The Prince's Bride (Modern Fairytales 2)

Or to kiss her. Definitely not that.

She sucked in a deep breath, meeting his eyes. “What?”

“Maybe the world isn’t so black and white after all.”

After a moment of silence, she tightened her grip on her pink rose, pressed her mouth into a tight line, and nodded. “Maybe it’s not.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen?

Was a win.

Chapter Twelve

Three days later, the town car stopped in front of a huge, domed structure, and Alicia sucked in a deep breath as she tried to figure out where he was taking her this time. For the past couple of days, Leo had been taking her all over his country. They’d gone to see a ballet, which had made her ache to get back on stage, and then to a mountain to watch the sun set, where she’d felt like she was literally on top of the world again.

And through it all, Leo was a perfect gentleman, a great man, an even greater prince, and he was killing her with his kindness. The thing was, she could absolutely see he was different from the boy he’d once been. But she was a changed woman, too.

One who didn’t want to get hurt again.

Every time he took her somewhere, or spent time with her, or made her laugh, he got closer to creeping back into her heart. Her nerves were already wrecked from being in a car with him yet again, and he kept telling her funny jokes that made her laugh.

Maybe a little bit too enthusiastically?

“And then the queen said, ‘Honestly, Henry. I would have thought a king would be far too mature for pants covered in ducks in the bathtub.”

“Oh my God.” She laughed, covering her mouth. “Were they wearing shower caps?”

“Pink ones,” he said, grinning.

“Oh, dear.”

“And he had a matching button-up shirt.”

She lost it, laughing harder than she could remember laughing. The story of the time his father had been caught unawares by the queen had been bothering her last night, so she finally asked for the rest of it—and was quite happy to have done so. “What did he say?”

“He straightened his spine and said, ‘Maybe you’ve been married to the wrong type of king, then, Your Majesty.’”

Shaking her head, she chuckled, glancing out the window. “I can totally picture him saying that, too.” Being with him was just like that last time—fun, a rollercoaster ride up to the top of the hill. But the thing about going up?

You inevitably had to come back down.

If she fell for him like the stupid girl she’d once been, what good would come of it? He’d blown into her life once, stolen her heart, and then left just as abruptly. And he would do it again, if given the opportunity.

She had no doubt of that.

He opened the car door and stood, reaching a hand down to help her out. The second she was upright, she pulled free and wiped her hands on her thighs, her fingers still tingling where he’d touched her. It was ridiculous how much of an effect his skin had on hers. “Where are we?”

“The Royal Arena.”

She stared up at the building. They were at the back door, so there was no hint as to what was inside. “What are we doing?”

“Come with me, and you’ll find out.” He started for the door, and she followed him closely, her heart racing with excitement at this newest adventure, no matter how many times she reminded herself not to fall into his trap again. “Are you still a size six shoe?”

She stopped in her tracks. “You remember my shoe size?”

“I remember everything you ever told me,” he said softly. Hesitantly, he entwined his fingers with hers and offered her a small smile. “Size six?”

Holding onto him felt good.