The Prince's Christmas Vow

Though he didn’t approach her, there was something threatening about the way he looked at her. There was no point calling for help. What would she say? He looked at her the wrong way?

The best thing she could do was keep moving. It wasn’t much farther to her apartment. Hopefully she’d lose him. Her feet moved rapidly along the sidewalk. She refused to glance back again. She was making too much of seeing the reporter. Still, she recalled his eerie words about finding out her secrets. What secrets? About her mother? Demetrius?

Zoe rushed across the street. Her apartment building was in the next block. Though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, she paused and glanced back. The street was busy as people rushed home to their families. She didn’t see any sign of the reporter. She breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it’d just been a coincidence.

Once safely in her apartment, she did something she didn’t normally do—locked her door. She rushed to the kitchen window and peered out. She searched up the street. Nothing. Down the street. Nothing.

Get a grip. You’re imagining things.

And then she saw him across the street. He emerged from between the buildings. The breath caught in her throat. He leaned back against the bakery and pointed his camera up at her. She ducked out of sight. Hastily, she closed the kitchen curtains.

What do I do now?

She rushed to put her groceries in the fridge, having lost any bit of hunger she may have had. She thought of calling Demetrius, but what would she say? Some guy was following her? Would Demetrius believe her? And after the way she’d walked out of their marriage, why should he care?

Knock. Knock.

Zoe jumped.

She moved to the window and peeked out. The reporter was gone.

Knock. Knock.

Or was he?

* * *

It was time they talked.

And Zoe had given him the perfect excuse.

Demetrius glanced down at her leather-bound day planner. She always had it close at hand, marking every meeting and deadline in it. She impressed him with her attention to detail. He knew that he could have left the planner on her desk till the morning, but he liked having an excuse to visit her at home—especially if her mother answered the door.

He’d knocked twice but still no one answered the door. That was strange. He’d thought he’d overheard her mention to Annabelle that she was planning to stay in and make a salad—not that he’d stuck around eavesdropping. Perhaps she’d decided it was easier to eat out. That would be just his luck.

Unwilling to give up the thought of seeing her—of finally gaining some answers about the annulment—he knocked one last time.

“Go away!”

What?

“Zoe? Open the door.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the polizia.”

The polizia?

What is going on?

“Zoe, it’s me. Demetrius. Open up.”

There was the sound of footsteps. Then a pause as he felt her gaze through the peephole. Followed by the click of the lock. At last the door swung open. A pale-faced Zoe stood there.

“I...I wasn’t expecting you.” Her gaze didn’t quite reach his.

“Obviously. Who did you think I was?”

She shook her head and waved away his question. “It’s nothing.”

“It is quite obviously something. I insist you tell me.” Her face was devoid of color. Her eyes were filled with worry. He wasn’t leaving until he got to the bottom of what had her scared.

“Remember that reporter from the interview at the mansion? You know, the creepy one?”

He nodded, not liking the direction this conversation was going. “What did he do to you?”

She shook her head again. “Nothing.”

“You look awfully worked up for nothing. Tell me and let me be the judge.”

“It’s just that he’s been lurking around here, watching me and taking photos.”

Demetrius’s gut tightened. “And just now you thought he was knocking on your door?”

She shrugged.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“He followed me home from the market. I...I saw him out the kitchen window, standing across the street. He tried to take my picture, but I think I ducked before he could.”

Without waiting to be invited inside, Demetrius strode past Zoe toward the aforementioned window. This was his fault for thrusting her into the media spotlight. Now that she was working closely with him, the media would want to know everything about her. They would dissect her life, looking for a juicy piece of gossip.