"She married a French diplomat and lives in Paris now, so I'm going to say no."
We talked while we ate, carefully avoiding the topics of sabotage and destroyed rooms and threatening texts.Instead we talked about his time learning to cook in Giuseppe's kitchen, about my terrible college roommate who'd once set off the fire alarm making ramen, about the absurdity of palace protocols for state dinners.
It was easy.Comfortable in a way nothing had been between us since I'd discovered the permanent marriage lie.
Dangerous.
"Thank you for this," I said when we'd finished."I needed normal."
"So did I."He collected our plates."What would you normally do on a Tuesday night?Before all this?"
"Work until eight, go home, heat up leftovers, watch trashy TV while studying Italian or doing homework.You?"
"Meetings until nine, formal dinner, more meetings disguised as social events, paperwork until midnight."
"That sounds terrible."
"It is terrible.Which is why I escape to the stables whenever I can."
"To see Azzurra."
"To be Peter for a few hours instead of Archibald."He met my eyes."To remember I'm more than just a prince."
The vulnerability in his voice made my chest ache."You are more.You've always been more.I just..."I stopped, not sure how to finish.
"You just what?"
"I just wish you'd trusted me with the truth from the beginning.All of it.Not just the Peter parts or the prince parts, but the whole complicated mess."
"So do I."He moved closer."I can't take back the lies, Betty.I can't undo the damage I did by not telling you about the permanent marriage.But I can promise that from now on, I'll give you the truth.Even when it's uncomfortable or inconvenient or makes me look bad."
"Even when I don't want to hear it?"
"Especially then."
We were standing very close now, the kitchen suddenly feeling much smaller.I could see the bits of amber in his eyes, could see the exhaustion in the lines around his mouth, could see the genuine regret in his expression.
I should step back.Should maintain distance.Should not be thinking about how his lips would taste or how his hands would feel or how much I wanted to forget everything except the way my body came alive when he touched me.
"This is a bad idea," I said.
"Probably the worst idea we've had in days."
"We're supposed to be colleagues.Professional distance."
"We're supposed to be a lot of things."His hand came up to cup my cheek."Doesn't mean we are."
He kissed me with pure need.All the tension that had been building between us and in the careful dance of being close but not too close spilled over into that kiss.His hands slid into my hair, angling my head for better access, and I made a sound that should have been embarrassing but just seemed to encourage him.
We stumbled backward, still kissing, until my back hit the kitchen counter.He lifted me onto it without breaking the kiss, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him between my thighs.
"Your room or mine?"he managed.
"I don't care."
He carried me, actually carried me, through the apartment to his bedroom, and I would have laughed except I was too busy trying to get his shirt off.
We fell onto his bed together, a tangle of limbs and desperation and six weeks of tension finally breaking.
