How To Propose To A Princess (The Princess Brides 3)

“Nico—don’t you know that’s how I feel too?”

Once again he swept her away, filling her with ecstasy. Then suddenly he lifted his mouth and turned his head. “Another car has pulled behind us. If I don’t miss my guess, it’s one of your bodyguards taking pictures.”

Damn them, she cried inwardly.

“We’re getting out of here.” In one quick movement Nico let go of her and turned on the engine. Within seconds he took off so fast she heard the squeal of tires.

Fausta knew they were headed for the palace and didn’t try to stop him. He wasn’t used to being surveilled and she didn’t blame him for being frustrated. When they drove around the palace to her private entrance, he turned off the engine and looked at her. In the semidarkness, his eyes blazed. “Are you free Friday evening?”

Her heart pounded with sickening force. “I’ll make sure I am.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at six and drive you to my apartment, where I plan to cook for you.”

His home was the one place where she could be truly alone with him. Joy of joys. “I’ll help.”

“It’ll be enough just to have you there with me. Now I think you should get out, so we don’t provide any more entertainment.”

She looked over her shoulder and saw the headlights. “Agreed.”

He leaned over to give her another hungry kiss before she slid out of the car. All the way past the guard and up the stairs to her apartment she rejoiced that Nico had made the decision to fight for her. She’d known he’d been born exceptional and he was proving it!

* * *

Thursday proved to be a hectic day with overbooking that prevented Nico from walking over to the pediatric ward in time to see Fausta before she went off duty.

Upset because it meant he wouldn’t be seeing her until Friday, he phoned her later. To his chagrin, he had to leave a message on her voice mail. He told her he was sorry he’d missed her today because of complications with his schedule. But he would wait for her outside the hospital after work and drive her to his apartment.

She returned his call later, apologizing for not being able to phone him until now. They chatted for a moment about M

ia and Felipe, who were planning to get married. How lucky for Felipe that he could marry the woman of his dreams with no complications.

Unfortunately a permanent relationship with Fausta wasn’t grounded in reality. He knew it deep in his soul and couldn’t go on pretending something that wouldn’t happen. When Friday night came, he knew what he had to do to stop what he’d started by pursuing her in the first place.

“See you tomorrow, Fausta. Buona notte.”

“Sogni d’oro, Nico.”

When he went to bed, his dreams weren’t sweet. They were dark. In the middle of the night he woke up in a cold sweat, disturbed that he was putting Fausta in jeopardy with her family every time they were together.

She wanted a man who would fight for her, but at what price to her? If he were to ask Fausta to marry him, would she be able to handle making the ultimate sacrifice that could mean being cut off from her family? She said her father was a reasonable man, but so far she hadn’t fully tested him.

Family was sacrosanct to Nico and had to be to her and her family. Nico didn’t want her to have to give up everything in the royal sense in order to be with a man her parents could never approve of. He was tortured by the thought of not seeing Fausta in the future, but he didn’t see how they could be together.

Underlying his torment was another more immediate concern. He would never stop trying to find his parents. Nico had to have come from somewhere and felt in his gut he was getting closer to discovering his origins.

In the end he made coffee and planned out some new strategies on the computer using maps until it was time to get ready to go to his office at the hospital. He’d leave the office early enough to hurry home and get dinner started before he picked her up.

* * *

“Mmm... Something smells delicious.” Nico had just let Fausta inside his miniscule apartment in the university area of the city, the kind most students rented.

“It’s my own version of manicotti casserole, one of the few easy dishes Angelo’s wife showed me how to make while I lived with them. But the panfocaccia comes from the paneterria on the corner.”

She chuckled. “Here I thought you’d spent all day cooking.”

Now that they were alone, she was waiting for him to pull her into his arms. It was all she’d been able to think about. Instead he gave her a five second tour of his sparsely furnished one-bedroom place with its tiny living room and kitchen featuring a square table for two. He’d already set it and had made coffee.

After pulling out a chair for her to sit, he served up the food and brought their plates to the table. “I realize my apartment is probably smaller than the cloakroom off the hospital cafeteria. I hope you don’t suffer from claustrophobia.”