I moved toward the bathroom, but he caught my hand.
"Betty, wait."
I turned back, and the look on his face made my breath catch.
"I know I said I'd give you time.I know I promised not to push.But I need you to know that I—"
"Don't."The word came out sharper than I intended."Please don't say whatever you're about to say.Not today.Not after everything."
He nodded and released my hand."Okay.But the offer stands if you need anything.Anything at all."
I locked myself in the bathroom and turned the shower as hot as I could stand it.Let the water wash away the stress and fear and confusion of the day while I tried to sort through my tangled feelings.
I was angry at Archie for lying to me about the marriage.Grateful to him for protecting me and investigating the sabotage.Attracted to him despite myself.Confused about which version of him was real, the prince or Peter or some combination of both.
And underneath all of that, a truth I didn't want to acknowledge: I was falling for him.Had been falling for him since the stables, had kept falling even through the anger and hurt and betrayals.Was falling still, despite every rational reason to guard my heart.
Which made me either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.
Probably stupid.
I was toweling off when I heard voices in the main apartment.Archie talking to someone, Roberto, maybe, or Captain Steiner.The investigation continuing even though we were all exhausted.
I dressed in comfortable clothes, leggings and an oversized sweatshirt I'd stolen from the palace laundry because it was soft and warm and smelled like lavender detergent instead of fear and spray paint.
When I emerged from the guest room, the apartment was quiet.No voices, no Roberto, no urgent security updates.Just Archie standing in the kitchen making something that smelled amazing.
"You cook?"I asked.
He turned, looking almost embarrassed."Giuseppe taught me.I find it relaxing."
"What are you making?"
"Risotto.I thought we could both use some comfort food."
"We're eating together?"
"Unless you'd prefer to eat alone.I can bring a plate to your room if you want."
I should say yes.Should maintain the boundaries I'd been trying to establish.Should eat alone and keep my distance and not let myself soften toward him just because he was cooking me dinner.
"Risotto sounds good," I said instead.
We ate at the small table in his kitchen, nothing like the formal dining rooms where we usually had meals.This felt almost normal.Just two people sharing food and conversation at the end of a difficult day.
"This is really good," I said, surprised.
"Don't sound so shocked.I'm capable of basic cooking."
"I've seen you eat.Your definition of basic is probably Michelin-starred."
"Giuseppe's definition is Michelin-starred.Mine is 'doesn't burn the apartment down.'"
I smiled despite myself."Did you really burn something?"
"Only once.And in my defense, I was fourteen and distracted by trying to impress a girl."
"Did it work?"
