The Prince's Cinderella Bride

“Save the buts. I don’t get this. A big part of the reason I went to lunch with Rule that first day I met him was because you told me to get out there and give another guy a chance. You knew how many times I’d been messed over, and that I was scared it was only going to happen again. But you pushed me to see that you don’t get what really matters without putting yourself out there, without risking big.”

“Well, I’m having a little trouble right now following my own advice.”

“Just think about it.”

“Are you kidding? I do. Constantly. I just made the big sale. I’m living my dream. But all I can think about is this thing with Max.”

* * *

The apartment, in an old villa on a narrow street in Monagalla, had one bedroom, a tiny kitchen nook and a six-by-ten-foot balcony off the living room that the landlady called a terrace. From the terrace you could see the hillside behind the building, and a forest of olive and rubber trees and odd, spiky cactus plants. Lani took the place because the old Spanish-style building charmed her. Also, it was available immediately at a good price and it was only a short walk from the front door up Cap Royale to the palace.

One week after she got the call from Marie, she moved in. She had all the furniture she needed, courtesy of Rule and Sydney, who had led her down into the warren of storage rooms in the basement of the palace and let her choose the few pieces she needed from the mountains of stuff stored there.

It took her two days to make it livable. She designated half of the living room as her office, positioning her desk so she could look out the glass slider at the little square of terrace and the olive trees on the hillside. And she found a housewares shop nearby where she bought pots and pans, dishes, glassware and cooking utensils. The shop had all the linens she needed, too.

At the end of the second day of fixing the place up, when she had it just the way she wanted it, she cooked herself a simple dinner in her little kitchen and she ate on the plain white plates she’d bought from the nearby shop. After she ate, she sat down at her computer and wrote ten pages and felt pretty good about them. It was well after midnight when she closed her laptop and saw the pink sticky note she’d slapped on the top: Call parents.

Actually, she’d been meaning to call them for days now—ever since she made the big sale. They would be thrilled for her, of course. But she’d been putting off making that call.

They loved her and they worried about her. And every time she talked to them they wanted to know when she was coming home. They didn’t seem to understand that she was home. She’d tried to explain to them that she was never moving back to Texas. So far, they weren’t getting it. Sometimes she doubted they ever would.

Midnight in Montedoro meant five in the afternoon yesterday in Texas. Her mom was probably still at her clinic. But her dad might be home. She made the call.

Her dad answered. “Yolanda.” He sounded tired but pleased to hear from her. “How are things on the Riviera?”

She told him about the sale first. He congratulated her warmly and said he’d always known it would happen. And then she couldn’t resist bragging a little, sharing the dollar amount of the advance.

He got excited then. “But this is wonderful. You won’t have to spend your time babysitting anymore. In fact, you could come home. You know your mama and I would love to have you right here in the house with us. But I know you probably don’t want to live with the old folks. You would want your own place, and we understand that.”

“Well, I already have a place. I moved out of the palace and got myself an apartment.”

“But you could—”

“Papi. Come on. I’ve told you. I don’t want to leave here. I love Montedoro and I plan to stay.”

“But not forever. Your home is here, near your family. And you’re almost thirty. It’s time you found the right man and made me a doting grandfather.”

She didn’t say anything. It seemed pointless to argue.

He kind of took the hint and tried to put a positive spin on what he considered self-destructive stubbornness on her part. “If you have your own apartment there in Montedoro, does that mean you’re not babysitting Sydney’s kids anymore?”

“Yes. That’s what it means.”

“Well, I’m glad for that. You have great talent. I always told you that. If you’re going to take care of babies, they should be your own.”

She couldn’t let that stand. “I’m an excellent nanny, Papi. And I enjoyed every moment with Trevor and Ellie.”

He got the message. More or less. “Well, of course, you will excel at whatever you do.” He said it much too carefully.

That was the problem now, with her and her parents. In the awfulness of what had happened more than ten years ago, something essential had been lost. They continued to go through the motions with each other, but there were barriers, things they didn’t dare talk about with each other—or maybe didn’t know how to talk about.

She asked how he was feeling, and how Mama was doing. “Fine,” he answered. “Very well.” And then he told her that her brother, Carlos, and his bride, Martina, had bought a house in San Antonio. Martina’s family was in San Antonio, and Carlos would be opening a new restaurant there. “Of course, your mama and I are happy for them, and you know how proud we are of Carlito’s success.”

“Yes, I know.” She made her voice bright. “He’s done so well.”

“And they are already trying for a baby. A first grandchild is a precious thing.”

A first grandchild. The words stung, though Lani knew she shouldn’t let them.

After that, the conversation really began to lag. She told him she loved him and to give her love to her mother. They said goodbye.

She went to bed feeling empty and lonely and like a failure as a daughter. Sleep didn’t come. She just stared up at the ceiling fan, trying to turn her mind off.

But instead, she thought about Max.

She’d had zero contact with him since that afternoon in his apartment when he’d diapered Ellie for her while she took the call from Marie. Nine days. And nothing. She hadn’t seen him during the week she was still at the palace. And for the past two days, she’d put all her effort into setting up her place.

He’d made no attempt to get in touch with her. So much for how he wasn’t giving up on her. No doubt he’d had enough of her pushing him away. She didn’t blame him for that. He’d tried and tried and she’d given him nothing back.

She sighed. So all right. It was over between them.

Over without ever really getting started.

And, well, that was fine with her. It was better this way.

Except that it wasn’t.

And she was a complete coward who’d driven away a perfectly wonderful guy. Even if he was too much for her, too overwhelming, way more than she’d bargained for. Even if he was probably still carrying a torch for his lost wife. Even if it scared her a lot, how gone she was on him.

She turned over onto her side and punched at her pillow. But sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind thrummed with energy. With longing. She started thinking about calling him—and yeah, she knew that was a very bad idea.

So she tried not to think about calling him.

And that only made her want to call him more.

She had his cell number. He’d given it to her months ago, long before New Year’s, just taken her phone from her one day when they were out in the gardens with the children and added himself to her contacts.

She’d laughed and said she didn’t need his number. They saw each other all the time. If something came up and she had to reach him, Rule and Sydney had his landline on autodial.

But he’d said he wanted her to have it. Just in case...

Lani reached out a hand through the darkness and felt around on the nightstand until she found her phone. She punched up his number and hit Call without letting herself stop to think about how it was too late and she’d already blown it and calling him at one-thirty in the morning was hardly a good way to reestablish contact.

Not surprisingly, he didn’t answer. The call went to voice mail. She knew she should just hang up. But she didn’t.

“Hi, Max. Um, it’s me. Lani? Yeah, I know it’s almost two in the morning, not to mention you’ve probably decided you’re better off giving me what I said I wanted and leaving me alone. And I, well, I get that. I mean, why wouldn’t you finally just give up on me? I haven’t been anything but a headache lately. Why wouldn’t you just...?” She stopped, closed her eyes and let out a whimper of utter embarrassment. “Okay, this ridiculousness is stopping now. Sorry to bother you. Sorry for everything. ’Night.” She disconnected the call, dropped the phone on the nightstand and then grabbed her pillow and plunked it down hard on top of her face.

For several seconds she lay there in the dark, pressing the pillow down on her nose and mouth as hard as she could. But it was all just more ridiculousness and eventually she gave up, tossed the pillow aside and pushed back the covers.