The Prince's Cinderella Bride

One week after she got the call from Marie, she moved in. She had all the furniture she needed, courtesy of Rule and Sydney, who had led her down into the warren of storage rooms in the basement of the palace and let her choose the few pieces she needed from the mountains of stuff stored there.

It took her two days to make it livable. She designated half of the living room as her office, positioning her desk so she could look out the glass slider at the little square of terrace and the olive trees on the hillside. And she found a housewares shop nearby where she bought pots and pans, dishes, glassware and cooking utensils. The shop had all the linens she needed, too.

At the end of the second day of fixing the place up, when she had it just the way she wanted it, she cooked herself a simple dinner in her little kitchen and she ate on the plain white plates she’d bought from the nearby shop. After she ate, she sat down at her computer and wrote ten pages and felt pretty good about them. It was well after midnight when she closed her laptop and saw the pink sticky note she’d slapped on the top: Call parents.

Actually, she’d been meaning to call them for days now—ever since she made the big sale. They would be thrilled for her, of course. But she’d been putting off making that call.

They loved her and they worried about her. And every time she talked to them they wanted to know when she was coming home. They didn’t seem to understand that she was home. She’d tried to explain to them that she was never moving back to Texas. So far, they weren’t getting it. Sometimes she doubted they ever would.

Midnight in Montedoro meant five in the afternoon yesterday in Texas. Her mom was probably still at her clinic. But her dad might be home. She made the call.

Her dad answered. “Yolanda.” He sounded tired but pleased to hear from her. “How are things on the Riviera?”

She told him about the sale first. He congratulated her warmly and said he’d always known it would happen. And then she couldn’t resist bragging a little, sharing the dollar amount of the advance.

He got excited then. “But this is wonderful. You won’t have to spend your time babysitting anymore. In fact, you could come home. You know your mama and I would love to have you right here in the house with us. But I know you probably don’t want to live with the old folks. You would want your own place, and we understand that.”

“Well, I already have a place. I moved out of the palace and got myself an apartment.”

“But you could—”

“Papi. Come on. I’ve told you. I don’t want to leave here. I love Montedoro and I plan to stay.”

“But not forever. Your home is here, near your family. And you’re almost thirty. It’s time you found the right man and made me a doting grandfather.”

She didn’t say anything. It seemed pointless to argue.

He kind of took the hint and tried to put a positive spin on what he considered self-destructive stubbornness on her part. “If you have your own apartment there in Montedoro, does that mean you’re not babysitting Sydney’s kids anymore?”

“Yes. That’s what it means.”

“Well, I’m glad for that. You have great talent. I always told you that. If you’re going to take care of babies, they should be your own.”

She couldn’t let that stand. “I’m an excellent nanny, Papi. And I enjoyed every moment with Trevor and Ellie.”

He got the message. More or less. “Well, of course, you will excel at whatever you do.” He said it much too carefully.

That was the problem now, with her and her parents. In the awfulness of what had happened more than ten years ago, something essential had been lost. They continued to go through the motions with each other, but there were barriers, things they didn’t dare talk about with each other—or maybe didn’t know how to talk about.

She asked how he was feeling, and how Mama was doing. “Fine,” he answered. “Very well.” And then he told her that her brother, Carlos, and his bride, Martina, had bought a house in San Antonio. Martina’s family was in San Antonio, and Carlos would be opening a new restaurant there. “Of course, your mama and I are happy for them, and you know how proud we are of Carlito’s success.”

“Yes, I know.” She made her voice bright. “He’s done so well.”

“And they are already trying for a baby. A first grandchild is a precious thing.”

A first grandchild. The words stung, though Lani knew she shouldn’t let them.

After that, the conversation really began to lag. She told him she loved him and to give her love to her mother. They said goodbye.

She went to bed feeling empty and lonely and like a failure as a daughter. Sleep didn’t come. She just stared up at the ceiling fan, trying to turn her mind off.

But instead, she thought about Max.

She’d had zero contact with him since that afternoon in his apartment when he’d diapered Ellie for her while she took the call from Marie. Nine days. And nothing. She hadn’t seen him during the week she was still at the palace. And for the past two days, she’d put all her effort into setting up her place.

He’d made no attempt to get in touch with her. So much for how he wasn’t giving up on her. No doubt he’d had enough of her pushing him away. She didn’t blame him for that. He’d tried and tried and she’d given him nothing back.

She sighed. So all right. It was over between them.

Over without ever really getting started.

And, well, that was fine with her. It was better this way.

Except that it wasn’t.

And she was a complete coward who’d driven away a perfectly wonderful guy. Even if he was too much for her, too overwhelming, way more than she’d bargained for. Even if he was probably still carrying a torch for his lost wife. Even if it scared her a lot, how gone she was on him.

She turned over onto her side and punched at her pillow. But sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind thrummed with energy. With longing. She started thinking about calling him—and yeah, she knew that was a very bad idea.

So she tried not to think about calling him.

And that only made her want to call him more.

She had his cell number. He’d given it to her months ago, long before New Year’s, just taken her phone from her one day when they were out in the gardens with the children and added himself to her contacts.

She’d laughed and said she didn’t need his number. They saw each other all the time. If something came up and she had to reach him, Rule and Sydney had his landline on autodial.

But he’d said he wanted her to have it. Just in case...

Lani reached out a hand through the darkness and felt around on the nightstand until she found her phone. She punched up his number and hit Call without letting herself stop to think about how it was too late and she’d already blown it and calling him at one-thirty in the morning was hardly a good way to reestablish contact.

Not surprisingly, he didn’t answer. The call went to voice mail. She knew she should just hang up. But she didn’t.

“Hi, Max. Um, it’s me. Lani? Yeah, I know it’s almost two in the morning, not to mention you’ve probably decided you’re better off giving me what I said I wanted and leaving me alone. And I, well, I get that. I mean, why wouldn’t you finally just give up on me? I haven’t been anything but a headache lately. Why wouldn’t you just...?” She stopped, closed her eyes and let out a whimper of utter embarrassment. “Okay, this ridiculousness is stopping now. Sorry to bother you. Sorry for everything. ’Night.” She disconnected the call, dropped the phone on the nightstand and then grabbed her pillow and plunked it down hard on top of her face.

For several seconds she lay there in the dark, pressing the pillow down on her nose and mouth as hard as she could. But it was all just more ridiculousness and eventually she gave up, tossed the pillow aside and pushed back the covers.

If she couldn’t sleep, maybe she could work. Not pages, no. Not tonight. But she did need to get going on a marketing program. She could look around online, see what resources were generally available. She needed to find a website designer. And maybe enroll in a few online classes. Things such as how to make the most of social media and how to create an effective PR plan. When the first book in her trilogy came out, she needed to be ready to promote herself and the books, and do it effectively. Gone were the days when an author could sit around and wait for her publisher to set up a few book signings.

Her phone rang as she was reaching for her robe.

Her heart lurched and then began thudding hard and deep in her chest. Sweat bloomed between her breasts, under her arms and on her upper lip. She craned her head toward the nightstand to see the display.

Max.

She dropped the robe and grabbed for the phone. “Uh, hello?”

“Gerta says you’re no longer working for Rule and Sydney.” His voice was careful, measured. Withdrawn. Still, that voice had the power to make her breath come uneven, to make her thudding heart pound even harder. “And I understand you’ve moved out of the palace.”

“Yes. That’s right. I’m not at the palace anymore. And Max, really, I’m sorry about—”

“I don’t want your apologies.”

“Um. Well, all right. I’m okay with that.”

“You’re okay.” His tone was too calm. Calm and yet somehow edged in darkness.

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“You’re okay and you’re no longer a nanny working for my family. No longer at the palace.”

Anger rose up in her. Defensive anger. She reined it in and tried to speak reasonably. “Look, I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I shouldn’t have called you tonight. It was wrong of me to do that and I—”

“Not so.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were very right to call me tonight.”

“I—”

“But you were wrong to run off without a single word to me.”

“Max, I did not ‘run off.’ I moved. I certainly have a right to move without checking with you first.”

He was silent.

“Max?” She was sure he’d hung up on her.

“Where are you?” Low. Soft. But not in any way tender.

“I don’t—”

“An address. Give me your address.”

“Max, I—”

“I must tell you, I could have your address so easily without asking you. Gerta would give it to me. I could get it from Rule. And there are other ways. There are men my family hires to find out whatever we need to know about anyone with whom we associate.”

“Max, what are you doing? I really don’t like this. Is that a threat?”

“No threat. Only an explanation. I can find out whatever I want to know about you. But I would never do that. I care for you. I respect your rights and your privacy. So please. Give me your address or hang up the phone and never call me again.”

“Max, this isn’t like you. Ultimatums have never been your style.”

“My style, as you put it, is not serving me well with you. Make a choice. Do it now.” There was nothing gentle in that voice. He didn’t grant her so much as a hint of the compassionate, patient Max she’d always known.

Obviously, her sweet and tender prince was being a complete jerk and she needed to hang up and forget about him. Let it be and let him go. Move on. It was only what she’d repeatedly told him she wanted.

He spoke again. “Lani. Choose.”

She gave him the address.

Chapter Four

Max was furious.

He’d been furious for a couple of days now. Ever since Gerta had told him that Lani was no longer Trev and Ellie’s nanny, that she’d found an apartment and moved into it.

He left the palace by a side door and walked down Cap Royale under the pale sliver of a new moon. It took him eight minutes to reach her street and a minute more to get to her door.

The old villa was locked up at that hour of the night. But she was waiting in the vestibule, as he’d told her to be.

Their gazes locked through the etched glass at the top of the door. She opened it. He went in. She wore yoga pants and a big sweatshirt that made her look small and vulnerable, her hair curling on her shoulders, a little wild, as though she hadn’t been able to stop herself from raking her fingers through it.

“This way,” she said in a hushed voice, and turned for the stairs.

He caught her arm before she could escape him.

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