Page 19 of Royal Valentine

“And I thought you were just a Scottish photographer.”

“That’s why I moved to Rome.” Now he sounded frustrated. “To escape the royal expectations pressing down on my shoulders. I want to live my life on my own terms, not one dictated by centuries of tradition.”

“I understand that,” I told him. “It’s why Anne is sitting in my apartment in Monterra right now, so that everyone thinks I’m home and I can have this holiday.”

“But this isnae a holiday for me,” he said. “This is my life now.”

“What are you saying?” I asked as my heart beat slow and hard inside me, my throat closing in on me. I already knew what he was saying.

This was over.

Someone running away from his royal responsibilities wouldn’t want to date a princess.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” he said, and it felt like an attempt to avoid the real reason.

Now I was the one who felt bitter. “So much for me being your dream come true.”

Shame and regret filled his face.

“I suppose it’s better that I know now,” I said. “Instead of letting myself really fall for you and getting my heart broken.”

He closed his eyes briefly and said, “You dinnae understand. It isnae that—”

“I’m not interested in hearing your explanation that’s designed solely to make you feel better.”

Callum crossed his arms against his chest. His accent seemed to thicken. “Nay, I’m nae explaining it properly and—”

“I don’t like the paparazzi and what they’ve done to my life,” I interrupted him. I had meant it when I said I didn’t want to hear his rationalizations. “But I’m aware of my obligations and duties. And I like helping people. When I visit sick children in hospitals and get to see the way their faces brighten when they meet a real princess? I don’t want to take that away from them. I love my family and my nation. It’s taken me a few years to get here, but I like myself. I’m proud of who I am.”

Another step back. “We’re in different places in our lives. Maybe if we’d met at another time ...”

His voice trailed off, and I knew a dismissal when I heard one.

Drawing on all the fortitude and strength of my royal ancestors, I lifted my head and squared my shoulders. “Thank you for today. I’ll never forget it.”

I put my hand on the door and he said, “Ilaria, wait. I’ll walk you back to your hotel.”

“No, thank you.”

“It’s my duty to see you safely home.” He sounded so stiff, so formal, so unlike the man I’d thought I knew.

“I know you aren’t interested in fulfilling your royal duties, so please don’t concern yourself,” I told him and left the church.

Despite me telling him not to, he did follow me back to the hotel, staying at a distance. Which I had to begrudgingly admit was probably a good thing, as Luigi had told me repeatedly how unsafe the city could be at night.

I was worried that we would run into the horde of photographers again, but that didn’t happen. So many concerns raced through my mind. How had the paparazzifound us? Did my parents know what I’d done? Did Luigi? Had they contacted someone for help and that’s how the press found out?

When I went into the hotel lobby, I was greeted by name by several different members of the staff and I was glad that they recognized me again. I was done trying to hide who I really was.

I took the elevator up to my suite and sat down on the couch, not sure what to do with myself. I took my purse off and set it down. I remembered the rose Callum had given me and opened the purse to get it out.

It had been completely crushed.

Which felt symbolic.

After a moment’s hesitation, I picked up the suite’s phone and called Anne.

“Hello?” she mumbled. I could tell that I’d woken her up.

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