I want so badly to reach out and touch her, to pull her against me and press my lips against hers, to learn what it’s like to hold this woman who has filled my mind since the moment she stepped into my life.
This woman who has shown me tonight that she understands me in a way no one else does.
She clears her throat, lifting the lips I so sorely want to kiss into a small smile. “The app is clearly living up to its name by giving bad advice.”
“Look—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Shall we get ready for bed? It must be late, and I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted after today.”
Before I have the chance to respond, she pulls back the flap and quickly exits the fort, and I’m left sitting alone with Toffee, my heart still racing.
She feels this thing between us. It’s in her eyes when she looks at me with that intensity and fire. It’s in the way she smiles at me, soft and sometimes almost shy, completely different from the sharp-edged wit she wields like armor in public. It's in the way she leans closer when we talk, as if drawn by the same magnetic pull that's been driving me wild.
But for whatever reason, for whatever secret or fear that’s holding her back, she’s too scared to surrender herself to it.
Chapter 21
Valentina
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, willing my heart rate to return to normal. It’s useless. The way he looked at me when the app told me we should kiss made it hard to remember how to breathe. What started as an ill-advised attraction to him has morphed into something so much more dangerous. Something so much harder to resist.
I feel the pull of him, like an invisible force field that's luring us ever closer together, no matter howhard I resist.
But I must resist. There’s no other choice here.
So what if his opening up to me the way he does has made my heart feel as though it's doubled in size?
So what if I can feel his smile in my bone marrow?
I'm here to do a job. I'm here to show the world the real Max.
But now that I've seen him, I want him all for myself.
And somehow,somehowwith the rain still pelting outside, showing no signs of letting up, we’re about to share a bed.
My emotions swirl in my chest, and I heave out a breath. Max is the son of the people who ruined my life, the people who forced my dad from the country. His family is the reason I masquerade as someone I'm not. The reason I can't simply be Valentina.
I have to remember it.
I've got no choice.
Our easy camaraderie is based on a lie. Max thinks he's getting to know Fabiana Fontaine, but she's just a character I invented to survive.
I'm Lady Valentina Romano, daughter of the traitor his father exiled. If he knew that, would he still be scrolling through his apps, making me laugh, opening up to me, looking at me the way he does?
The answer makes my chest tighten.
I wipe the condensation from the mirror with my hand. My hair is wet from the shower, and I've scrubbed off any last remnants of makeup. I pull on my nightdress, instantly regretting the insignia sprawled across my chest.Commoner by Day, Princess by Night. A gift from my Nona that at once seemed cute and funny but now? Not so much.
I find an ancient hair dryer under the sink and quickly dry off my hair, the burning smell from years of collecteddust filling the air. I collect my things and return to the bedroom.
Max is sitting on the chair, already in a pair of pajamas that I wish were grandfatherly and deeply unattractive. But of course they're not. This is Max we're talking about here. He's in a white singlet, tight enough to show off every single muscle in his possession—which is a frankly ridiculous number—and a pair of plaid cotton boxers that show off his long, athletic legs.
Why didn't he buy an old man's nightshirt that reaches from his neck to his toes with a matching nightcap? That way he’d look way more Scrooge McDuck—and way less hot off-duty prince.
“Your turn,” I say, my voice far too bright, and as he looks up at me his eyes darken. It does things to me—unnecessary, tempting things—and so I busy myself with returning my wash bag to my suitcase, placing my glasses on the nightstand.
“I've never seen you with your hair down or your glasses off,” he says.
