonThe
WizardofOzcharacters?Italllookedsowonderful.”

“We’llgotomorrow,”hepromised,rowingthembacktowardtheLoebBoathouse.

“Canyouaffordit?”sheasked,rememberingtheirconversationatlunch.

“I’malawyerinFlorence,”hesaid.“Imakeagoodliving…justnotenoughtosave

thepropertiesandbusinessesownedbytheDe’Medicifamily.IfIonlyhadtoworryabout
myself…”

His heavy voice trailed off and they were silent as he rowed, the sound of the little

boatcuttingthroughthewaterandtheambientnoiseofotherconversationsdriftingtoher
on the breeze. As much as Bella wanted to see a Broadway show sitting beside Prince
NicoDe’Medici,somethinginsideofherfeltunsettled.

Hadshearighttospendthesepreciousmomentswithamanwhowouldsoonbelong

toanother?HehadassuredherthattherewerenopromisesbetweenhimselfandPrincess
Elena,sotechnically,shewasn’tdoinganythingwrong…butwasshebeingsmart?

Bellawastheverydefinitionofinexperienced.Shehadneverreallyhadaboyfriend,

asidefromaflirtationwithanotherstudentfromlowersecondaryschool.Buttheextentof
their love affair had consisted of a peck on the lips while walking home from a school
play,whichhadmadeherinnocenthearttakeflight.Wasitwise,then,toagreetospend
this time with Nico, who, she guessed, had had many love affairs and known many
women?Lookingupathim,atthewaythesunkissedthegoldstrandsinhisbrownhair,
she knew that she was perilously close to falling for him already, and she barely knew
him. What would happen, then, when he bid her good-bye and proposed to Princess
Elena?Howwouldshemendherbrokenheart?

Ipromisenottokissyou,orfallinlovewithyou,ortrytomakeyoumine…

His promise returned to her, but she found little comfort in it. She was discovering,

minutebyminute,thatitwasn’thisloveforherthatwouldhurtherinthelongrun.No.It
wouldbeherloveforhimthatcoulddestroyher,thatcouldleavealastingandagonizing
markonhersoul.

Sodon’tfallinlovewithhim,shetoldherself,chancinganotherglanceathimthrough

loweredlashes.

But how does a simple girl from a small town spend a week with a prince and say

farewellwithherwitsandwillintact?

She took a breath and sighed, looking ahead at the Bow Bridge just over Nico’s

shoulder.

“Tellme,”hesaidgently.

“Tellyouwhat?”

“Whatever’sonyourmind.”

Sheslidhereyesfromthebridgetohisface.“Idon’t…Idon’tthinkit’sagoodideato

seeyouagain.”

He stopped rowing, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. “But Broadway…

tomorrow…?”

Shetriedtosmile,butcouldn’t.

“I’m sorry, Nico,” she said, “but after a week of wonderful, I’ll go back to my

unwonderfullife.Andyou…”

“I’llhavetomarrysomeoneIdon’tlove.”

Bella gulped, her voice soft and uncertain as she stared at his throat, unable to look

intohiseyes.“IfIspendanymoretimewithyou,I’llbegincaringforyou.Iwon’tbeable
tohelpit.”

“Wecouldbefriends,”hesaid.

“No,”shesaid,raisinghergaze.“Wecouldn’t.”

“Please.”

“I’msorry,”shewhispered.“Ithinkyou’dbettertakemehome.”

NICO CLENCHED HIS JAW as she dropped his eyes and turned away from him,

feeling frustrated beyond belief. All he wanted was her company. All he wanted was to
spendalittletimewithher.Wasthatsowrong?

Deep inside, he knew it was, because the moment he’d laid eyes on her last night,

somethinghadhappenedtohisheart,anditdidn’tfallundertheheadingof“Friends.”Not
byamile.

“Iwishyou’dreconsider,”hebitout,hisvoicesoundingroughandalittlehaughty.

“Please understand,” she said as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth and held

thereforamoment.“I’mjusttryingtoprotectmyself.”

Huffingsoftly,heputsomemuscleintohiserstwhileleisurelyrowing,steeringthem

backtotheboathousequickly.

“I’llwalkyoubacktothehotel.”

Shenodded.“Thankyou.”

Nico stepped easily from the boat as a dockhand secured the bow line to a waiting

cleat, then Nico offered his hand to Bella. She stared at it for a moment, her eyebrows
furrowing, and he was just about to pull it away when she reached for it, clasping it to
hers.Forcinghimselfnottosmileorwhoopwithgladness,hepulledherupandontothe
dock,thenlacedtheirfingerstogether,hopingshewouldn’tpullaway.Andtohissurprise
andrelief,shedidn’t.

TheNewYorkMetroTowerHotelwasabouttenblockssouth,soNicosetastrolling

pacenorthtowardtheShakespeareGarden,reluctanttohastentheirfarewell.

“I’ve already seen more today than I’ve seen in years,” said Bella, and he had the

feelingshewastryingtolightenthemoodbetweenthem.“Ididn’tknowNewYorkcould
feelsomuchlikethecountry.”

“Tellmewhatyoumissthemostabouthome,”hesaid.

“My parents,” she sighed. “But also the mountains and lakes. The air is so much

fresherthere.HaveyoubeentoTicino?”

“Yes,”hesaid.“AgoodfriendofminehasaplaceonLakeLugano.”

“Mmm. That’s the most popular spot of all. But you’re missing out if you’ve never

seenLakeMaggiore.Lesserknown.Justaslovely.”

“What else?” he asked, savoring the feel of her small hand nestled within his, her

delicatefingersthreadedthroughhis.

Shecontinuedonaboutplacesshelovedthathe’dvisitedatsometimeoranother,all

ofthemfadingincontrasttoherloveliness,tothegentlecadenceofheraccentedEnglish.
Didshehaveanyideahowbeautifulshewas?Howwelcomeshewasinhislonelylife?

Glancing to his left, where she walked beside him, he drank in the sight of her. She

was dressed in a slim blue-and-white skirt and white blouse, with her long, thick hair
braided and wound into a bun on the back of her neck. But some dark tendrils escaped,
curling beside her ear, framing her face. He didn’t miss the envious glances of the men
who passed them, the lusty looks at her trim waist and small, rounded breasts, though
Bellaseemedoblivioustotheattention.

Astheonlysonofaroyalfamily,therehadalwaysbeenhighexpectationsonhim.To

make his family and Italy proud, to marry well, to have sons who would ensure the
De’Medici line, to augment the family’s dwindling fortune either by trade or by
marriage…allofwhichwouldbehandilymetbymarryingPrincessElena.

Andyet,ifhewerejustaregularman—abusinessmaninNewYorkclosingadealora

tradesman attending a conference—how he would like to consider Bella more seriously.
What he wouldn’t give to be able to woo her…if that’s what he wanted. Alas, it wasn’t
evensomethingthathecouldconsiderifhispositionmeantanythingtohim.

“…andIguessthewinestoo.Oh!Andthepolenta!It’sbetterinTicinothananywhere

elseintheworld.”

“IsanythingnotbetterinTicino?”heasked,grinningdownather.

“Hmm. Well, we’re technically part of Switzerland, of course, but sometimes…I

mean, culturally speaking, we’re very different. Culturally, we’re Italian. The old men
playbocce,andweeatgelato,andwe’resomuchmorerelaxedthantherestofSvizzera.
It’salmostlikea—a,um,acrisid’identità.”

“Anidentitycrisis.”

“Sí,”sheconfirmed.“Anidentitycrisis.AmISwiss?Yes.AmIItalian?Yes,again.”

“Isitbadtobetwothings?”askedNico,pullingheruptheroughhewnstepsintothe

garden, which was an explosion of color: red and blue tulips, pink magnolia blossoms,
hot-pinkandwhiteimpatiens,andyellowdaffodils.

“Niiiiiico,”shebreathed,pausingatthetopofthestepsandsqueezinghishand.“Dio.

Howbeautiful!”

He turned to face her, watching her dark eyes widen with pleasure, her pink lips

partingsoftlyasshelookeddownthestonepaththatsnakedthroughtheverdantheavenin
themiddleofathrummingcity.Andsuddenlythestingofherrejectionandherinsistence
thattheynotmeetagain,felttooterribletobear.Heturnedtofaceher,pullingherintohis
arms,andpartinghislipsashedroppedthemtomeethers.

Shegaspedinsurpriseandheletherbreathehimin,movinghislipsgently,tenderly,

longingly over hers, his arm tightening around her as she whimpered softly and melted
againsthim.Herbreastspressedagainsthisshirt,andhisbodyreactedinstinctuallytothe
softpressure,tighteningwithwant.Herhands,whichhadfallenlooselytohersides,now
metbehindhisneck,lacingtogethertodrawhisfaceclosertohers.

He inhaled the scent of her—clean linen and fresh air and a slight taste of the wine

they’d shared at lunch—and he knew that if heaven had a fragrance, he was smelling it
nowonearth.Andheneverwantedittobefartherthanarm’sreachfromhimagain.

But Bella pulled away suddenly, unlocking her fingers with a gasp and staring up at

Nico with a mixture of surprise and betrayal. Her chest heaved up and down with her
shallowbreathing,andsheraisedherhandtobrushtwofingersoverherlips.

“Bella,” he started, the look on her face making him reach for her, but she stepped

back,outofhisgrasp.

“Youpromised.Nokissing.Nofallinginlove,”shesaidsoftly,tearsbrighteningher

eyes.“Andnow…andnow,you’vegoneand…”

“I’mnotsorry,”hesaidevenly,hisonlyregretthatthesweetestkisshe’deverknown

wouldbetheonlyonethey’devershare.

Shegulped,lookingdownatherfeet.“Ihavetogo.”

Andjustlikethat,herecanted.“Bella,I’msorry.Ipromise…Iwon’ttouchyouagain.

Iwon’t—”

Herheadsnappedup,andsheseizedhiseyeswithhers.“ButIwantyouto.Don’tyou

see?That’stheproblem.NowthatIknow…Nico,Iwant you to touch me like that over
andoveragain.”Shebitherlip,avertinghereyesinmisery.“Don’tfollowme.”

Sheturnedandstartedbackdownthestairs,andNicofeltpanicgriphim.Wasthisthe

end?Wastheirsolitarydayalreadyover?

“Bella!”hecried.“Wait!”

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, reaching up to brush a tear from her

cheek.“Addio.Addio,Nico.”

Farewell.

Shehurrieddowntherestofthesteps,andNico—whowouldaskElenatobehiswife

attheendoftheweek—coulddonothingbutwatchhergo.

Chapter4

“WELL,ICERTAINLYHOPEshedoesn’texpectforyoutoentertainhereveryday!”

complainedMadameGothelonSundayafternoon.“WegotsobusythatIhadtostepin!”

Godforbidyouactuallyworkatthebusinessyouown.

Carefulthathermadrinawouldn’tseehereyesroll,Bellamadecertainherfacewas

neutralbeforelookingup.“I’msosorryforthetrouble,Madame.”

“Oh, Bellllla, darling. It’s not your fault. It’s flattering, I suppose, that the princess

wouldseekoutyourcompany,”sniffedMadame.“ThoughIcan’timaginewhyyyyyy.”

Bellalookedupathergodmother,onherguard.“Whatdoyoumean?”

“Well,mydear,”shesaid,holdingoutherhandspalmsupassheleanedherheadto

the side, “you’re a simple country girl. Of what interest could you possibly beeeeeee to
her?”

“WespokeaboutTicino…aboutwine…aboutmyparents—”

Madame Gothel sighed heavily, adding under her breath, “Stimulating conversation

foraroyal.”

“She seemed to like me,” murmured Bella, wondering if Nico had been faking his

interestinher.Hadshebeenboringtohim?Provincial?Simple?

“Of course she did.” Her godmother cupped her cheek. “You are a…pleasant sort of

girl.”

Bellasteppedback,outofhergodmother’sreach.

“Madame,” she started, then cleared her throat, mustering her courage. “I’ve been

meaning to ask you. You are—I mean, you do intend to let me take over here someday,
don’tyou?”

MadameGothel’seyeswidened,andshestraightenedherhead,pursingherlipswith

displeasureasshestaredathergoddaughterinsurprise.“Whatabold,inelegantquestion.”

“I don’t mean to offend you. I just assumed. The classes. The training. But we’ve

neveractuallydiscussedit.”

Hermadrinachortledsoftly.“Allthatissothatyoucanbemyhelper,dearest.”

Chattelinvelvetchains.

“But my parents…” She was about to say, But my parents always intended that I

inheritandrunthegrottoandvineyard,whichiswhyshehadassumedthatMadame,who
hadnochildren,hadplannedtodothesamewithherbusiness.

“Yourparents…what?”Madame’sexpressiongrewinstantlyicy.“Wereyouaboutto

refertoyourparents’money?Whatlittletheygavemetocareforyou?”

“No,” said Bella, though Nico’s words returned to her: Surely your parents left you

something?“Butnowthatyoumentionit…didmyparentsleavemeanything?”

“Yes.”Madameraisedherchin.“Pennies.”

Bella thought back to her parents’ business: to the wine bottles that they boxed and

loadedontoatruckfordistributioneachyear,totheseeminglyendlesscrowdsoftourists
who kept the grotto busy all spring and summer long. Had they been in debt? Less
successfulthanBellaremembered?

“Areyoucertain?”shedaredtopress.

“This is outrageous! You have lived under my roof, enjoying my hospitality, dear

Bella, for five years now. Even if there had been anything when you arrived, it has
certainlybeenspentbynow.”

“But,Madrina—”

“Enough!”shoutedMadameGothel,hereyesblazing.“Oneafternoonwithaprincess,

andyoureturnungratefuland—andentitled.Well,I’lltellyouwhatyou’reentitledto,pet:
nothing. You’re twenty-two years old now. When you’re ready to move on, I certainly
won’tstandinyourway.”

Moveon?thoughtBella,awaveofpanicmakingherchesttighten.Withwhat?Allshe

hadwasthecashtipsthatclientsslippedintoherhandswithoutMadame’snotice.Itwas
barelyenoughforaweek’sstayataseedyhotel,letaloneenoughtosetupanindependent
life.

“No,Madame,”shesaid,realizinghowtrappedshewas.“I’msogratefultoyoufor—

for everything. I didn’t mean to sound entitled or ungrateful. You’ve been very good to
me.”

“That’sright.”

“Thankyou,Madrina,”shesaidsoftly.

“Well, now you’ve upset me,” said her godmother, sniffing as she pulled her black

cardigansweatermoresnuglyaroundherbonyshoulders.“AftereverythingI’vedonefor
you…”Shewhimperedsoftly,lookingatBellawitheyesthatweremuchmoreangrythan
hurt.“IthinkI’dbettergoandrestfortheremainderoftheafternoon.Closeupatthree.
Clean up here. And be quiet when you come home. I need time to recover from this—
this…unpleasantness.”

“Yes,Madame,”shesaid,watchinghermadrinaturnandheadfortheglassdoors.

At the last moment, Madame Gothel turned. “Out of respect for your mother, dear

Karin,Itookyouin.Butlestyouhaveforgotten,youarenot,infact,mydaughterormy
blood.WhatIdoforyou,Idooutofpity.Don’tevertakemeforgrantedagain,Bella…or
questionmyintentions.”

“No, Madame,” Bella whispered, tears biting at her eyes at the mention of her

mother’sname.

“Should it ever happen again, I fear we will need to say farewell, dearest,” she said

sharply.“AmIunderstood?”

“Yes,”murmuredBella,loweringherheadashergodmotherenteredtheelevatorand

disappearedfromview.

Oh,Mama.Imissyou.

Bellatookadeep,unsatisfyingbreathandshookherhead.

There’snofuturehere,shethought,reachinguptoswipeathereyes.I’mtrapped—just

likeNicosaid.Aslave.A…pet.Isthiswhatyouwant,Bella?Isthisthelifeyouwant?The
futureyouwant?Ifnot,dosomethingtochangeyourfate.

ShethoughtaboutNico—abouthisassertionthattheywerebothtrapped.Butforthe

firsttime,sheunderstoodthatshewasnotactuallytrappedinthesamedesperatewaythat
he was. She could, in fact, if she planned carefully, choose to leave this life behind and
create a different one. Nico, on the other hand, would be a prince from cradle to grave,
withallthepressuresandexpectationsofthatbirthright.

Shesighed,sittingbehindthereceptiondeskastheunexpectedlyquietafternoonwore

on,distractingherselfbyreviewingeverypreciousdetailofherdatewithNicoyesterday:
thesurprisethathewasaprince,thelovelylunchattheboathouse,thewayhelookedin
the sunlight as he rowed her around the lake, the profusion of color in the gorgeous
garden,andthewayitfelttobekissed—reallykissed—forthefirsttimeinherlife.

Leavinghimstandingatthetopofthestairs,hisfaceremorseful,hisvoicedesperate,

hadcarvedaholeinBella’sheart,anditachednow,throbbingasshetracedthelinesof
hisfaceinhermind.Ithurttoknowthathewashereinthehotelforseveralmoredaysbut
that she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see him. She’d fallen hard for him yesterday, and
subsequentdateswouldonlymaketheirfinalfarewellunbearable.

Lookingup,shefoundGreg,theSundayconcierge,exitingtheelevatorandopening

the glass doors of the salon. Bella fixed a smile on her face, glancing down at the
reservationbook.NodoubtGreghadsomeappointmentstomake.

“Hey,Bella,”hesaid.

“Hi,Greg,”sheansweredbrightly.“Doyouhavesomenewclientsforme?”

“Uh,no,actually.”Heplacedanenvelopeontheshinychromesurfacebetweenthem.

“Thisisforyou.”

“Forme?”

Gregnodded.“Foryou.AndI’mmeanttosaythatifyourequiresomethingtowear,

you’re to give your name at Maxime’s and Renata will take care of you, all expenses
paid.”

“Takecareofme?”

“Closethestore.Soyou’llhaveprivacytoshop.”

Bella’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at Greg, trying to understand what was

going on. Maxime’s was one of the hotel boutiques that sold top-of-the-line ladies
fashionsatexorbitantprices,andRenatawasthestoremanager.

“Idon’tunderstand.”Sheglanceddown.“What’sintheenvelope?”

“Ihavenoidea,”saidGreg.“Itcametomeviamessengerwiththeexpressinstruction

that I personally deliver it to you, creating a distraction, if necessary, to be sure it was

giventoyouinprivate.”

“I…”

A small walkie-talkie on Greg’s belt loop beeped twice, and he looked down at it.

“Dutycalls.Seeyouaround,Bella.”

Heturnedandleftthesalon,pressingtheelevatorcallbuttonandsteppingintothelift

as soon as it arrived. Picking up the envelope, Bella stared at it for a moment before
openingit.

Thefirstthingshewithdrewwasatickettotheeighto’clockperformanceofWicked.

Gaspingwithsurprise,shegiggledsoftlywithdelightasshestaredatitpinchedbetween
herfingers,notingtheseatwasORCHD-102.SheknewenoughaboutBroadwaytheaters
toknowthattheticketsheheldinherhandswasforaseatsomewhereinthefront/middle
ofthetheater—aperfectandveryexpensiveseat.

Thesecondthingshewithdrewwasanote.Ithadnosignature,noragreeting.Itread

simply,Please.

Nico.

Herheartsoaredassheheldtheticketinonehandandthenoteintheother.

Whateverwillpowershe’d musteredyesterdaydisappeared likeapuff ofsmoke,and

shesighedwithhappiness.Shewouldchoosewonderfulwithhim,andsufferunwonderful
withouthimlater.

Howintheworldcouldshesayno?

NICOHADARRIVEDATthetheaterthirtyminutesinadvanceandhadbeenseated

promptly.Butnow,withfiveminutesleftbeforetheshowwassupposedtostart,hishopes
were waning. Bella had been quite firm with him yesterday about being unable—or
unwilling—to see him again, and truly he understood why. She was right to avoid him.
Smart. He was, as he’d observed to her yesterday, a bad bet—a man spoken for, for all
intentsandpurposes.Andyethecouldn’tgiveuponthesheerpleasureofhercompany
withoutonelasttry.Itwasprobablyplayingdirtytoofferheratickettotheoneshowshe
wanted so desperately to see, but offering her any less than her heart’s desire seemed
pointless.AsforarrangingaprivatesessionatMaxime’s?Hedidn’twanttogiveheran
excuse to say no. While his allowance was meager compared with other princes of
Europe,itwascertainlyenoughtospoilaprettygirlalittle.

Andyetitappearedthathiscarefulplanswereinvain.Turningbacktowardthestage,

he sighed in disappointment. With three minutes until curtain, it looked like he’d be
watchingtheplayalone.

More’sthebetter,hetriedtoconvincehimself.WhyshouldsheandIgettoknoweach

other better, creating wonderful memories, when we have to say good-bye on Friday?
What’sthepoint?Herubbedthebeardonhischin,tryingtomakepeacewithhissituation.
She’swisetostayaway.

“Miscusi,credochequestosiailmioposto.”Pardonme,butIthinkthat’smyseat.

His heart started racing as a smile burst across his face. Nico looked up to see a

goddess standing beside him, grinning down at him with her wonderfully warm, fresh,
familiarsmile.Heleapedtohisfeet,drinkinginthesightofherfaceasshetiltedherhead
backtolookupathim.

“Bella,”hemurmured.“Seiquieseibellissima!”You’rehereandyou’resobeautiful.

“Grazie,” she said, dipping into a small curtsy before looking back up at him. “I

couldn’tresist.”

“NorcouldI,”hesaid,tryingtohearheroverthefiercehammeringofhisheart.

Herlipswerepinkandglossy,andherlong,darktresseswerecurledandpinnedback,

falling over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Pale pink and gauzy, the knee-
length dress she wore fit her petite frame perfectly, making her look even more angelic
andinnocentthanusual.Hiseyestrailedoverherbodycovetously,hismouthwateringas
hetracedthelinesofherbarelegs.

“You’reavision.”

“I’m returning the dress tomorrow,” she said, easing past him to take her seat, her

smallbreastsbrushingagainstthecrisp,whitecottonofhisdressshirt.

“Thehellyouare,”hemuttered.“I’lltellthemnottoacceptit.”

“Don’tmakemeregretcoming,”shesaid,sittinggracefullyinthemaroonvelvetseat

beforelookingupathimwithno-nonsensebrowneyes.

“Fine.Returnit,”hemuttered,takinghisseatbesideherasthelightswentdown.

Butwhentheorchestrastartedplayingtheoverture,hereachedforherhand,takingit

in his gently, weaving their fingers together and desperately hoping she wouldn’t pull
away.

Whatwoulditbelike,hewondered,tomarryforloveinsteadofduty?Tocomehome

tosomeonelikeBellaeverynight?Nodoubtshewouldrunaroundthevineyardrowswith
their children, laughing and warm, and at night—O, Dio—at night, he would hold her
small body in his arms, the softness of her breasts falling over his forearm, her curves
fittingperfectlyagainsthim,skintoskin,reachingforeachotherunderthecoversbefore
finallysleeping.

A brief vision of Princess Elena flashed through his head—his mother had e-mailed

Nicoapictureofherthisafternoon.ShewasaccompanyingaUNPeacekeepingmission
through Ethiopia right now, and the picture was of her—with her short blonde hair,
angularbody,dust-coveredfaceandseriousexpression—holdingastarvingblackchildin
herarms.

Elenawasagoodperson.Suchagoodperson.

He would try his best to do right by her. To be good enough for her. To make his

familyproud.

But for now…just for now, in his last, precious moments of freedom, he would

selfishly forget about her and concentrate on the lovely girl beside him. Turning just
slightly,NicowatchedBella’sfaceinprofile:herwideeyesandpartedlips,herswanlike
necklongandgracefulinthehalflightfromthestage.He’dtastedthoselips,andithad
onlywhettedhisappetitefurther.

Heheardanechooflaughterinhishead,feltaquickflashoflongingashethoughtof

Bellachasingtheirchildrenthroughasunlitvineyard…

No,insistedhisbrain,shuttingdowntheheavenlyvision.

Itwouldneverbe.

Thoughhewasfallingforhermadly,therewasnofutureforthem,anddreamingofit

wouldonlymakesayinggood-byeharder.

“O, Dio!” she cried softly, turning to face him as the lights came up. “Isn’t it

wonderful?”

“You’reenjoyingit?”heasked,grinningatherexuberance.

She sighed. “The way she flew! The special effects are just…” She grinned at him,

cockingherheadtotheside.“AmIgoingonandon?”

“AmIcomplaining?”

“No,”shesaid,butshefeltself-conscious,recallingMadame’sharshwords,…you’re

asimplecountrygirl.“ButIdon’twanttoboreyou.”

“Bore me?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re the most fascinating person

I’veevermet.”

“Ha.AsimplecountrygirlfromTicino?Right.”

“I mean it, Bella,” he insisted. “You’re just…you. All your emotions on the surface.

Allyourwordshonestandtrue.Nogames.Noangles.”

“Angles?”

“Whenyou’reaprince,sometimesitfeelslikeeveryone’sworkinganangle.”

“Hmm,”shesaid,herheartclenching,“I’msorryforthat.Itmustbeaterriblewayto

liveyourlife.”

Hisexpressionlightened.“Tonight,nothingisterrible.Tonight,Bellacara,everything

isperfectbecauseyou’reherebesideme.”

“PrinceCharming,”sheteased.

Heleanedforwardandpressedhislipstohers—thesweetest,lightesttouch,butBella

feltitinhertoes.

“Foryou?Yes.Iwillbeascharmingaspossible.”Hestoodup,stillholdingherhand.

“Andtothatend,cara,howaboutaglassofchampagne?”

“I’dloveit,”saidBella,lettinghimleadheruptheaisle.

Aftertheirbubbly,theyresumedtheirseatsforthesecondact,whichwasevenmore

emotional than the first, and Bella found herself crying by the end, a surprise reunion
betweentwocharactersmakingherheartfulltobursting.

Ahandkerchiefappearedinherhand,andshewipedhercheeksgently,carefulnotto

smear her carefully applied makeup. She’d enjoyed dressing up like a princess just for
tonight—doing her hair, makeup, and nails in the quiet salon after everyone had gone
home,thenvisitingRenatatochooseadress.Renatahadtriedtoconvincehertochoosea
sexyblackcocktaildress,butitdidn’tfeelatalllikeBella.Whenshesawthepale-pink
tulle,goddess-stylecocktaildress,shehadn’tbeenabletolookaway.Andfromthelook
onNico’sfacewhenshearrived,ithadbeentherightchoice.

Asheledherfromthetheateraftertheshow,theyfoundhorsesandcarriagesforhire

outside, and Nico insisted that they take a ride together. The evening had grown chilly
duringtheirshow,sothedriverhandedthemanubbywoolblanketthatNicolaidacross
theirlapsbeforeputtinghisarmaroundhershouldersandpullinghersnuglyagainsthim.

ThoughthesensiblepartofBella’sbrainknewthatsheshouldinsistonfindingacab

andheadinghomealone,shecouldn’tresisttheromanceofamoonlightcarriageridewith
aprince.Shesighedinhappiness,layingherheadonhisshoulderandclosinghereyesas
theyclip-cloppedawayfromTimesSquareandtowardCentralPark.

“Why’dyoucome?”askedNicosoftly,hisdeepvoiceclosetoherear.

“Icouldn’tstayaway,”sheansweredhonestly.

“Ishouldn’thaveinvitedyou,”hesaid,holdinghercloser,hishandheavyandwarm

onherupperarm,whereherubbedgently.

“Ishouldn’thavesaidyes.”

“Butyoudid.”

“Idid,”shesaid,openinghereyesandtiltingherheadbacktolookupathim.“AndI

wouldagain.”

“Wouldyou?IfIaskedyoutomeetmetomorrow?Youwould?”

She nodded. “There’s no use resisting you. As long as you’re here…I won’t say no

again.”

Herwordssoundedforlorn,though,andNicoflinched.

“Bella,”hesaid,“Idon’twanttohurtyou.Ican—Imean,Iwillleaveyoualone…if

you tell me to. I’ll tell the driver to stop. I’ll say good-night and leave this carriage. I’ll
payhimtotakeyouhome,andIwon’tbotheryouagain.Ipromise.”

“That would hurt me more,” she said, her eyes dropping briefly to his lips before

skatingbackuptomeethisgaze.

“We only have a handful of days…and even those are spoken for. The rehearsal and

dinneronFriday.TheweddingonSaturday.Elenawillbeherebythenand…”

Shereachedupandplacedafingeroverhislips,hereyesflutteringatthesoftwarmth

ofhisskin.“ThenwehaveuntilFriday.Andit’sonlySunday.”

“Fivedays.”Hislipspuckeredashekissedherfingersoftly.“IpromisedIwouldn’t

kissyoubefore.ButIcan’tpromisethatnow.”

“Ididn’taskyouto.”

“Sowe’ll…seeeachother?Forthenextfewdaysandthen…?”

“Sayfarewell,”shesaid,refusingtolethereyesbrightenwithtears.“Iheardthisina

movieonce:I’dratherhavethirtyminutesofwonderfulthanalifetimeofnothingspecial.
That’showIfeelaboutyou.Aboutus.”

“Ah,Bella.Cara,bellisimaBella.Metoo,”hesaid,bendinghisheadsothathislips

foundhers.

Hishandcuppedherjaw,agentlepressurethatkeptherlipsexactlywherehewanted

them.Shefeltthegentleswipeofhistonguealonetheseamoftheirlips,andsheparted
them,welcominghimintohermouth.Asheslidhistongueagainsthers,awarmth,aheat,
pooledinherstomach,thenlower,makinghershiftagainsthim,archingherbacksothat
her breasts pressed against his chest. He groaned softly, holding her tighter, his tongue
swirling around hers as his lips changed angles so that they fit more perfectly together.
Shethreadedherhandsintohishair,revelinginthethicksoftnessagainstherfingersas
shememorizedthetasteandtextureofhim.

AndforBella,who’dknownverylittleloveinherlife,thisfeltlikelove.

Itwasn’t,ofcourse.

It would be impossible to fall in love with someone so quickly—even a handsome

princewhoseemeddeterminedtotreatherlikehisprincessforthisonefleetingweek.

Butitfeltlikelove,andBelladidn’tfightthatfeeling.

“Tomorrow, Bella,” he said urgently, his breath kissing her skin as his lips skimmed

thecolumnofherthroat.“WhencanIseeyoutomorrow?”

Herfingerswerestilltangledinhishair,butnowsheloosenedthem,tryingtothinka

clearthought.“Tomorrowis…”

“Monday,”hesaid,histhroatrumblingwithalow,sexychuckle.

“Monday.Right.”Sheleanedback,lookingupintohiseyes.“Thesalonisclosed,but

itisadeep-cleaningday,andI’mexpectedtobethere.”

“Couldyoufakesick?”

Sheshookherhead.“No.Thatwouldn’tgetmeoutofworking.”

Hisexpressiondarkened.“You’renotallowedtobesick?”

Sheshrugged,knowinghewouldn’tliketheanswer.

“WhataboutTina?Icouldsendheruptostealyouagain.”

“Wouldshedoit?”

“She’smytwinsister.She’ddoanythingforme.”

Bella grinned at him, nodding her head in relief. “Madame won’t be able to say no.

Valentinaisvery…persuasive.”

“WhattimeshallIsendher?”

“Aroundnoon?I’llhelpinthemorning.It’llmakeMadamemoreamenable.”

“And what do you want to do tomorrow, cara Bella?” he asked, nuzzling her nose,

brushingherlipslightlywithhis.

“Idon’tcare,”sheansweredhonestly,reachinguptocuphisbristlycheek,“aslongas

I’mwithyou.”

His eyes darkened, and his expression became serious. “How will I leave you on

Friday?”

“Don’t think about it,” said Bella, pulling his face down to hers, her lips hungry for

anotherkissbeforethecarriagearrivedbackatthehotel.

“ButI’mgreedy,”hemurmured.“Iwon’twanttogiveyouup.”

“Let’snotaskforeternity,”shesaidsoftly,“whenwehavenow.”

Thenshestoppedanyfurtherconversationbypressingherlipsagainsthis,sinkinginto

thewarmthofhisembraceasthesummerstarssmileddownonthem.

Chapter5

WITH HER HAIR TWISTED back into a heavy bun at the base of her neck, Bella

used her wrist to push some flyaway strands from her forehead. She wore heavy rubber
glovesonherhandsbecauseusingthismuchbleachtoscrubfloorsandsinksonceaweek
leftherskinchappedandsore.

Buteverysooftenshe’dtakeapeekattheclockonthewall.Itwasnowelevenfifty,

and with three of the four sinks thoroughly scrubbed, she only had one more to go. She
doused the white porcelain in bleach, letting it saturate the sides for a moment before
she’dstartscrubbing.

“Bellllla!”calledMadameGothel.“Almostfinishedwiththosesinks?”

“Onemoretogo!”sheanswered,sighingasshepickedupherscrubbrush.

Madame had been fast asleep, snoring away, when Bella returned home last night,

whichwasarelief.Shemayhavebeenabletoexplainthedressbysayingshe’dboughtit
onAmazonwithhercreditcard,butwhenthestatementcameattheendofJune,Madame
wouldknowshewaslying.Besides,shewouldhavereaditonBella’sface,wouldn’tshe?
Thatdreamy,starstruckexpressionthatBellaherselfcouldhardlykeepcontained?

Shewantedtomaketheverymostofherfivedays,butthatwouldonlybepossibleif

Madame didn’t find out that Bella was dating a hotel guest. After their conversation
yesterday, Bella knew now, in no uncertain terms, that Madame would have no problem
turningBellaoutofherhome.

“Bella,” said Madame, entering the hair-wash room wearing a fashionable dress, her

haircoifedandnailsperfect,“hurryup,please.Westillhavethestationstodo.Andthe
reception area. You’re pokey today, dearest. All you’ve managed to do is the bathroom,
steamroomandtreatmentroom.”

“Yes,Madrina,”shesaid,sighingsoftlyassherinsedoutthebleach,leavingthehair-

washbasinsparklingclean.

MadameGothelclearedherthroat,andBellalookedupexpectantlyasshegrabbeda

toweltodrythesinks.

“Bella,IwascertainIheardyoucomeinlatelastnight.Almostmidnight,Ibelieve.”

Bellagulped,tryingherbestnottolookguilty.“Iwas—Iwasontheroofforawhile,

Madame.”

“Hmmm,” hummed Madame Gothel, narrowing her eyes just slightly. “I see.” She

cockedherheadtotheside,abrittlesmileonherface.“Alone?”

“Quitealone,”saidBella.

“Aloneontheroofwearinga…”Shedrewoutherquestion,examiningBella’sface,

whichfelthotunderMadame’sscrutiny.“…ChiaraBonilimitededition?”

Bella took a breath, turning back to the sink and drying the remaining droplets

rigorously.“I—IsawitatMaxime’s—”

“SodidI,”saidMadame,“soimaginemysurprisewhenIalsosawithangingonthe

backofyourclosetdoorwhileyouwereshoweringthismorning.”

“Ijustwanted…totryit.”

“Didyoubuyitwithmycard?”

“No, Madrina! I mean, I’m returning it today. I just wanted—I just wanted to try it

on.”

Shefinisheddryingthefoursinks,thenturnedtofacehergodmother,knowingthather

cheekswereprobablyredandhopingthatMadameGothelattributedthiscolortoBella’s
hardwork,notherlies.

Madame gave Bella a long, hard look before shrugging elegantly. “Let me give you

someadvice,Bella,darling:don’tindulgeexpensivetaste.Youhaven’tthemeansforit.
Understand?”

Withareliefshetriedtoconceal,shenodded.“Yes,Madrina.”

“Returnitpromptly.”

“Ofcourse.”

“Anddon’tbesorecklessagain.Thatdresscostsfivehundreddollars.Ifyouwereto

havesoiledit—”

“I’msorry!”Bellabitout.

MadameGothelhadturnedtoleave,butshestoppedandpivoted,hereyebrowshigh

withsurpriseasshelookedbackatBella.“Youdon’tsoundverysorry,Bella.Yousound
almost…indignant.”

“No,Madame,”shesaidthroughclenchedteeth,staringatthefloor,makinghervoice

morepenitent.“Iamsorry.”

“Allthesame,”saidMadame,“whydon’tyougivemeyourcreditcardfortherestof

theweek?”

Bellastraightened,herlipspartinginsurprise.IfMadametookthecardaway,allBella

wouldhavewashermeagertips.

“Please,”shesaid.“Youdon’tneedtotakemycardaway.”

“Yourcard?”

“I’m—I’m very sorry,” she said, her voice genuinely contrite. “I promise I won’t do

anythingsothoughtlessagain.”

“Ofcourseyouwon’t.Becausenothavinganallowancethisweekwillremindyouto

bemorecareful,”saidMadamewithacold,brittlegrin.

Reachingintoherpocketforthechangepursethatheldafewdollarsandhersolitary

creditcard,Bellawithdrewitandhandedittohergodmother.

“It’s for your own good, my dear,” said Madame, pocketing the card. “I’m teaching

youhowtobemoreresponsible.”Shebrightenedup,backingawayfromBella.“I’mnot

allheartless.Takeaquickbreakforlunchbeforeyoufinishtherestofyourwork.”

ThelumpinBella’sthroatwassobigshecoulddolittlemorethannodmiserablyas

hergodmotherleftherinpeace.

This is rock bottom, she thought, her eyes swimming with tears. No money. No

freedom. No love. Fighting back her tears as best she could, Bella took off the rubber
gloves,herheartheavyasshewalkedfromthehair-washstationstowardthefrontofthe
salon.

“YourSereneHiiiiiighness!Weareclosedtoday!Iamsooooo—”

“Stoptalking,”barkedanannoyedvoiceinheavilyaccentedEnglish.

BellapausedinherstepswhensheheardhergodmotherwelcomeValentina.Reaching

up, she swiped at her eyes, an unexpected chuckle making her shoulders shake when
ValentinaessentiallytoldMadametoshutup.

“Gogetzeegirl.Bella.Iamsobored.Ineedher.”

“Oh, your—your grace,” sighed Madame, “I am terribly soooooorry, but she is not

here.”

“Whatdoyoutalkabout?Whereeesshe?”

“B-Bella?Oh,well.Sheis…um,s-sicktoday.Yes.Sosick.Notatallwell.Acough.

Blesshersweet,simpleheart.Herhealthisverydelica—”

“Sheeesnothere?”demandedValentina.“Youareforcertain?”

“N-No.Sheisnothere,”saidMadame,hervoiceslightlylesscertainasshecontinued

lying. “Perhaps the hotel concierge could arrange an amusement for you? I could call
down—”

The part of her that was still good, dutiful Bella, a pet in velvet chains, honestly

consideredstayingsilentaroundthecorner,becausesheknewthatwaswhatwasexpected
of her. But since meeting Nico, her eyes had been opened to the degrading, eroding
awfulness of her life, and though she had no alternate plan devised yet, she certainly
wasn’tgoingtoletMadamekeepherfromwhatsmallhappinessshehad.

“Madame?” she chirped, walking purposely into the reception area. “The sinks are

finishe—oh,PrincessValentina.Buongiorno.”

Valentina took one look at her, then slid her withering, unblinking gaze to Madame

Gothel.“Yousaysheees…sick?”SheturnedtoBella.“Seimalata?”Areyousick?

“No,nonstomale,nonmisonomaisentitameglio,”shesaid,pressingherpalmtoher

T-shirtasthoughsurprisedbythequestion.Idon’tfeelbad.Notatall.

Valentina’sdark,hawkisheyesskatedbacktoMadame,herlipturningupinasneeras

shesteppedtowardtheolderwoman,furywrittenacrossheraristocraticfeatures.“Youlie
tome?”

“Signorina,perfavore—”Miss,please—

“Principessa!”shriekedValentina,stompinghefoot.

“Sí!Sí!S-SuaAltaS-Serenitá!”sputteredMadame.YourSereneHighness!“I—Iamso

—!”

“Stoptalking,”saidValentina,wavingherhanddismissivelyatMadameGothel.“You

are…liar.Don’tspeak.”SheturnedtoBella.“Pranziconme?”Havelunchwithme?

“Iwouldloveto,”saidBella,flickingaglanceatherboss.“ButIhavetowork.”

“Bellais…myhelper,yourhighness,andIdon’tknowifIcanspare—”

Valentina’s eyes blazed as she advanced on Madame, issuing a scathing tirade in

Italian:“Seipazzo?Chiseitu?Unbugiardo!Diròaimieiamicidinonvenire—”Areyou
crazy?Whoareyou?Aliar!I’mgoingtotellallmyfriendsnottocometothis—

“Vabene!Vabene!Perpiacere,principessa!”exclaimedMadameGothel,raisingher

handspalmsupinsupplication.“Shecango.Shecango.Ofcourse.Iwillfindsomeone
elseto…toclean…”MadameturnedtoBella,herexpressionamixtureoffrustratedand
furious.“Go,Bella!Whyareyoustandingthere?”

“Whateveryousay,Madrina,”saidBella,offeringherguardianasyrupy-sweetsmile

asshefollowedValentinaintotheelevator.

Asthechromedoorsclosed,Valentinapressedthebuttonforthenineteenthfloorand

wrinkledhernose.“Yousmelllikea…washerwoman.”

“Iwascleaning.”

“You can borrow my clothes to meet Nico,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Your

godmotheris…unastrega.”…awitch.

“Sí,”agreedBella,thoughithurtheralittletoadmitit.

For several years, Madame Gothel had been Bella’s only mother figure. Only now,

when she could see Madame’s true colors, did she realize that there wasn’t a maternal
boneinhergodmother’sbody.Shewasselfishandself-centered,ashamelessuser.

Theelevatordoorsopened,andValentinaledthewaydownthehallway,swipingher

keycardatthedoorreaderandprecedingBellaintothesuite.SheturnedtofaceBellaonce
thedoorhadclosed.

“Hecaresforyou,”shesaid.

Bellagulped.“Icareforhim.”

“Youknow—youknowheplanstomarrylaPrincipessaElena?”

“Yes.”

“Iteesamistake,”saidValentina,placingherhandoverherflatstomach.“Ihaveno

choice.Hedoes.”

Bella’s eyes flicked to Valentina’s hand. “You are marrying for love…even if it

doesn’tfeellikeit.”

Shenodded.“StevenTrainoreesnotabadman.Heeesagayman.Sowewillmarry

for a while, then we will divorce. But my child will be…como si dice…ah! Legittimo.
CarinaorGiuseppeTrainor.Eesnotsobad.”

“Canyoubehappy?”askedBella.

“For now? Sí. Il romanza rosa will come later in life for me,” said Valentina

pragmatically.“Comenow.Andiamo.”

Bella nodded, following Valentina into her bedroom. The princess opened the closet

doorsandwithdrewastunningwhite-lacesundress,handingittoBella.“Maybealeettle
big.Nicowon’tcare.”

“Thankyou,”saidBella,turningherbacktotheprincessasshetookoffhersoiledT-

shirtandjeans.

“Understand,Bella:Nicoeesmybrother,mytwin,andtwins,wehaveaspecialbond,

yes?”

Bellanodded.“FromwhatIunderstand.”

“Hedoesn’tloveElena.Hewon’tloveher.Hehasno—comosidice—uh,passionfor

theesgirl.Buthehaspassionforyou.”

“Will you zip me?” asked Bella, briefly making eye contact with Valentina over her

shoulder.“Nicoisdoingwhathethinksisrightforyourfamily.”

Valentina zipped up the dress, placed her hands on Bella’s shoulders, and turned her

aroundsothewomenwerefacingeachother.“Buteeteeswrongforhisheart.”

Feeling helpless, Bella looked up into eyes so similar to Nico’s, it made her heart

pinch. But what could she do? She’d only known the prince for a handful of days. She
wasn’thisgirlfriend.Shewasbarelyhisfriend.Andyet…shefeltthingswithNico,and
forNico,thatshe’dneverfeltbeforeinherlife.AndthethoughtofhimmarryingPrincess
Elenawaslikeaknifethroughherheart.

SuddenlyValentinabrightened.“Youlookokaynow.”Shewithdrewacardfromthe

back pocket of her dark skinny jeans and handed it to Bella. “He ees waiting for you,
Bella.Andiamo.”

NICOHADRECEIVEDAtextfromhissisterfiveminutesagosayingthatBellawas

in a taxi on her way to meet him. And if he’d had any doubt about what the girl from
Ticino was starting to mean to him, it was abundantly clear by the way his heart took
flightreadingTina’swords.

StandingonWestStreet,atthecornerofVesey,hecouldn’twaittointroduceBellato

hernextNewYorkadventure:lunchatOne,onthe101

floor of the Freedom Tower at

OneWorldObservatory.NotonlywastheviewoneofthebestinNewYork,butthey’d
haveapeekattheStatueofLibertyandEllisIslandbeforeboardingaferryat3:00p.m.to
visitthegatewaytoAmericainperson.Hecouldn’tthinkofamoreappropriatewayfor
two visitors on U.S. soil to spend the day, and besides, as Bella’s self-appointed
Manhattantourguide,itwashisdutytobesureshesawasmanyofthesightsashecould
fitinbyFriday.

Friday,hethoughtwithasigh.

His mother, who was back at home in Italy packing for her trip to New York, had

calledhimtoday.Nico’sfatherhadspokentoElena’sfather,PrincePhillipofGreeceand
Denmark,onthephonethismorning,reconfirminghispermissionforNicotoproposeto
Elena.

“Nico!” said his mother, Her Serene Highness Caterina De’Medici, breathless with

excitement,“We’reallsoexcited!”

“Vero?”he’dmuttered.Isthatright?

“Sí!”hismotherhadcrowed.“ElenaiscomingstraighttoNewYorkfromEthiopia,

where she’s…she’s…well, honestly, darling, I have no idea what she’s doing there, but
she’s coming directly to Manhattan from Africa, so Phillip won’t have much time to
discusstheproposalwithherinadvance.Perhapsthat’sforthebest.Youhavewhatyou
need,Nico:hispermissiontoaskher.”

He’d sighed, trying to picture himself approaching the perennially-tanned, tall,

muscular princess and asking her if she was interested in a royal union. There was no
sense in trying to make it romantic. It wasn’t. It was—for all intents and purposes—an
arrangedmarriagebetweentworoyalfamilies.

Hewassilentforsolong,hismotherspokeagain,hervoicesofterthistime:“She’sa

goodperson,Elena.Verykind.Veryrich.”

Not-so-subtle reminders that he should make the best of things, since the De’Medici

clancouldcertainlyuseaninfusionofwealth.

“Iknow,Mother,”hesaid.“IalwayslikedElena.”

“Lovecangrowfromlike,”saidhismother.“Andwithtime.”

Butcanpassion?wonderedNico,alreadyknowingtheanswerinhisheart.

Yes, love—true affection—could grow with time, of course, But attraction—and

passion, for that matter—wasn’t a quality that could reliably develop. You were either
attractedtosomeone,oryouweren’t.Andifyouweren’t,noamountoftryingcouldforce
your heart to lift when you saw someone. And if you were, no amount of trying could
persuadeyourheartnottoliftwhenyoudid.

“Mother,I’vesomuchtodo,”hesaid,feelinguncomfortablediscussingthematterany

further.“You’llforgiveme?”

“Ofcourse,darling!SeeyouonFriday!AndkeepTinainline,perDio!We’vealmost

savedherfromdisaster!”

Andyou,mother,andyourgreediness.

“Safetravels.”

“Ciao,Nico.”

“Ciao,madremia.”

Now,ashescannedthestreetforunlitcabs,hefelt—yetagain—thesamediscomfort

he’dfelttalkingtohismother.Wasitpossiblehewasmakingamistake?Wasitpossible
thatbydutifullymarryingwellforthesakeofhisfamily,thathe’dbegivinguphischance

forpassion?Fortruelove?Fortruehappiness?

Hefrownedatthenotion.

Lastweek,beforehe’dseteyesonBella,itwassomethingthathadn’treallyoccurred

tohim.He’dbeencarefullyconditionedhisentirelifetoputfamilyanddutyfirst,above
allelse.Butnow?Havingmetsomeonespecialwholitafireoflongingwithinhim,itwas
impossiblenottowonder.

Acabpulleduptothecurb,andheglimpsedhersmilingfacethroughtheopenback

windowevenbeforethecabstopped.Asheopenedthedoorandhandedthedrivertwenty
dollars, all thoughts about Elena were whisked away as the object of his most fervent
passionwassuddenlyinhisarmsagain.

“Buongiorno,Bella,”hesaid,hisvoicehusky,hisarmsaroundherstrongandfamiliar.

“Ciao, Nico,” she said, closing her eyes and inhaling the wonderful smell of Acqua

Nobileandwarmcotton.

Hedrewawayfromherjustlongenoughtoplaceafingerunderherchinandtipher

headback.Shesmiledupathimbutkepthereyesclosedashissoftlipslandedonhers,
coaxingthemapart.Hekissedhergently,holdinghertightlyinhisarms,andshewound
hers around his neck, brushing the bristles on the back of his neck with her fingers and
sighingwithpleasure.

“Iwon’tbeabletostopifIkissyouanymore,”hesighedbyherear.“Plus,we’rein

public.”

She finally opened her eyes, squinting as she looked up at him. “Then what do you

suggest?”

He cocked his head to the side and shrugged in a gesture that was so macho Italian,

shealmostgiggled.

“WhatIwantandwhat’sallowedaretwodifferentthings,miacara.”

“Dowehaverulesaboutwhat’sallowed?”sheaskedashereleasedher,exchangingan

embraceforhand-holdingashepulledherintothebuilding.

“Weshould,”hesaid.

“Why?”

“BecauseIcan’tmakeyouanypromises.”

“Ihaven’taskedforany,”shesaid,steppingontheescalatorinfrontofhim.

“Okay…becauseI’magentleman.Andyou’re…seiingenuo.”Naïve.

Hmm.Sheaskedoverhershoulder,“Howdoyouknowthat?”

He leaned closer, because she felt his breath on her throat as he whispered, “I just

know,mitesoro.”

Mydarling.

Herbreathcaughtandherheartsqueezedwiththesoft,sensualsoundofhislipsnear

herear.Astheescalatorended,shewassodistracted,shewouldhaveslippedwereitnot
forhishandunderherelbow.

“Careful,cara,”hesaid,laughterplaininhisvoice.

“Maybeyoushouldbecareful,”sheadvisedtartly,pullingherarmaway.“Imaynotbe

asinnocentasyouthink.”

“Believeme,miacara,”hesaid,grinningather,“therearemomentsIwishthatwas

thecase.”Hiseyes,softandtender,scannedhers.“Butit’snot,isit?”

Shepursedherlips,refusingtoanswer,becausereallyandtruly,whatgrownwoman

wantstobeoutedasavirginwhenshe’sonahotdatewithahandsomeprince?

Her silence answered his questions, and Nico chuckled softly beside her as he gave

theirticketstoanattendant,andtheyboardedwhatappearedtobeaglasselevator.Butas
the doors closed and they started rising, she realized that the elevator was covered with
moviescreensthatwereshowingthedevelopmentofManhattanIslandfromthe1500sto
today.ShewatchedasIndiandwellingsmagicallyturnedintocolonialbuildings,andthen
streetsappearedandsuddenlyskyscrapers.There’sabridgebeingbuilt!There’stheStatue
ofLiberty!Andsoon—waytoosoon!—thedoorsopenedatthe102

-floorobservatory.

Herstomachwasfullofbutterflies.

“Wasn’tthatamazing?”

Henodded.“Itwas!I’veneverseenanythinglikeit!”

She looked ahead at the windows, showcasing a clear, dramatic 360-degree view of

Manhattanbeforeandbeneaththem.“Nico!Look!”

Shedraggedhimovertothewindows,andtheystoodsidebyside,admiringtheview

oftheHudsonRiverandNewYorkHarbor.

“We’reontopoftheworld,”shebreathed.

“Do you remember what happened here in 2001?” he asked, his eyes tracking an

airplaneinthedistance.

Shegulped.“Ofcourse.Iwasonlysevenyearsold,butIremembermymothercrying

forthepeoplekilledhere.”

Henodded.“Myparentshadfriendswhodied.”

“Itwasaterriblething,”shesaid,leaningbackagainsthim,“forthewholeworld.”

From behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her

shoulder,andtheystoodlikethatforafewminutes,lookingatthegloriousview,quietbut
for their breathing, which quickly synchronized—in and out, in and out—in long,
comfortabledrawsofair.

“Areyouhungry?”heaskedher.

“Always,”shesaid,turningslightlytogrinathim.

Hekissedherquickly.“Thenlet’sgohavelunch!Ourcruiseleavesinninetyminutes.”

They spoke of Italy and Switzerland over lunch, gleefully swapping stories of their

favoritechildhoodmemories,andallthewhileBellafeltherselffallingforhim—deeper
and more certainly every second. He was self-deprecating and smart, gallant and
unbelievably gorgeous, and though she knew she was spoiling things for herself by
anticipating their farewell, she couldn’t totally ignore the fact that today was Monday,
whichmeantthattheyonlyhadfourdayslefttogether.Therewasnogettingoutofwork
tomorrow. Madame had made it clear time and again—if Bella dated a hotel guest, she
wouldbethrownout.Shecouldn’taffordtoraiseMadame’ssuspicions.

As he stood behind her on the windy boat deck, with tendrils of her hair surely

whippinghiminthenose,whatwashethinking?Washebeginningtofeeldesperate,as
shewas,formoretime?

Butthatwasn’tthedeal,wasit?

They’dagreed:aweek.

Aweekandnomore.

NICO SENSED A SADNESS in Bella as they toured the Statue of Liberty, then got

backontheboatfortheirtransfertoEllisIsland.She’dbecomemoresubduedastheday
woreon,andperhapshewasimaginingit,butitseemedlikehersmilesweremoreforced,
hersighsdeeper.

“Iseverythingokay?”hefinallyasked,takingherhandastheydisembarked,stepping

ontoasidewalkthatledtotheEllisIslandvisitorcenter.

“I’mafraidyouwererightaboutme,”shesaid.Herhairwasbackinalongbraid,but

flyaway hairs had escaped around her face, and she pushed one behind her ear. “I am
naïve.”

“Iwasonlyteasing,”hesaid.“Ilovethataboutyou—howfreshandhonestyouare.I

didn’tmeantomakeyoufeelbad.”

“IthoughtIcoulddothis,”shecontinued.“Beyour—your…Idon’tknow—yoursort-

ofragazzaforaweek,”shesaid,usingthewordforgirlfriend.“ButnowIwonder…”

Hischesttightened.“What?Whatdoyouwonder?”

Shesighed.“Rememberlastnight?WhenIsaidthatweshouldn’tgetgreedyformore

whenwehavenow?”

“Mm-hm.”

“You’renottheonlyonefeelinggreedynow,”sheconfessed.

“Wanttostop?”heasked,holdinghisbreath.

“Youmean…stopseeingyou?”sheasked.

“Yeah.Wecan,uh…”Hegesturedtotheboat.“Wecangetbackontheboat.I’lltake

youhome.Wecan…”

Sheshookherhead,entwiningherfingersthroughhisandsqueezing.“No.Wecan’t.”

“Idon’twantyoutobesad.”

“But sad’s part of it,” she said, facing him and tenderly cupping his cheek, “isn’t it?

Fallingforsomeoneisn’tsafe.It’s…exhilaratingandwonderful.Andyes,I’dratherhave
it than not. But you must allow me these moments of sadness. Of knowing that what I
havenowissoperfectyetsofinite.”

“Iwishtherewasanotherway,butitseems…”Heclenchedhisjaw.“Myparentshave

alreadyspokentoElena’sparents.Theyhaveofferedtheunion.It’sasgoodasdone.”

“Isee,”saidBellasoftly,blinkinghereyesquicklybeforelookingdownattheirshoes.

Aboltofsomethingmiserableslammedthroughhischestashewatchedherbowher

head,andsuddenlyhecouldn’tputherthroughthisanymore.

“I’mtakingyoubacktothehotel,”hesaid.“I’maselfishbastardforlettingthisgoas

farasit—”

But she was up on tiptoes, her lips pressing insistently against his as her breasts

brushedhischest.Andhewashelplesstoresisther,pullingherintohisarms,againsthis
body, with a crushing embrace, hating himself and loving her. Loving her. Wait. Loving
her? No. No, that’s not right, his brain insisted before a fog of lust replaced rational
thought,thesoftslideofhertongueagainsthischasingalllogicalideasoutofhishead.
He could feel the thrumming of her heart through the white sundress she wore, feel her
shudder with need, bowing her back toward him in natural, unpracticed sensuality, her
bodywantingmoreofhis,eventhoughhewasquitecertainshe’dnevermadelovebefore.

Iwanttobeyourfirst,hethoughtsuddenly.Iwanttobethefirstmantohaveyou.

Hisbodyreactedinstantly,hiscockstiffeningbetweenthem,pressingagainstherbelly

asheheldhertight.

Itwasn’tright,buthecouldn’thelpit.He’dneverwantedanyonethewayhewanted

her.

“A-hem,”grumbledavoicefrombehindthem,andBellajerkedherheadback.“Don’t

mindkidsnecking,butyoutwomaywanttogetaroom.”

Nicolookedoverhisshoulderatawhite-hairedparkattendant.“Sorry.”

“Noharmdone.Whydon’tyougolookatthemuseum,huh?Onlyhaveanhouruntil

closing.”

Niconodded,lookingdownatBella’sface.Atherbee-stunglipsandheavyeyes.She

wassolovely,sotrusting.Nomatterwhat,hepromised,hewouldn’ttakeherinnocence.
Notifhecouldn’tofferheranythingmorethanasweetsummerfling.

“ShallItakeyouback?”

“No,”shesaid,musteringasmileandliftingherchin.“Iwantasmuchtimewithyou

asIcanhave.”

“Metoo,”hesaid,sighinginrelief.

“ButImightgetsad,”shesaid,shrugging.

“Metoo,”hesaidagain,tuckingatendriloflongblackhairbehindherear.“CanIsee

youtomorrow?”

She nodded. “But no sending Valentina. Madame’s going to be on the warpath after

today.Icanmeetyouateight.Afterwork.”

It frustrated him that they’d lose a whole day, but he couldn’t jeopardize her

relationshipwithhergodmother.“Fine.Meetmeontheroof?”

Shenodded,herfacetransformedbyahugesmile.“Myfavoriteplace.”

“You’re my favorite place, Bella Capelli.” He leaned down and kissed her gently.

“Now,nomore,uh,necking.We’vegotamuseumtosee.”

Chapter6

EVERYQUIETMINUTEonTuesdayfeltlikeanhourasBellakeptglancingatthe

clock,waiting,waiting,waitingforthedaytoend.

Luckily,mostofthedaywasactuallyverybusy.

At ten o’clock, she saw ancient New York socialite Mrs. Madeline Winters, who

neededawash,blow-dry,androllersetinherwhitehair.

Atoneo’clock,frequenthotelguestandpopsingerSamaraSilvestryrequiredatouch-

uponherombréwithJoaquin,followedbyawashandbraidedupdowithBella.

Andatfourthirty,twinsistersandheiressesVeronicaandVictoriaVanDusselcamein

foridenticalupdos,whichtookagoodbitoftime,becausethetwelve-year-oldsinsisted
thatnoonebeabletotellthemapart,whichessentiallymeantthatnotawispofhaircould
beoutofplace.

Bysixo’clock,Bellawastired,sittingatthereceptiondesk,answeringmessages,and

bookingappointments,butasthestaffbidtheirgood-byesatseven,herheart,andmood,
lifted. Madame Gothel had shot Bella several dirty looks but otherwise avoided her for
mostoftheday.

“Bella,Ineedtospeakwithyou,”saidMadame,stoppingbythereceptiondesk,her

facepinched.“Wesimplycannotallowwhathappenedyesterdaytohappenagain.”

“Madame?”

“The Princess Valentina has no respect for your position here, and I fear you

encourageherbehavior.I’mafraidifyouacceptherinvitationagainandskipoutofwork
likeitdoesn’tmattertoyou,Iwillhavenochoicebuttofireyou.”

“Fireme?”

“Fromyourpositionhere.”

Shekeptanindignantscofftoherself.“ButIdon’tevenmakeasalary,Madame.”

“Yourroomandboardisyoursalary,Bella.”

Bella stared at her godmother in shock. “You mean that if the princess asks me to

lunchagainandIgowithher,youwillforcemeoutonthestreet?”

“That’sanawfullydirewaytolookatit.”

“HowelsecanIlookatit?”

“Asawaytopolitelyassertyourself,dearest,”shesaid,grinningatBella,thoughthe

gesture didn’t crinkle her eyes with any affection. “As an opportunity to refuse the
princesswhilestillpreservingtherelationship.”

“But,Madame,youaretheonewhotoldmetogo.”

“Yes.Butnexttime,Iwon’tbehere.IfIseehercoming,Iwillexcusemyselfandlet

youmanageit.”

“AndI’mmeanttosaynotoher?”

“Youare.Politely,ofcourse,sosheisn’toffended.”

“You’vemether!”insistedBella.“She’snotthetypeofwomanyousaynoto.”

Madamesteeledhershouldersandliftedherchin.“NoramI.”

Bella gulped, finally understanding that had she continued on as Madame’s grateful

workhorse indefinitely, things may have stayed amicable between them. But by
questioning her godmother and winning Valentina’s favor, she had upset the apple cart,
andthingswouldnevergobacktothewaytheywere.

“I’msogladwechatted,”saidMadame.“I’mgoingtohaveanice,longbath.Clean

upinhere,andbequietwhenyoucomehomejustincaseI’malreadyasleep.”Sheturned
awayandheadedfortheglassdoors.

“Whydidyoutakemein?”Bellaaskedherback.“Youdon’twantmehere.I’mnot

sureyoueverdid.”

Madame turned to look at Bella, cocking her head to the side as she stared at her

young ward. “Your mother…Karin…looked more German than Italian. Blonde. Blue-
eyed.Butyourfather…”Shepaused,ahintofrealemotiontrackingacrossherface,her
eyesbrieflyshutteringinpainbeforeopeningagain.“Giorgiowasdarklikeyou.Jet-black
hair.Oliveskin.Eyesthatcouldreachintoyourvery…”Hervoicefadedaway,andshe
snapped her lips shut, clenching her jaw. Finally, she said, “To be frank, I had no idea
you’dlooksomuchlikehim.”

Bella was almost trembling, trying to follow all the spoken—and unspoken—things

Madamewassaying.“Why—whydoesitmatterthatIlooklikemyfather?”

Madame’seyesnarrowed.“Itdoesn’t.Stopaskingmethesestupidquestions.”

Jerking around, she pushed through the glass doors and didn’t turn to look at Bella

againasshewaitedfortheelevatortoarrive.

IttookBellaafullminutetomovefromwhereshestoodfrozenbehindthereception

desk.

What in the world did it mean? Had Madame Gothel—Helga—had feelings for her

father? Bella searched her mind, but she could never remember her godmother visiting
theminBellinzona.Thoughshedidrecallaframedphotoonthelittlepiano—threeyoung
teenagers,arminarm:beautiful,blondeKarin,whosmiledatthecamera;tall,handsome,
dark-haired Giorgio in the middle, who stared at Karin; and plainer Helga, who faced
forwardbutdidn’tsmileatall.

HadHelgabeeninlovewithGiorgio?AndhadhebeensofirmlyinlovewithKarin

thathehadn’tnoticed?Hadhermotherknown?

Bellathoughtbacktothepictureofthethreeteenagers.

No,shedecided.Hermotherhadn’tknownofHelga’sfeelings.Neither,sheguessed,

hadherfather.

When Bella arrived in the United States, had Helga Gothel hoped against hope that

Bella would resemble her mother, Karin? Blonde and blue-eyed? Instead, she’d stepped
offtheplane,thespittingimageandsameageastheteenagedboyinthepicture.Aboy
whohadbrokenherheart.

BellafeltawaveofsadnessforMadameGothel,who’dmarriedamanformoneyin

herthirtiesandlikelyneverknowntrue,requitedlove.Didithurteverytimeshelookedat
Bella?DiditachetorememberthewayGiorgiolookedatKarin?

Walking in a daze to the supply closet, Bella took out the Windex and spritzed the

counter,wipingitdistractedly.

“L’amoreèuncampodibattaglia,”shesaidsoftlyassherolleduphersleevestotidy

therestofthesalonbeforeracinguptotherooftoseeherforbiddenprince.

Loveisabattlefield.

NICOHADTHOUGHTOFeverything:asoftblanket,votivecandles,abasketfullof

gourmetItaliantreatsthatthehotelconciergehadtrackeddowninLittleItaly,plusplates,
napkins,utensils,wineglasses,andabottleofTicinoMerlotthathadn’tbeeneasytofind.
He’dthoughtaboutaskingtheconciergetoropewhitelightsaroundtheroofbutrecalled
Bella’s warning that they weren’t actually permitted up there, so he made do with the
moon,stars,andcandlelight,whichcastawarmglowontotheblanket.Itwasastunning
sight—theircozypicnicwiththelightsofManhattanbeyond.

Butitallpaledincomparisontoher.

ItwasthelookonBella’sfacewhenshecamearoundthecornerandfoundhimthathe

wouldalwaysremember.

Shewaswearingthesamedenimskirtshe’dbeenwearinglastFridaynightwhenhe’d

firstmether,thistimewithawhiteT-shirtthataccentuatedhersmall,roundbreastsand
tinywaist.Herhair,heldbackwithasimpleblackhairband,felldownherback,tumbling
ingloriouswavespastherhips.Andonherfeetsheworetinyblackshoesthatlookeda
littlelikeballetslippers.

Assherantohim,hereyessparklingwithhappiness,heopenedhisarmswideforher,

catchingheragainsthischestandurgentlyfindingherlipswithhis.Hewoundhisarms
around her slight body, holding her close, feeling the panting breaths that forced her
breastsagainsthischest.Shemoanedintohismouth,andheswallowedtheintoxicating
sound,committingittomemorysothatoncehewasmarriedandhisbridewasfarfrom
home in Africa, he could recall the sweet murmurs of the lovely girl he’d met in
Manhattan.

“Merda,” he cursed softly, leaning away from her, knowing that such a memory

shouldn’tbecapturedandheldforsuchpurposes.Hehadn’tevenproposedtoElenayet,
andhewasalreadyplanningwaystocheatonherwithhismindandhisheart.

“What?”askedBella,hersmilegloriousinherupturnedface.

“Nothing,cara,”hesaid,smilingbackather.“You.Justyou.Youmakemelosemy

mind.”

Shearchedherback,teasinghimalittlebyrubbingagainsthim.“Todaywassolong.”

“Formetoo.”

“Whatdidyoudo?”sheasked.

“Thoughtofyou.Plannedapicnic.Thoughtofyousomemore.”

Shelookedaroundhisarmatthepiccolafestahe’dlaidoutontheblanketandgasped.

“IsthataRossodellaPianaMerlot?”

Henodded,smilingatherdelight.“Itis.”

“IknowtheVitivinicolaSanMateo,”sheexclaimed,pushingoutofhisarmstokneel

downontheblanketandreachlovinglyfortheopen,breathingbottle.“It’sinCagiallo!”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stared down at her, his heart throbbing with

affectionforher.

“They have a lovely little tasting room,” she continued. “And…and a white dog.

NamedFlo.”

“Flo?”

Hergrindidn’twaverasshelookedupathimandnodded.“Sí.Myparentsknewthe

owners.Beforethey…”

“Died,”hesaidgently.

“Yes,”shesaid,cockingherheadtotheside.“Youknow,IthinkIfiguredsomething

outtonight.”

He kicked off his flip-flops and lowered his body to the blanket as she poured two

glassesofwineforthem.Lyingonhisside,helookedupather.“What?”

“Ithinkmymadrinawasinlovewithmyfather.”

Nico’sbrowfurrowed.“Youmeanhecheatedonyourmother?”

Bellalookedupfromherwork.“No!Never!”

“Then…?”

“Theywerechildhoodfriends,buttwogirlsandoneboy…youcanimaginehowmuch

itmusthavehurtherthathelovedmymother.Shecameherewhenshewaseighteen,just
after my father proposed. I think—I mean, I wonder if she left, partially, because it was
hard to see her best friend marry the man she loved.” She handed Nico a glass of wine.
“Here.Tryit.”

Nicoswirledthewinearoundtheglassbeforetakingasmallsip.Itwasrichandfull-

bodied,butnottoooverbearing.“It’sgood.”

“It’s a Carminoir grape,” said Bella after taking a sip. She sighed with pleasure.

“Thankyouforthis.”

“For you, Bella cara? Anything.” He reached for a piece of cured meat, popping it

betweenhislips.“Soyouthinkyourmadrinawasinlovewithyourfather?”

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I think that’s why she treats me so badly…because I

remindherofhim—ofthemanwhodidn’tloveherback.”

Nicoswallowedthesalumiandreachedforasmallwedgeofcheese.“Itdoesn’tmake

herbehaviorokay.”

“But it does explain it,” said Bella, placing her wineglass on the paved roof, then

repositioning herself so she was lying on her back, looking up at the stars. “And there’s
comfort in understanding. I didn’t do anything wrong. It isn’t me. It’s her…or him, I
guess.”

Nicoshiftedalittleclosertoher,staringatherprofile.“Didyouthinkitwasyou?”

Sheturnedhernecktocatchhiseyes.“Ofcourse.”

Hetookanothersipofwine,thenplacedhisglassontopoftheclosedbasket,leaning

closertoher.“Youthoughtyoudidsomethingwrong?”

“Ithought,perhaps,thatIwasn’tverylikeable.”

“Bella,”hebreathed,unabletobearherwords.Helayonhisbackbesideher,staring

intohereyes.“Youareanangel.Youaresweetandkind,gentleandhonest.Howcould
youeverthinkyouwereunlikeable?”

Withasmallsmileonherlovelyface,shestaredathimforwhatfeltlikealong,long

timebeforewhispering,“Nico.”

“Cosa,miacara?”What,mylove?

“Baciami,”shemurmured.Kissme.

Heheldhisbreathashiseyesflickedtohersweetpinklips.Reachingouttoresthis

handonherhipandpullhertohim,hisnosenuzzledhersgently,andheheardhergasp.
Just a swift intake of breath that stole the last of his self-control. His lips sought and
capturedhersasshereacheduptocuphisjaw.Henippedatherlips,testingthesoftness
ofthetopbetweenhis,andthenthebottom,inhalingthemixoffragrancesthatwasBella
after a day around shampoos and sprays. She was still on her back, and Nico changed
positionslightly,slantinghisbodyoverhers,hischestrestinglightlyonhers,hiselbows
bracketingherhead.

Shepulledhisheaddowntohers,andheswepthistongueintohermouth,groaning

softlyasshecurledherfingernailsintohisscalpandexhaledasexywhimper.Spreading
herlegswithhisknee,henestledbetweenthem,stillkissingher,slidinghispalmunder
herT-shirt,beneathherbra,tocoverthesoftfullnessofherbreast.

As she dragged in a ragged breath, he skimmed his lips to her throat, rubbing her

nipplewithhisthumbashelickedandkissedthesoftskinofherneck.Shetiltedherhead
back,andheglancedupatherface—eyesclosed,pillowedlipsparted—andalltheblood
inhisbodyracedtohiscock,whichhardenedtosteel.Hethrustlightlyagainstherashis
lipsslidtoherchest.Ashepulledhishandfromherbreast,hepushedherbraandT-shirt
tothesideandtookthehardbudofhernipplebetweenhislips.

Archingherback,Bellamoanedsoftlyashesuckedonherflesh,herbreathshallow

and ragged as he slid his lips across her chest and bared her other breast to his kiss.

Rollingonenipplegentlybetweenhisfingers,helavedtheotherwithhistongue,listening
tothesoundsofhermoansandwhimpers,revelingintheinstinctualwayherhipsroseto
meethisagainandagaininarockingrhythmoftheirownmaking.

“Bella,”hewhispered,blowingsoftlyontheslicknubofdistendedflesh.

“Hmmm?”shemurmured.

“I care about you,” he said, using the bare remnants of his self-control to cover her

beautifulbreastswithherbra,thensmoothingherT-shirtbackoverthesatinycups.“I’ve
never wanted a woman as badly as I want you. But…” He braced himself over her,
lookingdownather,staringintohereyes.“Youmeansomethingtome.Somethingreal.”

“Nico,”shemurmured,hervoicethickwithneedassheslidherhandsfromhishairto

his cheeks and pulled his lips down to hers. She kissed him passionately, fiercely, their
teethclashingandtonguesdancingashelethisweightfallagainsther,plunginghishands
intohermaneofhairandholdingon.

He pushed against her, his throbbing cock sliding into the valley of her legs through

his pants and her skirt, hard as stone and aching for more. More that he couldn’t have.
Morethatheshouldn’thave.

Heleanedawayfromher,panting,staringdownatherinagony,partofhimwishing

that he was the kind of man who would take what he wanted and deal with the
consequenceslater.Buthewasn’tthatman.AndBella,farlessexperiencedthanmostof
thewomenhe’dbeenwith,wasn’tawomantobeusedandleftbehind.

Heaving himself to the side, he rolled off of her onto his back, staring up at the

pinkish-bluesky,litupbythemillionsofcitylightsbelow.Hischestroseswiftlyupand
down as his lungs inflated and compressed, and he ran a hand over his brow, sighing
becauseofthethingshewanted,becauseofthethingshewouldn’tlethimselfhave.

Twistinghisneck,helookedoverathertofindhertonguewettingherlips,onearm

thrown over her eyes. Ribbons of heat, of yearning, emanated from her body like
electricity.Hefeltthem.Herecognizedthembecausetheyunfurledfromhistoo.

“Wecan’t,”hesaidsoftly.

“Iwantitsobadlytoo,”shemurmured,asthoughshecouldfeelhiseyesonher.

“ButIwouldbeyourfirst,”hesaid,leaninguponhissidetofaceher.

“Yes.”

“Andthenwewouldsaygood-bye.”

Sheclenchedherjawandswallowed.“Yes.”

“Ican’tdothattoyou,cara.”

Shemovedherarm,lookingupathimwithsparklingeyes.Shewasn’tcrying,which

madehimfeelrelieved,buttherewassuchsadnessinherexpressionthatitwasn’tmuch
comfort.

“My madrina…how she must have suffered wanting what she couldn’t have.

Watchingherbestfriendfallinloveandgetengaged.Knowingthattheboysheloved—

themansheloved—wouldneverloveherthewayshewantedhimto.”

“Ithardenedher,”saidNico,sittingupandgrabbinghiswineglass.“Idon’twantthe

sameforyou.”

Bella folded her hands on her stomach, just under her breasts, still staring up at the

sky.

“Wedon’thaveto…makelove,”shesaidfinally,lookingoverathimwithahopeful

expression.Aslight,shysmilecurledherlips,andherdarkeyestwinkled.“Butthatstill
leavesalot,doesn’tit?”

Hesmiledatherbecausehecouldn’thelpit.“Itdoes.”

“Soliedownbesideme,handsomeprince,”shesighed,“andkissmesomemore.”

THEY HAD STAYED ON the roof together until almost midnight, making out,

finishingthebottleofwine,andsamplingtheItaliantreats.Nicohadkissedandcaressed
herbreastsagain,andBellahaddelightedinthewickedfeelingofhersensitiveskinbared
tothecoolnightair.Shehadfeltthatpartofhim—thatmanlypartofhimthatshe’dnever
seenortouchedbefore—grindingagainsther,andithadmadeherfeelweakandwanton,
desperateforthingsthatwouldbreakherheartlater.

Shehadagreedtoseehimagaintonight—shehadanaccountingclassatCityCollege

fromsixuntileight,butNicosaidhe’dpickherupafterclassandtakeherouttodinner.

As she leaned her cheek against her palm, sitting at the reception desk, she tried to

mustersomegratitudeforthewayhe’dstoppedthemfromgoinganyfurther,butitwas
hard,soveryhard,tofeelgratefulwhenshewantedsomuchmorethanshecouldhave.

Lookingup,shesawGregstepofftheelevatorandthroughtheglassdoorsatthesame

timeMadameGothelsweptintothereceptionarea.

“Formeeeeee,Gregory?”sheasked,gesturingtothebouquetofredrosesheheldin

hisarms.

“Uh,no,ma’am.ForBella,actually.”

Madame’seyesshottoBella,whowipedtheburstingsmileoffherfaceandtriedto

lookshockedinstead.“What?”

“For, uh…for Bella. They were dropped off at the reception desk by the Princess

Valentina.”

“Oh,” said Bella, flicking a glance at her godmother, whose eyebrows were bunched

togetherinconfusionandanger.

“TheprincesssentflowersforBella?”

“She dropped them off with me. Yes, ma’am.” Greg nodded at each of them,

depositingtheenormousbouquetonthereceptiondeskandthenturningandheadingback
towardtheelevator.

MadameGothel’seyeslingeredontherosesforalongmomentbeforesheraisedher

glaretoBella.“Whyistheprincesssendingyouroses,Bella?”

“Ihavenoidea.Perhapsthere’sacardthatexplains?”

Madam took the bouquet of flowers before Bella could collect them and inspected

themforacard.“No.None.”

Bellagulpednervously.“Maybethey’retothankmeforhavinglunchwithher?”

Withnarrowedeyes,Madameslowlyplacedtheflowersbackonthecounter.“Iamnot

afool,BellaCapelli.Playmeforone,andyouwilllose.”

“I’mnotplayinggames,”shesaid.

“I heard you come in at midnight last night. Were you with the princess?” Madame

leanedclosertoBella.“Therumoraroundthehotelisthattheprincess’sweddingtothe
Trainorbillionaireisasham.Perhapsshe’snotinterestedinhim.Ormenatall,forthat
matter.Perhapsshe’sinterested…inyou.”

Bellacouldn’thelpit:shechortledatthethoughtofValentinahittingonher.“Ihighly

doubtit.”

“Justremember,Bella,datinganyhotelguest,ofanysex,wouldbreakouragreement.

Yes?”

“Yes,ma’am,”saidBella.

“Ahotelemployeewhodatestheguestsislittlebetterthanaprostitute,”shereminded

Bellainhushedtones.“Andslutswhofuckguestscertainlydon’tliveundermyroof.”

Bella’scheeksflaredwithheatasshestaredbackatMadame.

“Understood,”shewhispered.

“Wonderful,”saidMadameGothel,backingawayfromthereceptiondeskandturning

backintothesalon.

Ihavetogetoutofhere.

AssoonasNicoisgone,Iwillfigureoutaplan.

“SO TELL ME,” SAID NICO, offering her his arm as he picked her up after class,

“howwasExcelfortheMasses?”

“Dull,”saidBellawithasigh.“MadameinsistedthatItaketheclass,andhonestly?I

likebeinghereatcollegeonceaweek.Buttheclassitself?Ugh.”

“ShewantedyoutolearnExcelforwork?”

Bellanodded.“Isplitmytimebetweenstylinghair,answeringphones,andhelpingher

withthebooks.”

“Andcookingandcleaning.”

“Andcookingandcleaning,”sheagreedwithaheavysigh.

“Tellmethis…whatwouldyoustudyifyoucouldchooseanysubject?”heasked.

“Hmm.”Shepaused.“I’dbeasommelier,maybe.Orachef.”

“Soyou’dgotoculinaryschool.”

“Yes!Definitely!”sheexclaimed,holdinghisarmtighterasheledthemovertoFifth

Avenue,thenturnedlefttoheaddowntown.“Youwenttocollege.”

“Ofcourse,”hesaid.“Andlawschool.”

“You’refarbettereducatedthanIam.Ionlyhaveasecondary-schooldiploma.”

“Youcangobackandgetadegreewheneveryou’reready.”

“It’sveryexpensivehere,”shesaid.

“But not at home,” he reminded her. “There are many public universities in

Switzerland.”

“That’strue,”shesaid,noddingherheadasthoughithadn’toccurredtoherbefore.“I

guessIdon’tthinkofmyselfasSwissanymore…Well,Imean,Ido!OfcourseIdo.It’s
my home…where I grew up. Italian is my first language, but I’m fluent in German and
French,ofcourse,too.”

“AndEnglish.”

“EveryoneinSwitzerlandspeaksEnglish,”shesaid,rollinghereyesathim.“IguessI

justmeanthatIdon’tthinkofmyselfasaSwiss-livingpersonanymore.”

“Becauseyourlifeishere.”

She stopped walking and faced him. “My life? What kind of life is this? Chattel in

velvetchains to awoman who can’tstand the sight ofme. She hatesme, and I…well, I
don’t like her very much either.” She giggled suddenly, as though shocked by the
confession.“WhatevermymotheroncelovedaboutherfriendHelgaislonggonenow.I
don’tlikeheronebit!”

Nicochuckledwithher,thenleanedforwardtocupherfaceandkisshertenderly.

“Then change your fate,” he whispered against her lips, stopping in front of a little

bistro where they had a reservation for dinner, and desperately wishing he could do the
same.Beforeheturnedmelancholy,helookeddown,intoherbeautifulbrowneyes.“Meet
meupontheroofafterdinner?”

Shenodded.“Ofcourse.”

“Andtomorrownighttoo,Bella?It’s…ourlastnighttogether?”

Hesawthehesitationflareinhereyes,themomentofconcernforherselfandmaybe

evenalittlebitforhim.Becausethefeelingsbetweenthemwerereal,andsayinggood-
byeorforgettingeachotherseemedalmostasimpossibleasanItalianprincechanginghis
destinyforahairstylistfromSwitzerland.

Butshewasbrave,hisBella.

Sheliftedherlittlechinandnodded.

Chapter7

AFTERDINNERLASTNIGHT,NicoandBellahadheldhands,strollingdownFifth

Avenue like they had all the time in the world, when really it was winding down like
crazy.Theyenteredthehotellobbyseparately,buttenminuteslater,theymetontheroof,
falling into each other’s arms and kissing for hours. At one point, Bella had even fallen
asleeponNico’schest,herearoverhisheartandherbodysnuggledagainsthis.

And that’s when she’d known—in those warm, dark moments of disappearing time

beforehereyeshadflutteredclosed—thatshewasinlovewithhim.

Anditdidn’tmatterthatshe’dknownhimforlessthanaweek.

OrthatshewasacountrygirlandhewasanItalianprince.

Orthathewasolderandinfinitelymoresophisticatedthanshe.

Itdidn’tmatterthatshehadnomoneyandhehadtomarryforit.

Orthatshehadnosolidandsafeplanforherlife.

OrthatshelivedinNewYorkandhe’dbeleavingforFlorenceonSunday.

Noneofitmattered.

Noneofitcouldhaveshakenthecertaintyofherfeelings.

Thiswasthefeelingthathadshoneinherfather’seyeswhenhelookedathermother;

thiswasthedreamdeepandsafeinthefurthestreachesofeverywoman’sbeatingheart.
Thisfeeling.Theabsolutenessofit.

She held on to it, even made a lullaby of it, letting the words Ti amo slip between

everybeatofhisheartasshedriftedofftosleep.

He’dshakenherawakeanhourlaterwhenthehandsofeveryclocktheycouldseeon

the skyline pointed straight to heaven. It was already midnight, and besides the fact that
she needed to be at work by six tomorrow, if she wasn’t careful, she’d find the locks
changedonthepenthousedooroneeveningsoon.

They’d kissed good-bye, and Bella had known a sudden courage as she assured him

that she’d find him on the roof for their final night tomorrow. No more tears. No more
grievingforwhatcouldneverbe.Justaquietcertaintythattherewasnothinglefttosave
herself from; love had come, and there was no sense anticipating the fracturing of her
heart now because it was a foregone conclusion. She knew, with a new sense of
enlightenment,thatshemayhavefoundtheloveofherlifeinNicoDe’Medici,towhom
she’dalreadygivenherheart.Andyes,itmightbealonglifeofyearningifsheneversaw
himagain,butherwishforthirtyminutesofwonderfuloveralifetimeofnothingspecial
hadcometrue.

So when she climbed up the stairs on Thursday evening after work, it was with the

intentionofholdingnothingbackandhavingnoregrets.Ifshewastolivetherestofher
lifewithout her heart,the least shecould do was honorher feelings bynot being sad or
afraid.Therewouldbeplentyoftimeforsadnessandfear.Tonight?Tonightwasallabout

love.

“You’rehere,”hesaidthemomentsheopenedthedoorandwalkedintothestairwell.

“You scared me!” she said, placing her palm over her chest and giggling, breathless

withhappinesstoseehimagain.

Hereachedforher,cuppingthebackofherheadandkissingherinthedarkcement

hallway before leaning away. “I would have waited in the corridor, but I didn’t want
anyone to see me. This was the closest I could get to the elevator. Come on. I’m all set
up.”

Takingherhand,heclimbedthestairstotheroof,pullingherbehindhim.

Likelastnight,he’dorganizedalittlepicnicforthem,completewithanotherbottleof

TicinoMerlotandhisiPhoneplayingsoftmusic.

“IthoughtI’dtakeariskwiththemusic,”hesaid.“DoyoulikeChristinaPerri?”

Shenodded.“IlovedtheTwilightmovies.Hersong“AThousandYears”wassortof

theirtheme.”

As“SeaofLovers”startedplaying,heraisedhishandstoher.“Dancewithme?”

Heshuckedoffhisflip-flops,andshetoedoffherballetflats,steppingintohisarms.

Sheplacedonehandonhisshoulderandpressedherotherpalmagainsthis.Hewrapped
onearmaroundherwaistandpulledhercloser,lookingdeeplyintohereyes.

“Oh, Bella,” he breathed, his voice gravelly with aching longing, breaking with

emotion.

He pulled her flush against him as the thrumming drumbeat kicked in, his arms

locking around her waist and his fingers curling into her lower back. His breath was
shallow,shortburstsofmiseryagainsttheskinofherneckastheymovedslowlytogether.

“Don’t be sad,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck to press her heart

closertohis,andrestinghercheekagainsthisshoulderastheyrockedtothemusic.

Willyouletmefollowyou

Whereveryougo

Bringmehome

AsChristinaPerri’svoicefadedaway,Bellabreatheddeeply.

“I’mgoinghome,”shesaidsoftly.

“Rightnow?”heasked,hisvoiceclippedwithpanic.

“No,” she said, leaning back to look up at him. “I mean…I’m going back to Ticino,

Nico.”

Hiseyesscannedhers.“When?”

“AssoonasIcanmanageit.”Shesighed,smilingupathim.“Thisisn’tmyhome.Not

really. And after today…” She tilted her head to the side. “I will always remember our
days in New York, but I think I’d rather think of it as a fairytale. A perfect, imaginary

time.Abig,beautifulcitywherehandsomeprincesfallinlovewith—”Shegasped.“Oh,
Dio!Ididn’tmeanyou’dfallen…”

“It’strue,”hesaid,noddingslowly,holdinghereyeswithasearingintensity.“It’sthe

truth.Sayit.Saywhatyouweregoingtosay.Iwanttohearyousayit.”

“Okay.” She nodded at him. “…a big, beautiful city where handsome princes fall in

lovewithcountrygirlsfromlittletownsfar,faraway.”

Heclenchedhisjaw,stillnoddingather.“Idid.Ifellinlovewithyou.”

“SodidI,”sheadmitted,chucklingbitterly.“Stupidus.”

“Stupidus.”

“I’mnotsorry,”shesaid.“I’mnotsorrythatIfoundyou.I’mnotsorryIfellinlove

withyou.”

“Meneither,”hesaid,hiseyesdarkeningastheyflickedtoherlips,thentrailedslowly

backupherface.“I’llneverforgetyou,Bella.”

“Nico…,”shesaid,determinedtotellhimwhatshewantedbeforeshelosthernerve.

“Remember on Tuesday night? When you said that you wouldn’t be my first? That you
wouldn’tdothattome?”

“Iremember.”

“Iwantyoutobemyfirst.”

“Bella—”

“I’mnotachild.I’magrownwomanandI’mmakingthisdecisionformyself.Iwant

youtobemyfirst.Iwant…you.Allofyou.”

THEPARTOFHIMTHATwantedtoprotecther,tokeepherfrommakingamistake

thatshemightregretfortherestofherlife,wasoverruledbythesimpleandmiraculous
fact that they loved each other. He didn’t care that he was all but promised to someone
else;tonighthewasstillfree,andtonighthisheart,andhisbody,wouldbelongtonoone
butBella.

Shetookhishandandledhimovertotheblanket,reachingdownforthehemofher

dressandpullingitoverherhead.

Withouttouchingherordroppinghiseyestolookatherbody,hereachedbehindhis

neckandpulledhisT-shirtanddressshirtoverhishead,standingbare-chestedbeforeher.
Reaching for his belt buckle, he unfastened it, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans,
wigglingalittlesotheyfelltohisankles.Kickingthemaway,hetookasteptowardher.

Standing almost naked in the moonlight, she reached behind her neck and pulled

severalpinsfromherhair,lettingittumbleoverhershoulders.Thensheunclaspedherbra
andletitslipdownherarmsandtotherooftopwithawhisper.

Suddenly her face exploded into a smile, and she let her eyes fall, sliding tenderly

downhisthroat,overtheridgesofmuscleonhischest,andlingeringatthebulgeinhis
underwearbeforedroppingthemtohisfeet.

Followingherexampleandthirstytodrinkinherbeauty,hesavoredthecurveofher

neck and the delicate arc of her small shoulders. Her breasts—small, rounded orbs of
sensitiveflesh—madehisheartrace.Hedroppedhiseyestohersmooth,flatbelly,thento
the black panties that covered the part of her he craved so desperately. Her legs,
surprisinglylongandpale,wereslightlyknock-kneed,whichmadehischestswellwithso
muchlovehewonderedhowhecouldpossiblybearitall.

Staringathertinyfeet,herealized,yetagain,howmuchbiggerhewasthanshe,and

notwillingtofrightenher,heheldouthishand,keepinghiseyesdownuntilhefelther
fingerslacebetweenhis.Whenhelookedup,shewasstaringathiserection.

“Willithurt?”sheasked,slidinghereyesuptomeethis.

“We’llgoslow.”

Shenodded,herchestrisingandfallingasshetookadeepbreath.“Itrustyou.”

“Justfortonight,”hesaid,sweepingherintohisarmsbeforedroppingtohiskneeson

the blanket and laying her gently against the softness, “you’re mine, cara. And just for
tonight,I’myours.”

Leaningoverher,hereachedfortheblacklaceofherpanties,pullingthemoverher

slimhipsanddownherlegs,baringhertothenightandtohim—tohiseyes,tohislips,to
hismouth,whichwateredforatasteofher.

Kneelingbetweenherlegs,heleaneddown,lettinghisbarechestpressgentlyagainst

hersashekissedherdeeply,histongueslippingbetweenherlipstofindhers.Heflattened
hisforearmsoneithersideofherheadandlovedhermouthwithhis,rubbingherbreasts
withhischest,thrustinglightlyagainsthernakedbodyashekissedher.

Slidinghislipsdownthegracefulcolumnofherthroat,heinhaledhersmell,nuzzling

herwarm,softskin,wishingthathehadathousandnightslikethisoneinsteadofjustone.
Howhewouldhaveworshippedthenight,gratitudeburstinginhisheartforthehonorof
lovingherunderthemoon,underthestars,intheirbed,underthecovers,forever.

Herfingerstangledinhishairashesuckedoneofherpertnipplesbetweenhislips,

runninghistongueslowlyovertheridgesofherhardenedflesh,lettinghisteethrazeher
skingently,whichelicitedamoanfromherlips.

He chuckled against her skin, circling her other nipple with the tip of his tongue as

ChristinaPerrisangpassionatelyaboutthethousandyearsthatheandthisparticularBella
wouldneverhavetogether.

Coveringherbreastswithhispalmstokeepthemwarm,hekissedatraildownhersoft

belly,wonderingwhatitwouldhavelookedlikeswollenwithhischildren,theirhandsand
feet wiggling beneath her skin, her laughter as she pressed his palm against her flesh,
asking if he could feel it too. Banishing the beautiful dream from his mind, he slid his
handsdownhersides,overtheslightswellofherhips,asheglancedupatherface.Slack
with passion, her lips were parted, her eyes closed, her neck arched back—the most
naturallysensualwomanhe’deverknowninhislife.

“Bella,” he said, letting his palm skate to the hint of soft hair covering her pussy. “I

careaboutyousomuch.”

“Iknow,”shesighed,hervoicethickandheavy.“Please,Nico.”

Hedoubtedsheevenknewwhatexactlyshewasaskingfor,buthecouldn’twaitany

longer to taste her sweetness. Spreading her soft, delicate lips, he dipped his head and
touchedhistonguetotheslicknubofhiddenflesh.

Bellawhimpered,herhipsbuckingfromtheblanket,andNicoslidhishandsunderher

hips, cradling her in his arms as his tongue licked and sucked, circling her sensitive clit
before drawing away to blow softly on the throbbing flesh. She was wet and writhing,
readyforhim.

Leaningbackonhisknees,hepulledhisboxerbriefsoverhispulsingerection,then

stoodquicklyandpushedthemoverhiships,lettingthemfalltohisanklesandstepping
outofthem.

Beneathhim,Bellalookedupandsmiled.“Lookatyou.”

“Iwasjustthinkingthesamething.”

“The moon’s right over your shoulder,” she said. “It’s like you’re standing in the

middleofit.”

“Themaninthemoon,”hesaid,smilingdownather.

“Mymaninthemoon,”shecorrectedhim.

Hekneltdownbetweenherlegs,leaningforwardtokissheragain.“Areyousureyou

wantthis?”

Shereachedforhisface,cuppinghischeek.“I’msure.”

Hebithislip.“Idon’thaveprotection,Bella.”

Shetookadeepbreathandheldit,scanninghisface.“Areyoucareful?”

“Iam,”hesaid.“Ineedtobe.Gettingsomeonepregnantisn’tsomethingIshould…”

Hisvoicedriftedoffbecause,truthtold,ithadmomentarilyoccurredtohimtotrytoget
Bellapregnantsothatthey’dbeboundtooneanotherforlife.“Areyouonthepill?”

Sheshookherhead.“No.”

“Shit,”hesighed,rollingontohisbackandthrowinghisarmoverhiseyes.

Hefelthermove,heardherrustlingaroundontheblanketforamomentbeforeshelay

backdownbesidehim,placingsomethingonhischest.

Movinghisarms,helookeddowntoseeasquarefoilpacketshininginthemoonlight.

He reached for it, propping himself on his side and looking down at her with wonder.
“Youbroughtone?”

Sheshruggedlightly,sittingupandtakingitfromhisfingers.Shetoreitopenwithher

teeth,whichwasjustaboutthesexiestfuckingthingNicohadeverseeninhislife.

“IknewwhatIwanted.”

Breathing in deeply, his cock throbbing for her touch, he was rewarded with her

fingerswrappingaroundthebaseassheslippedthecondomoverhiserection.

Unable to wait any longer to bury himself inside of her, he flipped her to her back,

smiling down at her, finding her lips with his as he guided himself into her sex. Sliding
insideasslowlyaspossible,hecoveredhermouthwithhis,stealingherbreathashebroke
throughhervirginbarrier.

Shewhimperedinpain,anditclutchedathisheart.

“Areyouokay?”hepanted,deeplyimbeddedwithinherbutperfectlystillthoughthe

wallsofherpussythrobbedaroundhim.

“Givemeasecond,”sheansweredbreathlessly,herchestrisingandfallingquickly.

“Bella,” he groaned, looking into her eyes as beads of sweat broke out across his

forehead.“Iloveyou.”

She raised her legs experimentally, just a little, then a little more, until she was

cradlinghishipsbetweenhers.“Iloveyoutoo.”

Andthenhemovedwithinher,pullingoutthenthrustingbackinside,cradlingherface

ashisbodypumpedintohers,lovingthewayshemoanedashemovedfaster,feelingthe
gathering in his balls, which tightened with every push. And Bella’s body—Dio, for the
rest of his life, he’d remember the way they fit together, the tightness of her sheath, the
way she clung to him, panting into his ear, her sweet breath falling against his straining
neckinpuffsasherlegslockedbehindhisback.

“Iwish…,”hegratedout.“Iwish,Iwish…ODio,Bella,vorreiavervisempreaccanto

ame!”IwishIcouldhaveyoualwaysbymyside!

“Anch’io,”shepanted.Metoo.“Amami,Nico…amami…amami…amami…”

Herwords—loveme…loveme…loveme…loveme—werealitanyoflonging,oftruth,

ofeverythingthathewishedhecouldhave.Theytippedhimovertheedgeofpassion,and
hefoundhisrelease,cryingouthisowntruthashecameinsideofher:

“Tiamo,miacaraBella!Persempre.”

Iloveyou,mydarlingBella.Forever.

THEYSLEPTFORAWHILEaftermakinglove,andwhentheyawoke,itwasmuch

later—theskyalmostblackbutforthefullmoonandbrighteststars.Forawhile,rolledup
in the blanket together, they stayed naked, sipping wine and snacking on cheese. Had
Bellathoughttobringasecondcondom,theywouldhavemadeloveasecondtime,but
without it, they stared into one another’s eyes for hours, their bodies flush against each
other,holdingoneanothertightly,kissingatwill.Asthesecondstickedby,though,their
smileswerelessbrave,theirheartsevermoreheavy.

Whenthefirstlightofdawnstartedbrighteningthesky,shefeltakindofpanicseize

herheart,butshepusheditaside,wigglingfromtheircozycocoonandreachingforher

braandpanties.

“You’regettingreadytoleave,”hesaidsoftlyfrombehindher,hisvoiceheartbroken.

“It’s time,” she answered, clasping her bra. She stood up and picked up her dress,

pullingitoverherhead.“I’vestayedmuchlongerthanIshouldhave.”

“It’snotlightyet,”hesaid.

“Itwillbe.Verysoon.”

Shegatheredherthickblackhairatthenapeofherneckandbounditintoaquickbun.

Shedidn’twanttocry—shedidn’twantNico’slastmemoriesofhertobewatchingher
cry—buthereyeshadalreadystartedtoburn,andshefeltthewarmwetnessslipdownher
cheeks.

It had been the most beautiful night of her life. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

Turningaround,shelookeddownatNico,stillpartiallycoveredwiththeblanket,gazing
upatherwithglisteningeyesofhisown.Hebracedhispalmonthefloorasthoughabout
tostand.

“Don’tgetup,”shesaidquickly,kneelingdownbesidehim.

“Ihatethis,”hesaid,reachingforhercheek.

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, then forcing them open. “Don’t hate it.

Thirtyminutesofwonderful,remember?Wehadawholeweek.”

“I’llliveonit,Bella,”hetoldher,“fortherestofmylife.”

Sheshookherhead.“No,Idon’twantthat.Iwantyoutobehappy.”

“Thatfeelsimpossiblerightnow.”

“Promisemeyou’lltry.”

Hiseyesshutteredclosedastearsescaped,slidingslowlydownhischeek.“I’lltry.”

Shereacheduptowipeawayhertears,thenleaneddowntokisshim.Itwouldbetheir

lastkiss,soshetriedtonoticeeveryridgeofhislips,thewayhesoundedashebreathed
in,thewayhesmelled—amixofhimandher—thewayhishandfeltagainstherface.

Drawingaway,sheswallowedasobandsomehowmanagedtosay,“Behappy.”

Hecoveredhisfacewithhishands,andshestoodquickly,runningacrosstheroofto

thestairwelldoorbeforesheallowedherselftocry.

She walked quickly down the hall to the elevator, pressed the button for the thirty-

secondfloor,andsteppedoutoftheelevatortotheglassdoorsofthesalon.Takingthekey
from her pocket, she unlocked the doors and slipped inside, beelining through the dark
spacetothestaffbathroom,whereshesatdownonthetoiletandwept.

Itwassoblisteringlyunfairthatsheshouldmeettheloveofherlifeandhavetolose

him.JustlikeMadame.

Madame.

SheneededtogethomebeforeMadame,whowasanoccasionalearlyriser,wokeup.

Splashingherfacewithcoldwater,shestraightenedherdress,fashionedherlonghair

intoabraid,andthenleftthesalonandheadeddownstairs.Asshepulledherkeyfromher
dresspocket,however,thedooropened,andthere,inthedoorway,stoodMadame.

“Iwarnedyou,”shesaid,holdingoutBella’spassporttoher.

“Please,”whisperedBella,takingthelittleredbookfromMadame’sfingers.

“I saw you,” said Madame, crossing her arms over her chest and blocking the

doorway.Ameansmiletiltedherlips.“Spreadingyourlegsontheroof.IbelieveIhavea
pictureonmyphoneifyouwanttoseeit.”

Bellastaredatherinshockanddisgust,refusingtoanswer.

“Whowashe?”

Clenching her jaw, Bella lifted her chin, looking Helga Gothel straight in the eyes.

“I’msorry.”

“It’stoolate.You’reout.I’llgiveyouhalfanhourtogetyour—”

“I’m not sorry about last night,” she said, her voice sure and strong. “I’m sorry he

didn’tloveyou.”

Madame’seyesnarrowed.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re—”

“Butifyouwereasmiserablethenasyouarenow,”shecontinued,“hemadetheright

choicewhenhepickedmymother.”

“Karin stole him from me!” Madame Gothel exclaimed, her face red with fury. “He

lovedmefirst!”

Bellathoughtaboutherparents,aboutthewayherfatherlookedathermother,about

thewayshetousledhisjet-blackhair,sighingwithhappiness.

“Helovedherbetter,”saidBellaquietly,sidlingpasthergodmothersoshecouldgo

packupherthings.

Sheclosedthedoortoherbedroomandpulledasuitcasefrombeneathherbed.She

didn’t have much—some clothes and toiletries, a few books, some framed pictures, and
some jewelry that had been her mother’s. Anything else she could replace once she got
home.

Home.

Herheartachedwiththegoodnessofit.

Taking the little change purse from her top drawer, she counted out her tips. Four

hundredandsixty-twodollars.Shedoubteditwouldbeenoughforaplanetickethome.
Sittingdownonherbed,shelookedatherselfinthemirroroverthedresser,atherfather’s
jet-blackhairthatcascadeddownherbacktorestonthebedbehindher.

Andsuddenlysheknewexactlyhowshewouldgethome.

Chapter8

Aweeklater

“Bella,deviuscireconnoiunasera,”saidhercoworker,Ilsa,usingabroomtosweep

thehaircuttingsfromaroundherstylingchair.Youhavetocomeoutwithusonenight.

“Sí!” cried Tia, who looked up from holding the dustpan for her cousin, Ilsa. “Dai

vieniconnoi,sulserio.Almenoperunpo’?”Comeonoutwithus,girl!Justforalittle?

Bella put the two combs in her hand into the sterilizing solution, then gathered a

handfulofpinsintoherpalmandshovedthemintoadrawer.

“Nonquestasera,”shesaid.Nottonight.

“You’re too sad!” said Tia, hopping up to dump the contents of the dustpan into the

trash.“YouwereneverlikethisbeforegoingtoAmerica!”

Ilsanoddedinagreement.“You’rebreakingourhearts,Bella.”

Since returning home to Bellinzona a week ago, Bella had been lovingly welcomed

backbyschoolfriendswhohadn’tforgottenher.Indeed,IlsaandTiaBonasco,withwhom
Bellahadgrownup,hadevenhelpedhergetajobhereatSaloneRosa.

“Ijust…”Shesighed,thinkingofNico’sfaceandfeelingherheartclenchwithagony.

“Imisssomeone.”

“ButthereareplentyofsomeonesgoingtoLaFabriquetonight!”insistedIlsa.“And

oneofthosesomeone’scouldbeanewsomeoneforyou!”

Tiasnortedathercousin.“You’reridiculous,youknowthat?”

Smilingatherfriends,Bellashookherhead.“Soon,Ipromise.Butfornow?Ithink

I’lljustheadhomeandrelax.”

“Home!”scoffedIlsa.“Aroom!Averydrearyroom!Youshouldcomeandstaywith

us.”

Bellahadearned$3,000sellingherhair,whichhadboughtheran$800one-wayplane

tickethome,andshe’dtakenataxistraighttotheBellinzonaYouthHostel,whereshe’d
luckedoutinreservingasingleroomfortwoweeks.

Meanwhile,she’dalsofoundanapartmenttorentonViaGhiringelli,butshecouldn’t

moveinuntilJuly1…whichwasfinewithBella.Whileshewaslivingatthehostel,she’d
nurse her broken heart, but next week when she moved into her new apartment, she
intendedtostartanewlifethatdidn’tincludebreath-stealingmemoriesofacertainItalian
prince.

“Youtwoshareabedasitis,”notedBella.“Besides,mynewplacewillbereadyina

week.”

“Soyou’rejustgoingtogohomeandweepsomemore?”askedTia.

“No.I’mgoingtodrinkafewglassesofdecentwineandwatchthesunsetbeforeIget

agoodnight’ssleep.”

“Santa Bella will be ready for church in the morning,” said Ilsa, putting the broom

away,“andwe’lljustbestumblinghome.”

“Comeon,”saidTia,puttingherarmaroundBella’sshouldersasshewithdrewthekey

to the salon from her pocket. “We’re catching the bus. We’ll walk you halfway to the
hostel.”

HerfriendsbuzzedmerrilyabouttheirSaturday-nightplansastheywalkedwithBella,

kissinghergood-byeattheintersectionofViaDoganaandViaLugano,wheretheycould
catchabus,thenatrain,northtoLaFabriquenightclubinCastellone.

Bellawavedgood-byetothem,strollingthroughthepiazzaforViaNocca,lookingup

atthecastleonthehillandthemountainsbeyondandtryingtofeelgratefultobehome.
ShewashappytobeawayfromMadameGothel,outfromunderherunkindkeeping.She
didn’t miss the New York Metro Tower Hotel or any of the employees at the hotel with
whomshe’dworkedforahandfulofyears.

ButshemissedNico.

Sobadly,andwithsuchaprofoundandconstantyearning,sometimesshewasn’tsure

howshe’dsurviveit.

Mostnightsshecriedherselftosleep,rememberingthetendernessofhiscaressesand

thegentlesoundofhistremblingvoiceinherear:Tiamo,miacaraBella!Persempre.

ButsheandNicohadn’tsharedaforeverlove,justabreathlessweekofwonderfulthat

shewishedcouldhavebeenmore.

Shekickedapebbleinherpath,takingaraggedbreathasshecrossedherarmsover

herchest.

Youwereafling,Bella,andsowashe.Asweetsummerfling.Letitbeenough.Notall

girls can look back and say that once upon a time they made love to a prince under a
starrysky…

Andyetshewasn’tcomfortedbythethought.Maybebecauseshehadn’tbeenmaking

lovetoaprince;she’dbeenmakinglovetoNico,andshemissedhimwitheverybreath,
everybeatofherachingheart.

As she walked up to the gorgeous old villa that had been transformed into a youth

hostelin2002,sheranherfingersthroughherclose-croppedhair,stilltryingtogetusedto
it.Shetookadeepbreath,wishingshecouldrememberwhatkindofwineshe’dstashedin
thebackofhercloset.She’dpurchasedseveralbottlesandwassteadilyplowingthrough
themeacheveninginthehostel’scourtyard,sittingaloneinawoodenloungechairbyan
ancient fountain until she was just drunk enough to fall into bed and have a cry before
fallingmercifullytosleep.

AgoodMerlot,Ithink.Orwasita—

“Bella.”

Shefrozeinhertracks,clenchinghereyesclosedandballingherfingersintofistsby

hersides.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened this week—hearing his voice like she hadn’t

lefthiminNewYorkwithoutaforwardingaddressorwordofanykind—butitwasthe
cruelestofthetrickshermindplayed.

Except…

Except this time, someone reached for her right hand and was gently unfurling her

fingers.

“CaraBella.Tiprego…guardarmi.”DarlingBella.Please…lookatme.

Shefelthisbreathonherlips,feltthewarmthofhisbodynearhers,butshefearedthat

ifsheopenedhereyes,thebeautifulillusionwoulddisappear.

“Youlooksodifferent,”hewhisperedclosetoherear.“Quasinontiriconoscevo.”I

almostdidn’trecognizeyou.

TheNicosheleftinNewYorkwouldn’tknowanythingabouthercuttingherhair…

whichmeant…whichmeant…hewasreal!

With trembling fingers, she reached up to touch his face, sobbing as she opened her

eyestofindhimstandinginfrontofher.

“Nico,”shemanagedtowhisperashereyestracedthelinesofhisbelovedface.There

werecirclesunderhiseyes,hishairwasmessy,andhisbeardwasthicker,butitwashim.
ItwasNicoDe’Medici,herlostlove,andhewassomehowherewithherinBellinzona.
“Seiqui.”You’rehere.

“Midispiacetantissimo,amoremio,”hemurmured,pullingherintohisarms.I’mso

sorry,mylove.

“Forwhat?”

Tears trailed down her cheeks as she reached up to wind her arms around his neck,

layinghercheekagainsthischestandinhalingthefamiliarscentofAcquaNobile.

“For letting you go.” She sobbed softly, clutching him tighter as he continued: “As

soonasyoulefttheroof,IknewIwasmakingamistaketoletyousaygood-byetome.I
gotdressed,cleanedup,andwentbacktomyroomtochange.BythetimeIgottoyour
apartment, you were gone, and that witch—your goddamned godmother—told me she’d
kickedyouout.Iwasoutofmymindwithworry!Ihadnoideawhereyou’dgone,Bella.
Wheredidyougo?”

“ToBrooklyn.Ifoundaplacethatwouldbuymyhair,”shesobbed.“Isoldittocome

home.”

Hedrewback,reachingforhercheeks,hisfingertipstouchingthefeatheredlayersof

her cropped cut and his eyes glistening with tears. “You’re so beautiful, Bella. So
beautiful.”

“Ilookdifferent,”shesaid,feelingamomentofinsecurity.

“YoulooklikemyBella,”hesaid,brushingherlipswithhis.

“Howdidyoufindme?”sheasked.

“Irememberedyouwantedtocomehome.IknewyouwerefromTicino…”

Shenodded,smilingathimthroughhertears.

“…butIdidn’tknowwhere.IleftNewYorkonMondaynightforLugano.Itriedto

thinkaboutwhereyou’dbe,whereyou’dgo.Iknewyoudidn’thavemoney,soIchecked
at small hotels, but then it occurred to me that you might stay at an osteria for a little
whiletosavemoney.Youweren’tinLugano,soItriedtheoneinLocarnoonThursday.
No again, but they were kind enough to call here, to ask if there was a Bella Capelli
checkedin.”Atearslippedfromhiseye.“Andyouwerehere.”

She reached up and swiped the tear away, cupping his cheek. His face was haggard

anddrawn,assadandtiredashers.“Youfoundme.”

“Iwasn’tsureyou’dwanttoseeme.”

“Ineedtoknow,”shesaid.“Areyoumarryingher?PrincessElena?”

Heshookhishead.“No,Bella.”

“Youbrokeitoff?”Hedidn’tanswerherrightawayandherheartlurched.“Butyour

families.Yourparents.Theprincess.Dio,Nico!Yourtwocountries!Ican’tbethereason
that—”

“Bella!Bella,”hesaid,stoppingherwordswithasweetkiss,thenrestinghisforehead

againsthers.“Letmetellyouwhathappened.It’s…well,itwassortofperfect.Larisposta
adunapreghiera.”Theanswertoaprayer.

“Tellme!”sheinsisted,hervoicebreathlesswithanticipation.

“ShemetsomeoneelseinAfrica.”Hedrewbackandgrinnedather,hiseyessparkling

withhappiness.“Adoctor.FromSweden.”

Bellaletgoofthebreathshewasholding,gigglingashereyesfilledwithmoretears.

“Adoctor?Areyouserious?”

“From Doctors Without Borders.” He nodded, his eyes tracing her face as though

memorizing it, as though recording it so that he could keep its image safe forever.
“Someonewhosharesthesamepassionshedoes.”

“Larispostaadunapreghiera.Yes.”Shetookadeepbreathandsighed.“I’msoglad

youdidn’thurther.”

Hiseyesnarrowedandhemurmured,“ButIwouldhave.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasked.

“I would have hurt her, walked away from her, run away from her…if that’s what it

would have taken to get to you. I’d already decided on that roof that I couldn’t live
withoutyou…thatmytitle,myfamily,Elena—allofitwasexpendable.Allthatmattered
wasyou.”Herestedhisforeheadonhersagain.“YoumademepromisethatI’dtrytobe
happy. But Bella…I can’t be happy without you. I wouldn’t have proposed. I couldn’t
havepossiblymarriedherwhenIamtotallyinlovewithyou.”

“Nico…,” she sobbed, her lips frantically searching for his and covering them with

littlekissesofpurehappiness.“Tiameròpersempre.”Iloveyouforever.

“Tiameròpersempreancheio,Bella.”I’llalsoloveyouforever,Bella.

Heheldhertightlyforalongwhile,rubbingherbackasthesunstartedtosetbehind

MontebelloCastleonthehillbehindthem.Itwasalmostasthoughtheyhadtoabsorbit,
trustit,believethattheyweretogetheragain…andthistime,itwasforever.

When she leaned back to look at him, she couldn’t help sighing with happiness, the

samewayhermotherusedto.“Areyoureallyhere?”

“I’mreallyhere,Bellacara.”

“Andwedon’thavetosaygood-bye?”

“We have all the time in the world.” She threw her arms around his neck, and he

huggedhertightly.Hewhisperedinherear,“Butwedohaveonelittleproblem.”

“What?”

“Anychanceyou’dtakemeonasaroommate?”heasked.“Ihavenowheretostayin

BellinzonaandI’dreallyliketostaywithBella.”

Shechuckledsoftly.“Ihaveatwinbedifyoudon’tmindsharing.”

“Idefinitelydon’tmindsharing,”hesaidwithawolfishgrin.“It’llremindmeofour

blanketontheroof.”

“Ilovedthatblanketontheroof,”shesaidwistfully.

“Metoo,”hesaid,kissingthetipofhernose.“Thoughitdoesseemlikearawdealfor

you,caraBella.Youfellinlovewithaprince…butI’mafraidaprincewithoutafortune
isn’tworthverymuch.”

“To whom? To me, Nico De’Medici, you’re everything. Everything,” she said again,

bathing in the love shining from his eyes and knowing the same was brightening hers.
“Notto mention, youfell in lovewith a girl whohad long, beautifulhair. Sure you still
wantmenow?”

“Now and forever. I’m positive, Bella Capelli,” he said softly, threading his fingers

throughtheshortjet-blackstrandsashedrewherfacetohistokissher.“Ididn’tfallin
lovewithyourhair,miacara.Ifellinlovewithyourheart.”

TheEnd

Alettertomyreaders

DEARREADER,

It’sbeenawhilesinceIwroteanovella!IhopeyouenjoyedSHEARHEAVEN,my

takeonamodern-dayRapunzel.

Myfairytalesareallwritten,inpart,asfundraisers.Therefore,10%ofthenetroyalties

onpaperbackande-booksalesofthisbookduringitsre-releaseinDecember2017willbe
donatedtoLockofLove.

Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to

financiallydisadvantagedchildrenundertheageof21sufferingfromlong-termmedical
hairlossfromanydiagnosis.

LearnmoreaboutLocksofLove(ormakeyourownhairormonetarydonation!)here:

http://www.locksoflove.org/

Pleaseconsiderpurchasingane-bookorpaperbackcopyofthisnovellainDecember

sothatpartofyourcontributionwillhelpchildreninneed.

Fromthebottomofmyheart,thankyouforreading.

LOVE,

Katy

Loveholidayromances?FlipthepageforasneakpeekofKaty’sNewYear’sEvenovella,

COUNTDOWNTOMIDNIGHT,availableonDecember11

(SneakpeekofCOUNTDOWNTO

MIDNIGHT,aholidaynovellabyKatyRegnery.

Allrightsreserved.AvailableDecember11,2017.)

Chapter1

Merit&Elizabeth

MERITATWELLSLAMMEDonthebrakeswithabellowofannoyance.

“Whatthehell?Didyouseethat?Shecutmeoffandtookmyspot!”

Hisyoungerbrother,Amity,whosatbesidehiminthepassengerseat,glancedupfrom

hisphoneforthefirsttimeinhours,pullingoutoneearbud.

“Huh?” Following his brother’s scowl to the red taillights of a white Mercedes, he

shruggedbeforeglancingbackatMerit.“Oh,well.Findanother.”

“I’veonlydrivenaroundthisdamnlotfivetimes!”

“Thenvaletit.”

“Shutup,Amity.I’mnotvaleting.”

“’Causeyou’recheap.”

“JustbecauseIdon’tburnthroughmoneylikethetwinsdoesn’tmeanI’mcheap,”he

snapped.“I’mnotafreeloader.”

Merit’sblusterwaswasted,though.Amityhadalreadyreplacedtheearpieceandwas

totallyabsorbedwithhisphonescreenagain.

Recently board certified in pediatrics, Amity had three weeks off before starting his

PediatricOncologyFellowshipatSt.JudeChildren’sResearchHospital.DuringAmity’s
rarebitofdowntime,Meritwashopingtohavesometimetobondwiththebrotherwho’d
oncebeenhisverybestfriend.Thoughonlyasixteenmonthsapartandtightaskids,Merit
andAmitydidn’tseemuchofeachotheranymore.MerithadcompletedhisMBAintheir
hometownofBostonsixyearsago,buthe’dlefttoopenachainofbarsinPhiladelphia,
whileAmityhadremainedinBeantowntocompletefouryearsofcollege,fouryearsof
medschoolandathree-yearpediatricresidency.

When Merit had moved to Philadelphia, he’d welcomed the break from his Boston

“Brahmin” family—from the inevitable pressure that surrounded the celebrated Atwell
nameandthesharpdisappointmenthisfatherhadexpressedwhenMeritrefusedtogointo
thefamilybusinesslikehisolderbrothers,EverandConcord.

But the distance between Philly and Boston felt wider with every passing year, and

Meritfoundhedidn’tloveitasmuchasheoncedid.Hemissedtherowdycompanyofhis
five brothers more and more, envied their stories about grabbing drinks after work or
hitting the gym together on the weekends. With his thirtieth birthday coming up fast in
January,familywasonhismindmoreandmore.Hemissedit.Hewantedit.

So far, however, Merit’s hopes for reconnecting with Amity on this ski break hadn’t

exactlypannedout.Sincethey’dleftBostonontheirfive-hourjourneytoSaranacLake,
Amityhadbeengluedtohisphone—oneofthekidshe’dcaredforduringhisresidency

washavingatrickysurgerytoday,andAmitywaswatchingalivestreamoftheprocedure
onhisphone.

Proud as hell of Amity, Merit didn’t say anything about making the long drive in

relativesilence.Afterall,they’dhaveNewYear’sweekendtocatchup.Meritonlywished
hisotherbrothers—Ever,Concord,andthetwins,RansomandReason—hadcomealong,
as well. Unfortunately, all but Merit and Amity had to be back in the offices of Atwell
Financial Services, LLC between Christmas and New Year’s…which is precisely why
Merithadchosentogointobusinessonhisown.NoonetoldMeritAtwellwhenhecould
comeandgo.Hewashisownboss.Hisownman,makinghisownway.

GlaringatthewhiteMercedes,hesteppedonthegastodoyetanotherlaparoundthe

crowdedparkinglot.Asheglancedintherearviewmirror,hecaughtsightofared-head
emergingfromthedriver’ssideandscoffed.

Figures.Neverbeenafanofgingers,hethoughtashepulledintoavacantspotonthe

farsideoftheparkinglot,besidethedumpsters.

Cuttingtheengine,heturnedtoAmity,yankingtheclosestearbudoutofhisbrother’s

ear.“We’rehere.”

“Gah!”Amityscrambledtopushtheearpiecebackin.“They’realmostdone,Merit.

Don’tbeanasshole!”

Exiting the car with a sigh, Merit popped the trunk and removed their luggage: two

rollingsuitcases,twolong,nylonduffelbagsthatheldtheirskisandpoles,andtwocases
of beer, one of Yuengling and the other Sam Adams. As he stared at the cases of
PhiladelphiaandBostonbeer,hefeltitagaininthepitofhisstomach—thelongingtobe
closertohisbrothers,theyearningforfamily.

ButmovingbacktoBostonwasn’tanoption.Asidefromthefactthatheandhisfather

werelikeoilandwater,MerithadbuiltawholenewlifeforhimselfinPhilly.Heowned
three bars, an apartment overlooking the Schuylkill and had a rich social life, which
includedchildhoodfriendslikehisclosestbuddy,CortAmbler.

Except….

HisnosewrinkledashethoughtofCort.

AlthoughCorthadmanagedto“fillin”forMerit’sbrothersforafewyears,sincehe’d

started dating Madeline Rousseau, Merit barely saw him anymore. He and Mad were
starting their own life together. He didn’t begrudge Cort’s happiness—on the contrary—
Merit celebrated Cort and Mad’s recent engagement. But as the best friend, he’d lost
something…anditmadetheholeinhisheartlabeled“family”acheallthemore.

ThepassengerdooropenedandAmitysteppedoutside,earbudsmissing,andstretched

hisarmsoverhishead.

“Whew!Longdrive!”hesaid,turningtohisolderbrotherwithagrin.“Diditalways

takesolongtogetuphere?”

“Yeah,”mutteredMerit,feelingannoyed.“Getyourstuff.”

“Areyougoingtobeinacrappymoodallweekend?”askedAmity,swinginghisski

bagontohisshoulderandextendingthehandleofhissuitcase.

“I wasn’t planning on being in a crappy mood at all,” said Merit, scowling as they

walked past the white Mercedes. “I just—I don’t know. I wish Ever, Con and the twins
couldhavecometoo.”

Amityshrugged.“They’reworkingonadeal.”

“SoIgathered.”

TheconversationaroundtheAtwellChristmastablehadbeenlargelyfocusedonsaid

deal, which had excluded Merit, Amity and their mother from the majority of the
conversation.Theysatattheotherendofthelongtable,asthoughinexile.

“It’sabigone,”saidAmity.“Biggestdealinyears.They’reworkingonitwithBarrett

English.” He chuckled, no doubt recalling a fond childhood memory that included the
prominentPhiladelphiafamilyoffivebrothers.“Rememberthatsummerpartytheyused
to have every year in Haverford? We went a couple of times with Mom and Dad. Man,
thatwasagoodtime.”

“Yeah,”mumbledMerit.

He saw the English brothers frequently around Philly, but their close brotherly bond

and recent marriages, which multiplied their already-robust family with wives and
children,waslikesaltinMerit’swounds.

“Christ, Merit! What’s the problem?” asked Amity, placing a hand on his brother’s

armastheywalkedintothelobbyofTheViewonSaranacLake.

Meritscannedthegreatroom,feelingthechiponhisshouldersoftenatouch.Askids,

they’d arrived at this venerable old resort every year to celebrate New Year’s Eve—six
energeticboysandtheirlovingparents—tokickoffanewyearinstyle.

“Nothing.”Hesighed,glancingsidewaysatAmityandforcingaslightgrin.“It’sgood

tobeback,isn’tit?”

“Ahhhh!”saidAmity,clappinghisbrotherontheback.“Thereheis!”

“Yeah. It’s going to be a good weekend,” said Merit, turning toward the reception

desk.

Butashiseyesslammedintothebackofthered-headedparking-spotthief,hissmile

dimmed. She was leaning against the reception desk, elbows propped on the marble
counter,checkingin.Hehadhalfamindtotellherwhathethoughtofherdrivingskills,
butwhenhiseyesdroppedtohertightwaistandroundedassinashort,blackpencilskirt,
heswallowedthewords,followinghishungrygazedownshapelystemstoshiny,Satan-
red,high-heeledshoes.

Devilshoes.

Andshewashotashelltomatch.

Hebithislowerlipuntilithurt,steppingclosertoherinspiteofhimself.

“Whatdoyoumeanyou’reoverbooked?”shedemandedinalow,lethalJessicaRabbit

purr.

Asthehotelclerkbesidetheonehelpingthered-headgesturedMeritforward,hehad

afeelingthatsomeonewascatchinghellfromthedevil.

KEEPING HER COOL UNDER pressure was one of Elizabeth Story’s strengths in

and out of the courtroom, but she didn’t drive all the way from Philadelphia to Saranac
Lake only to be told that the slope side cottage she’d booked for her and Jane wasn’t
available.Hellno.

“I’ms-sosorry,ma’am,but—”

“Impossible,”shesaidevenly.“Checkagain.Itwasbookweeksago.”

“Y-Yes,ma’am,”saidthedeskclerk,raisinghiseyesnervouslyfromhiscomputer.“I

doseethatitwasbooked.Theproblemis…itwasdoublebooked.”

“Doublebooked?”

“Mm-hm.Unfortunately,someoneelsehasbeenbookedinthesameaccommodation

forthesameperiodoftime.”

“Isee,”saidElizabeth,shootingdiamond-sharpdaggersfromhereyesassheoffered

him a pleasant smile. She slid her gaze to his nametag. “Tom, is it? Tom, I’m going to
needtoyoufixthis.Now.Findusalternate,butcommensurate,accommodationshereon
property.”

Tom blinked at her, then cleared his throat and started typing furiously on his

computer. A moment later he looked up. “Well, yes. Okay. Here’s a solution: we can
accommodateyouhereintheinntomorrownight.OnSaturday.”

“Andwherearewemeanttosleeptonight?”snappedElizabeth.“Hereinthelobby?”

“No,ma’am,”hesaid.“Wedon’tallowthat.”

“You’restartingtomakemeangry,Tom.”

“Umm.”

“Fixit,Tom.”

“We could—umm, we could put you up at our sister property?” he suggested

hopefully.“TheMountatLakePlacid.Thereisa,umm,adoubleroomavailablefor—”

“Isthereaskimountainthere,Tom?”askedElizabeth,alreadyknowingtheanswer.

“Umm.Oh.”Tomhissedthroughhisteethasheshookhishead.“No,ma’am.Noton

site.”

“Thenthatisn’tasuitablesuggestion,isit,Tom?”

“Bets, go easy,” said Jane, Elizabeth’s younger sister, who was standing beside her,

“we could stay at the Mount tonight, then come back here tomorrow afternoon for New
Year’sEve.”

“No, Jane, we can’t,” answered Elizabeth, without taking her eyes off of Tom. “We

bookedtheView.We’restayingattheView.”

“God,you’returningintodaddy!”murmuredJane,crossingherarmsoverherchest.

Elizabeth darted a glance to her sister, narrowing her eyes. “I take that as a

compliment.”

“Ididn’tmeanitasone,”mumbledJane.

Elizabeth shrugged off her sister’s comment and turned back to Tom, her patience

abouttosnap.“Tom,ifyoudon’tgivemethekeystoButternutCottagerightnow—”

“That’s two people in Butternut Cottage for the long weekend, correct?” asked a

chippervoicebesideher.

Elizabeth’seyesslidlikeagreasedpucktothehotelclerkstandingdirectlytoTom’s

right.Themanchecking-inbesidehernodded.“That’scorrect.Thankyou.”

Putting her hands on her hips and shifting her body to face the man, Elizabeth said,

“Excuseme.DidIjusthearyousaythatyou’restayinginButternutCottage?”

“That’s right,” said the man, his gorgeous lips tilting up in a smile, though his eyes

were cool. Elizabeth knew that look and realized he’d heard everything going on beside
him—hewaslaughingather.Jerk.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” she said, adding a little steel to her tone as she’d

heardherfatherdosoeffortlesslyamilliontimes.“We’vebookedButternutCottage—my
sisterandme.”

“Doesn’tlooklikeit,”saidthejerk,turningbacktothedeskclerkasheslidhiscredit

cardacrossthecountertocoverresortincidentals.

“Wait just a minute!” said Elizabeth, reaching out to snatch his card from the

receptionist’sfingers.“ButternutCottageisours.”

“Ha!” chortled the man, yanking the card from Elizabeth and handing it back to the

deskclerkwithaslapofhispalmagainstthemarble.“Firstyoustealmyparkingspace,
now you’re trying to steal my cottage? Listen, baby, I don’t know what the hell your
problemis,but—”

“Baby?Yourparkingspace?Whothehelldoyouthink—”

“You’regoingtodenyit?”hedemanded.“YouswoopedinwithyourwhiteMerce—”

“Areyoucraz—”

“Jane?JaneStory?”

“Amity?Oh,myGod!AmityAtwell!”exclaimedJane,steppingupnexttoElizabeth,

herattentionfocusedonthemanstandingbesidethejerk.“Whoa!Hi!”

Elizabeth slid a glance to Jane’s bright eyes and even brighter smile before looking

back and forth between the two men, quickly deciding—from their similar height and
coloring—thattheymustbebrothers.

Oh,wait.

Oh,crap.

Brothers.Atwell.TheAtwellBrothers.

A sinking feeling made Elizabeth’s stomach knot as she lifted her eyes to Amity’s

brother,thejerk,recognitioncreepingintoherconsciousnessandmakingherfistsclench
slowlybyhersides.

Meanwhile,AmityandJanecontinuedtheirjoyfulreunion.

“Holycrow!”criedAmity,runningahandthroughhisdirtyblondehair,hisblueeyes

twinklingwithexcitement.“It’ssogoodtoseeyou,Jane…what’sitbeen…?”

“Fouryears?”askedJane,edginginfrontofElizabethtostepclosertoAmity.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “About that. How are you? You look…wow, you look great,

Jane.”

“Thanks.Youtoo.”

“Oh!”saidTom-the-desk-clerk,hiswildeyesdartingbackandforthbetweenJaneand

Amity before resting on Elizabeth with barely-restrained hope. “You know each other?
Perhapsyoucouldsharethe—”

“No!”yelledthejerk.

“No!”criedElizabeth.

She was absolutely, positively not sharing a cottage with these two. No. Not

happening.Shecouldn’tthinkofasinglereasonthatwouldinducehertoagreetoshare
anything with the Atwell brothers…especially Merit Atwell, the biggest jerk that ever
was.

“Alittle,”saidJanesoftly,grinningatAmityassheansweredTom’squestion.

“Morethan a little,” Amity amended, unable to take his eyes off of Jane. “We could

definitelyshare.”

Enoughwasenough.

Elizabethgrabbedhersister’ssweatersleeveandwhippedheraround.“Areyounuts?

Idon’tknowthem!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Jane, quickly remembering her manners. “Amity, this is my

sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Amity Atwell. We, um, well, we knew each other at
Harvard.”

AmityshiftedhisglancetoElizabethandextendedhishand.“Goodtomeetyou.Jane

andElizabeth,thisismyolderbrother,Merit.”

“Hi,Merit,”saidJane,shakinghishandwithaneasygrin.

“Right,” said Elizabeth tightly, meeting his cool blue eyes as goosebumps sprang up

on her arms. She dropped Amity’s hand, but didn’t reach for Merit’s, eyeing him
cautiously.

Thejerknodded,hiseyesregisteringnoinitialrecollectionofher.Butsuddenlythey

narrowedandhetiltedhisheadtotheside.“Wait…havewemet?”

“No,”saidElizabethquickly,avertinghergaze.

“Hmm,”hehummed.“Sure?Youlookalittlefamiliar.AreyoufriendswithMadel—”

“No,”shesaidagain,hervoicesharpasshemusteredhercourageandlookedintohis

eyes.“Idon’tknowyou.”

“Huh.Okay.”

“Ladies,”saidAmity,stillgrinninglikeapuppyatJane,“let’ssharethecottage!We

stayatButternuteveryyear!It’sgottwobedrooms—oneupstairsandonedown,and—”

Elizabeth turned back to Tom. “The Mount at Lake Placid. That room’s still

available?”

Tomdroppedhisglancetohiscomputerscreen.“Yes,umm—”

“Bets,”saidJane,turningherbacktotheAtwellbrothersandreachingforhersister’s

arm.ShesearchedElizabeth’sface,hervoicebeseeching.“Let’sstayhere.Please?”

Skittering her eyes to the Atwells for a moment, Elizabeth turned back to Jane. “We

reallydon’tknowthem.”

“WehavelotsoffriendsincommonandIknowAmity,”saidJane,agentlepleading

inherhoney-browneyes.“Iwanttostayhere.Please,Bets.Forme?”

A few minutes ago Elizabeth couldn’t think of a single reason to say yes. But now,

here it was. How could she say no? It was clear that Jane and Amity had some kind of
history,somesortofunfinishedbusinessmaybe.Herheartsoftenedassheprocessedthe
hopeful, pleading look in her little sister’s eyes. Elizabeth loved Jane more than anyone
else in the whole world. She’d do anything for Jane…even put up with a massive,
egotisticaljerkwho’doncemadeElizabethfeeloneinchtall.

ShelookedoverJane’sshoulderatMerit,whostaredbackatherwithalookofblatant

annoyance,willingherwithhiseyestorefuse.

ButElizabethwasn’tanadolescentfatasswithacrushanymore.Nordidshegooutof

her way to please people who didn’t care about her. She could count on one hand the
peoplesheloved,andtheoneshelovedbestwantedtostaywiththeAtwellsatButternut
Cottage.

LookingupatMerit’sfaceagain,awashinirritation,shecockedherheadtotheside,

thengrinnedathersister.They’dhavetheirownbedroom,right?Shecouldmakestaying
withtheAtwells—especiallyifitmeantpleasinghersisterandannoyingMeritAtwell—
work.

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” said Elizabeth, taking a great deal of pleasure in

Merit’s wince and squirm combination. Oh, he really didn’t want company, did he? Her
hearthardenedtowardhimevenmore.Well,toobadforyou…

“Really,”saidAmity,lickinghislipsanddartingaglancetoJanebeforelockingeyes

withElizabeth.“It’snoimposition.Notatall.It’sourpleasure.”

Ha!ItwasanythingbutMeritAtwell’s“pleasure.”

Turning to the jerk, she locked her brown eyes with his blue and gave him her

sweetest,stickiest,mostinsinceresmile.

“Youknow?It’sagreatidea,Amity.We’djustlovetoshare.”

AVAILBLEATYOURE-BOOKRETAILER

DECEMBER11,2017!

amodernfairytale

belovedfairytales♥modernlovestories

TheVixenandtheVet

2015RITA®Finalist

2015Winner,TheKindleBookAwards

(inspiredbyBeauty&theBeast)

NeverLetYouGo

(inspiredbyHansel&Gretel)

Ginger’sHeart

(inspiredbyLittleRedRidingHood)

DarkSexyKnight

2017Finalist,TheKindleBookAwards

(inspiredbyCamelot)

Don’tSpeak

2017InternationalBookAwardsFinalist

(inspiredbyTheLittleMermaid)

ShearHeaven

(partoftheRoyallyMineanthology)

(inspiredbyRapunzel)

FragmentsofAsh

(inspiredbyCinderella)

Coming2018

SwanSong

(inspiredbyTheUglyDuckling)

Coming2018

AtFirstSight

(inspiredbyAladdin)

Coming2018

Forannouncementsaboutupcoming

amodernfairytale

releases,besuretosignupforKaty’snewsletterat

http://www.katyregnery.com

ALSOAVAILABLE

fromKatyRegnery

amodernfairytale

(Acollection)

TheVixenandtheVet

NeverLetYouGo

Ginger’sHeart

DarkSexyKnight

Don’tSpeak

ShearHeaven

FragmentsofAsh

Coming2018

SwanSong

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AtFirstSight

Coming2018

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BreakingUpwithBarrett

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ProposingtoPreston

CrazyaboutCameron

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ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

NEWYORKTIMESandUSATodaybestsellingauthorKatyRegnerystartedherwritingcareerbyenrollingina

shortstoryclassinJanuary2012.Oneyearlater,shesignedherfirstcontract,andKaty’sfirstnovelwaspublishedin
September2013.

Thirtybookslater,KatyclaimsauthorshipofthemultititledNewYorkTimesandUSATodaybestsellingBlueberry

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Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015 and won the

2015 Kindle Book Award for romance. Katy’s boxed set, The English Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, hit the USA
Todaybestsellerlistin2015,andherChristmasstory,MarryingMr.English,appearedonthelistaweeklater.InMay
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In 2016 Katy signed a print-only agreement with Spencer Hill Press. As a result, her Blueberry Lane paperback

bookswillnowbedistributedtobrick-and-mortarbookstoresallovertheUnitedStates.

KatylivesintherelativewildsofnorthernFairfieldCounty,Connecticut,whereherwritingroomlooksoutatthe

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SignupforKaty’snewslettertoday:www.katyregnery.com!

Upcoming(2018)Projects

FragmentsofAsh,amodernfairytale

SwanSong,amodernfairytale

AtFirstSight,amodernfairytalenovella

Everlasting,astandaloneparanormalepic

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