‘You would. But there’s something else.’
‘Go on,’ he prompted, angling a chin that needed a good close shave.
‘I don’t want to be a princess.’
‘Because you like your life the way it is? The notion of jewels and status, and the best seats at every event, travel by private jet wearing fancy clothes, and people bowing and scraping for no better reason than you have a meaningless prefix before your name—none of that appeals to you?’
‘No. It doesn’t,’ she agreed.
‘Greeting dignitaries you can’t stand?’
‘Horrible.’
‘What about meeting those who need your support?’
‘Well, that’s different,’ she said as if this were obvious. ‘Of course I’d do everything I could to help, if I were in a position to do so.’
‘It might surprise you to know I feel exactly the same. I’ll do whatever it takes to serve my people and to help build my country into a flag bearer for fairness and equality, but when it comes to endless banquets and court affairs, I’m going to need someone to prod me to make sure I stay awake.’
‘And that’s my job?’ she queried, shooting him a scathing look.
‘You can always plead a headache and I’ll ask someone else to do it.’
‘This isn’t a joke, Luca. Seriously. Who wants to be royal? No privacy, no comments you can trust won’t be repeated, guarding everything you say while you’re surrounded by sycophants pretending to be your friend? I’ve always pitied those who carry that burden, and have never wished to join them. Don’t forget I’ve had my fifteen minutes of fame—infamy, in my case—and it was a hideous experience.’
‘Because you were unhappy, and had no one to support you,’ Luca countered firmly.
He was right, but how could she pretend to be something she was not, and could never be? ‘I can’t just brush my past under the carpet and become a saintly princess.’
‘Heaven forbid! Brushing anything under the carpet is the last thing I’d want you to do. You can build on your past experiences, and I’d want you to bring them to bear on everything you do. In that way, you can use them to help others. I’ve seen you interact with my crew. I’ve felt your natural warmth and observed how well you relate to everyone. I can’t think of a better endorsement for a princess than people taking you to their hearts. I imagine that’s the quality that made you such a successful journalist, until your column was corrupted by someone no one, not even you, could control.’
Because my ex owned the newspaper, she reflected ruefully,as you rule Madlena. Am I heading for Groundhog Day?
‘You’re intuitive and empathetic,’ Luca continued, ‘which draws people to you. I believe that quality would in time make you a much-loved Princess of Madlena.’
‘Youareserious about this marriage proposal,’ she said through lips that felt numb and stiff as they formed words she found it impossible to get her head around.
‘Of course I am,’ Luca insisted. ‘I would hardly joke about something like that. All I ask is that you commit to a certain period of time for our marriage—say five years. That should be enough to reassure my people that I can be the Prince they need. You’d have all the freedom you wanted during that time—’
‘Let me stop you there,’ she rapped out, grim-faced. ‘You’re putting boundaries on the duration of your marriage?’
‘Our marriage,’ he emphasised with a look as steely as hers. ‘I thought that was what you would want. You don’t want to be tied to me for ever.’
Luca was as damaged as she was, Samia reflected as he went on, ‘We would need to remain married long enough to reassure my people that I intend to be the stable leader they hope for. Five years should do it.’
‘And when those five years are up, I pack my bags and leave to write a book? I’d make millions telling our story, and, of course, I’d live happily ever after.’
‘A simple clause in the marriage contract should prevent the writing of a tell-all book,’ Luca reflected out loud.
‘You expect me to stick around for five years, busying myself by putting my name to worthy causes, and never getting my hands dirty, of course?’
‘Now you’re being sarcastic,’ he observed, ‘and I thought better of you. I would never stop you taking a proper role in any cause you felt drawn to.’
‘How good of you,’ she said sweetly. ‘And when I return to the real world—with a pension, presumably, so I never have to work another day in my life—what then? I wear a gag and take up tatting?’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Luca said stiffly. ‘We’ll visit the lawyers again and sign the required prenup—’
‘Excuse me?’ she cut in. ‘Whowill sign the prenup?’
