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She turned to the counter and found the bread. “Anything else?”
He shook his head. In his hands were two plates of pasta. “I already put the salad on the table.”
She didn’t miss how amazing this dinner smelled. Her stomach rumbled its approval. “Did you make all of this?”
He set the food on the table. “Not the bread. I cheated and stole it from the palace kitchen. No one can beat their fresh bread.”
He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down. She was tempted to ask if he went to all this trouble for every business meeting but didn’t want to ruin this moment. She knew later, when she was alone in her room, that she would replay this evening in vivid detail.
Dinner was quiet without the constant interruption of his phone—or hers for that matter. She knew why hers was quiet—she’d totally muted it. It was a habit she’d gotten into before important meetings. There was nothing worse than a creative and productive meeting halted for a phone call that could wait until another time. In the time it took to answer the call, ideas may have been lost, enthusiasm for a more daring, more bold idea may have waned. And the thing Bianca disliked the most was letting a good idea slip away.
But right now, her ideas had strayed from flower arrangements and quartets to something far more daring—far bolder. As the prince ran the fine linen napkin over his lips one last time, she couldn’t help but stare. She wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted out on the balcony.
In this very intimate setting with no guards, no family—absolutely no one to interrupt them—would they have even made it to dinner? Or would they be enjoying something far more delicious—
“What is it?” The prince’s deep voice rumbled across the table, drawing her from her thoughts.
Did he know what she’d been thinking? No. Impossible. It was best to move things along to the business of the wedding. It would focus her thoughts. And once they wrapped things up, she’d be on her way before her thoughts had another chance to stray again.
She swallowed hard. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to say that.”
Was he serious? He doubted his skills in the kitchen? Was it possible
a prince could have normal insecurities like everybody else in the world? “You’re a talented cook.”
Was it possible he was blushing? He moved so quickly to clear the dishes from the table that she wasn’t able to get a good look at his face. Perhaps it was a figment of her imagination.
Then realizing she was just sitting there with the prince waiting on her, she jumped to her feet. “Let me help.”
“I’ve got it.”
“It’s the least I can do after that amazing dinner.” She followed him to the kitchen with the near-empty breadbasket.
He placed the plates in the sink and then he turned, almost bumping into her. “I can take that.” He placed the basket on the counter. “Would you like some more wine?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean, I would but I still have work to do.”
“Oh, yes. The wedding. Let’s go to the living room and you can tell me your thoughts.”
Her gaze strayed to the sink. “I should help you wash the dishes.”
“There’s no need because as much as I like to pretend that this apartment is my space to maintain, there’s a staff that periodically puts everything to rights.”
“Must be nice.”
He smiled and set her heart pounding. “There are some advantages to being the crown prince.”
“Talk about a charmed life,” she teased.
The smile slipped from his face. “There’s a lot more to it than most people know. There are expectations and demands. Sometimes your life is not your own.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by the comment.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. How about we work on the wedding plans?”
Together they moved to the couch. Leo cleared off the coffee table and Bianca spread out her stuff. She wasn’t exactly sure how this was to work. The truth was this evening was feeling more like a date than a business meeting.
