The Prince's Christmas Vow

The small group stopped in front of the mural. Her stomach quivered with nerves. She gazed up at her greatest creation and hoped it would be well received. Her gaze settled on the deepening blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. Midway down was the bright orange and yellow of the sun as it started its descent into the horizon. Brilliant shades of orange, pink and purple streaked out along the sea. The calmness of the dark blue water reflected the sun’s rays as the tide gently rolled into a sandy shore. Upon the beach rested a maroon sailboat with a yellow stripe. She’d wanted to give the impression that it was waiting for someone to sail away in it—away from their troubles—to a place of peace and tranquility.

After answering countless questions, more about what it was like to work with the prince than her artwork or her interior design work, Ms. Russo and the photographer departed. Zoe sighed in relief. At last her lungs could fully expand as her tense muscles loosened up. She would definitely not make a good spokesperson like Annabelle. Not a chance.

Zoe turned to him. “I wish you’d have given a little warning about the interview. I’m a mess.” She ran a hand over her hair. “Those pictures are going to be terrible.”

“They will be beautiful, just like you.” His gaze met and held hers.

Her heart pit-pattered faster.

“I don’t know how you deal with the press day in and day out.”

Demetrius walked over and opened the door leading to the veranda. “In all honesty, I don’t like answering questions, but it’s part of my world. I guess for the most part, I’ve grown used to it—at least as much as anyone can.”

She followed him outside. “I want to thank you for this amazing opportunity, but words don’t seem like enough. I still can’t believe you went to all of this bother for me.”

“What bother?” He acted so innocent, but she knew he went out of his way just for her. “Oh, you mean arranging for Residenza del Rosa to get some additional coverage? I should be the one thanking you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t dismiss this. Admit it. This wasn’t about the center. You didn’t even mention it.”

His dark brows scrunched together. “I didn’t? Surely I must have.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his antics. “Afraid not. Maybe if you run after them, you can catch them.”

“Hmm...I don’t think so. I’d rather stay here.” He gazed deeply into her eyes.

“You would?” Her voice came out much softer and sultrier than she’d intended.

He nodded, stepping closer.

“I don’t know why you did what you did today, but grazie. You don’t know what this means to me.”

His hand slipped around her waist. “Does this mean that you’re not upset about the impromptu interview?”

She lifted onto her tiptoes and leaned forward. “If I was mad, would I do this?”

Her lips met his. At first, he didn’t move as though he were afraid of scaring her away. She slipped her arms up over his shoulders and moved her mouth over his. That’s all it took for him to reach out and pull her close.

Her heart swelled with love. She knew that this thing—them together—couldn’t last forever, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. No one had ever done something so sweet, so thoughtful for her.

She reveled in the fact that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. The kiss went on and on. She didn’t want it to end. She knew when it did that they’d crash back into reality. And indulging in a passionate kiss with the Crown Prince of Mirraccino was not part of her reality—even if they were secretly married.

The sound of footsteps caused them to spring apart. Her gaze met his and she knew that if they’d been back at the beach house things wouldn’t have ended there. And if she was honest, she didn’t want it to end. The more of Demetrius she had, the more she wanted.

He straightened his shirt. “I’ll go inside and see who that is.”

“I’m going to stay out here for a moment.” She just needed a second or two alone to gather her thoughts.

He gave her a quick kiss and walked away.

A deep sadness replaced the joy in her heart because she knew that just like Cinderella, when the ball was over, she would turn back into a pumpkin. Her life and that of the prince wouldn’t—couldn’t—intersect again.

* * *

The next evening, Demetrius’s shoulders sagged.

He was exhausted.

And now he had to do something that would only succeed in upsetting Zoe. He clutched the day’s newspaper in his hand as he knocked on the door. Accustomed to coming and going without any formality, he let himself inside.