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“I didn’t say anything about Prince George.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “I said we are due at the opera. You. Me. High singing and loud music.”
“You want to take me to the opera?” She canted her head. “Why?”
He took a step toward her. “Why not?”
“Because it’ll give people the wrong idea.” She stepped back. “It’ll make people think we’re playing along, when we’re not. We said goodbye yesterday. It’s over.”
He had a feeling she was going to bring that up. He’d let her believe she won, but the truth was? He’d only left because he’d had some shopping to do.
Not because he’d given up on her.
“No. I said ‘till we meet again.’” He grinned. “Well, we’ve met again.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it tight. “Gordon…”
“Hold that thought. You’ve now got eight minutes to be ready.” He sat on the couch and crossed his ankle over his left knee. “You’d best go get dressed, and when you’re finished, you can lecture me all you want.”
“Someone could see us. This will only make it harder when I go home alone.”
“They already know about us,” he said, tapping his foot. “They will just assume it was part of our time together. No one will think twice about it.”
“But—”
“Seven minutes. I wouldn’t want to make me late. There would be severe punishments later on.” He raised a brow. “Tick, tock, Princess.”
She made an agitated sound, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. She loved it when he bossed her around…despite what she said. “Fine. But if this comes back to bite me in the butt, there will be severe punishments for you.”
“I like my odds. That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Grinning, he spread his arms out on the top of the couch. “Don’t be late.”
After one last look his way, she went into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. He sat there, trying to ignore his racing heart, and waited. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. Take this leap. Was he fucking insane?
Yeah, he was. He was crazy about her.
And it was time he did something about it.
He’d never been one to be scared of commitment. He’d always known that someday, somewhere, he would settle down. Get married. Have a few kids. He’d been waiting to meet the woman that would make him want to…
But he hadn’t expected her to be a fucking princess.
Exactly six minutes and thirteen seconds later, the door opened, and she came out. The elegant black dress she wore hugged every curve, managing to look both sexy and classy all in one fell swoop. A diamond necklace circled her throat, and she wore a matching bracelet on her left wrist. She looked stunning. Every inch the princess.
And she could be his. Actually be his.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around that.
Up until now, he hadn’t let himself want more—not until those pompous assholes had told him he could actually have more. Helping Belle was the right thing to do, but more than that? He wanted to do it. Wanted to move to her country with her. He wasn’t sure exactly why that was such an appealing idea, but he didn’t exactly have anyone here. Didn’t have family left.
There was no reason he couldn’t be her hero.
No reason he couldn’t marry her.
“You look fucking perfect,” he said, his voice coming out hushed and awe-like without him even realizing it. But it made sense. She constantly took his breath away with her beauty. “So beautiful.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Thank you. You look lovely as well.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, standing and offering her his arm. “But with you on my arm, it sure helps matters.”
Shaking her head, she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, holding on tight. “Wow, you’re really turning on the charm. You feeling excited about slipping out of the matrimonial knot with me?”
