Her cheeks colored. “I woke up early and thought about it for a good half hour before I got out of bed.” She poured another cup of coffee and added cream before coming back to the table and sitting across from him. “I just kept thinking, what if I ran into housekeeping or someone in the hall if I stayed? It’s one thing to have dinner in the restaurant, but something else entirely sneaking out of a bedroom wearing the same clothing as the night before.”
He nodded, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. “My head knows you’re right. It just . . . God, I don’t know.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Feels cheap?”
He met her gaze evenly. “Never. Secretive, sure. But never cheap, Steph. There’s more between us than that.”
She nodded, took a healthy gulp of coffee. “And we should probably talk about that, but not now. We’re due downstairs in fifteen minutes, and you need food to get through this morning’s schedule. Our lunch isn’t scheduled until nearly two.”
She got up from the table and took her half-empty coffee cup to the cart. Then, as he hurried through the selection of grapes and berries, she stuffed files into her slim case.
He admired her so much. As wonderful as Ceci had been, her forte had been charitable events, being the face of the monarchy, capturing the admiration of the people. It had been important and she’d been good at it. He’d loved the way she’d embraced his people and they’d embraced her in return. But Steph . . . she was smart and efficient, calm and collected in a crisis, and he knew she was the one who really kept the business interests of the Navarro family in line. Perhaps he hadn’t appreciated her enough over the years.
He wiped his lips with his napkin and then pushed the plate aside, washed everything down with two big swallows of coffee, drank the juice, and stood.
“I guess we should get going, then,” he said, rolling his neck.
They went to the conference room and found the team already assembled. Meetings went late, finishing around two thirty; they grabbed a quick lunch and then went on a drive up the coast. Marco did the honors, while a guide showed them the different four and five star resorts along the stretch between their hotel and Monaco.
Raoul remembered mentioning taking Stephani there on their flight from Marazur, but they had a full itinerary for the rest of the week. As they wandered through the grounds of a resort even grander than the one where they were staying, Raoul wondered if they might extend their visit by a day or two, and zip away for some fun.
And so it went for two more days. A jam-packed schedule meant no time to talk during the day, and when they were finally alone at night, he couldn’t bring himself to bring up the subject of their relationship. Instead, they made the most of the stolen hours, either in his suite or hers. He did a video call with the children one evening before dinner, and when he might have had a few free hours during an afternoon, he ended up on the phone with Sofia and then Diego, leaving instructions for issues left hanging at home.
On their second-to-last morning, Stephani remained asleep until the sun was up. He, on the other hand, had awakened several minutes before. Maybe he should have woken her, let her slip back to her room before the hotel was up and bustling. Then again, their floor was quiet. The chances of her running into anyone were slim at best.
Besides, it was the first morning he’d awakened with her tucked in his arms, and he wasn’t sure what to do about the feelings rushing through him.
It was different than other mornings. She was in his bed, in his embrace, in his life. Tomorrow they would fly back to Marazur, and they had to figure out what to do about their relationship.
Despite how close he felt to her, he realized he wasn’t prepared for his personal life to be dragged through the press. Hell, last year a single picture that wasn’t even incriminating showed up in the rags and he’d had to endure website headlines like “A new mother for the prince and princess?” Or his personal favorite, “See ya, Ceci.” That had been in huge block letters in a particularly scurrilous rag out of England.
The photo had been deliberately misleading. It had been of him and Rose in the garden on his birthday, when Rose and Diego were just finding their way to each other. It had also caused further trust issues, since Diego’s assistant had been the one to take the picture from inside the palace, and then sell it. The last thing he wanted was private pictures splashed on a tabloid. The press had a way of making the most innocent of situations appear sordid, and he had the children to consider.
So a public relationship was out. What about personal? Did he want to bring the family into the loop?
He thought of Diego, Rose, his father, the children . . . Ah, that stopped him up every time. They loved Stephani, but he’d seen Emilia’s face at the wedding, when Steph had recognized the pearls. She was not ready for another mother, and neither was Max. His son still had nightmares about the accident. How could Raoul truly move forward when his children still needed help?
And that brought him back around to his original worry. The last breach had been from within his staff. As much as he wanted to trust the people inside the palace, there was always a chance that if he told the family, it would get out into the world at large.
Goddamn his life anyway. Normal people didn’t have to deal with this stuff.
Stephani stirred in his arms, and he looked down at her face. Her dark hair was a tangle over her shoulder, and her lashes lay on her cheeks as she slept. They twitched a little, as if she were on her way to waking. Tenderness swept through him, and a protectiveness that was unexpected cramped his chest. She deserved better. She deserved someone who could give themselves unreservedly. Someone not bound by protocol, someone who didn’t have to worry about their smallest misstep being in the papers. She deserved . . . babies, and he was thirty-seven. He’d been there and done that already.
The cramp turned into an uneasy tumbling in his stomach. Was he really thinking of ending something this good? He thought back to the night before. They’d had a quiet dinner, then had finally taken that moonlight stroll on the beach. Everything had felt so perfect. But maybe that had been his miscalculation. This week had been a fantasy. What waited for them back in Marazur was reality.
She stirred again. “Good morning,” she murmured, curling into his shoulder.
His heart ached. He couldn’t make this decision now. It would have to be when they got back to Marazur, back to reality, and he could put everything into context. They had twenty-four hours to spend together, so he would put aside his misgivings and enjoy it.
“Good morning,” he replied softly. “You didn’t make it back to your room this time.”
She turned her head and smiled up at him sweetly. “I guess I got too comfortable. Or . . . you wore me out.”
It would be so easy to pretend they could stay like this forever. But they couldn’t, and that little fact kept hammering at his brain. He’d thought this week was to decide if they wanted to pursue something, but it hadn’t quite worked out that way. Instead he’d realized what he was ready for . . . and what he wasn’t.
“Raoul?” She braced up on an elbow. “What’s wrong? It’s like you’re a million miles away.”
He tried to smile. “Not a million. Maybe just in the hundreds. We go home in the morning.”