The Prince's Christmas Vow

She glanced at the clock on the wall. A frown tugged at her mouth. It’d been almost two hours since he had called. Where was he?

As though in answer to her thoughts, there was a knock at the door. When it swung open, Demetrius strode in with a reserved look on his face. “Sorry I’m later than I planned. I had something to deal with.”

“Uh, no problem.” She wasn’t about to admit that she’d been dying of curiosity to know what he wanted to discuss. A glance at the clock revealed that it was approaching lunchtime. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Before we get to that, I have something to show you.” His face was devoid of emotion, but his voice held a serious note.

“Is something wrong?”

He paused as though trying to choose his words carefully. “Depends on how you look at it.”

Her whole body tensed. “Quit dragging it out. Just tell me.”

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it out to her. “This appeared in this morning’s paper.”

She hastily unfolded the clipping. There in color was a photo of her and Demetrius getting into his car outside her apartment building. The breath trapped in her lungs. Her mind raced with all of the ramifications.

“Zoe, relax. It’s not as bad as you’re thinking. Between your sunglasses, your cap and having your head lowered, no one can make out that it’s you. Most of your face is hidden.”

Zoe let out the pent-up breath. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What? But we have to do something otherwise people will think—they’ll think—”

“Nothing. There’s nothing going on in the photo except I am helping someone into my car. Your name was not mentioned. Just a blurb about me being out and about in the city.”

She turned to him, searching his face for answers. “This was taken by that creepy reporter, wasn’t it?”

Demetrius rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s my suspicion, but so far the paper is guarding their source. Don’t worry. Now that you’ve moved in here, we shouldn’t have any further problems with that photographer. But when we are out in public, we’re going to have to be extra careful.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

He hesitated. Then deciding that he’d made his point, he changed the subject. “Now about lunch, I’ll give the kitchen staff a call and have them send over something. What do you want?”

“Actually, I was thinking of making a salad.” When he reached for his phone, she added, “You don’t need to call anyone. The fridge is fully stocked. There’s even some fresh shrimp.”

“Sounds good.” His facial expression said otherwise.

“If you want something else, that’s fine.”

He shook his head. “It’s not the menu.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It’s just that I’m not exactly good in the kitchen. I haven’t had much experience there.”

“No problem. You can watch.”

He started to roll up his sleeves. “And have you do all of the work? I don’t think so. You just tell me what needs done and I’ll do my best.”

They moved to the kitchen and raided the refrigerator of all the fresh vegetables. Demetrius washed while she chopped. The truth was Zoe didn’t have an appetite, no matter how colorful the vegetables or plump the already cooked shrimp.

Demetrius wasn’t the problem—not exactly. It was what had happened a couple of nights ago that was bothering her. It’d be so easy to get caught up in more kisses, in more of this domestic bliss. But she knew the truth—the fact that she had a fifty-fifty chance of ending up like her mother. And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—put Demetrius through that. A sharp pain started in her finger and rushed up her arm.

“Hey, you’re bleeding.”

Zoe glanced down to see she’d nicked the tip of her thumb. She muttered under her breath as she moved to the sink to rinse it off.

“I’ll get a bandage.” Demetrius rushed out of the room. He quickly returned and played the concerned doctor as he applied antibiotic cream and a bandage. “Now sit down and I’ll finish.”

Grudgingly, she did as instructed.

He grabbed a tomato and started to slice it. “Were you able to work on your sketch?”

Really? He thought she’d be calm enough to be creative. “Umm...no.”

“You know, I never did get to see any of your sketches. And you did say I’d get to choose one.”