Page 2 of Royal Valentine

Free! I was free! Giddy excitement welled up inside me. I hadn’t been alone like this in years.

I went over to the balcony and waited until Luigi and Anne emerged from the hotel. The paparazzi were waiting, yelling my name, but Anne kept her head down and quickly climbed into the waiting black SUV.

They drove off and the paparazzi dispersed.

I went back into the suite. I was unaccustomed to the silence, to the feeling of being completely alone.

My head started to hurt, and I figured it had to be due to all the stress of what I’d just done. I looked through Anne’s purse and found a bottle of 500 mg of aspirin. I took a couple and decided to begin my adventure.

Starting with talking to that possibly cute photographer.

No one paid me any attention as I walked through the hotel, which was the complete opposite of what had happened when I’d arrived. I turned my shoulders inward, ducking my head. I was just an American tourist, not a Monterran princess. I wanted to giggle that it had actually worked.

I walked outside, keeping my head down. Out of habit. But no one wanted my picture; nobody recognized me. I lifted my chin but was struck by a strange feeling.

A wave of sleepiness hit me, stronger than I’d ever felt.

I tried to shake my head, as if that would clear it up, but the sensation got worse.

I reached the Spanish Steps and didn’t see the photographer. I yawned, disappointed.

That was okay, though. Rome was full of possibilities. Maybe I’d meet someone and wouldn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone.

The sun had almost completely set, and I walked down a few steps and collapsed. The city had banned people from sitting or sleeping on the Steps, but I was so exhausted. Like the enormity of what I’d just done was settling in and making even my bones feel weary. My parents would be furious with me for putting myself in a possibly dangerous situation. They were always so sure that I was going to get kidnapped.

I yawned again, my headache feeling even worse, pulsing in every part of my brain. Maybe I should go back to the hotel and sleep this off and start my adventure fresh the next morning.

It was the last thought I had before I passed out.

CHAPTER TWO

Iwoke up completely panicked. I was lying on a couch and had no idea where I was or what had happened to me.

I’d been kidnapped! I’d been warned about it for so many years and now it had happened because of recklessness. My mother would never let me hear the end of this.

“Buongiorno.”

A man was in the kitchen and I sat straight up. He was tall, over six feet. He had light brown hair, and slightly darker stubble lined his jaw. He was broad, muscled, and very handsome, and he had an odd accent.

He added in Italian, “I made you an espresso, and I have biscuits if you’d like them.”

Were kidnappers usually this nice? I wasn’t sure how to respond.

The man switched to English. “I’m sorry—you’re American, right? I’m just so used to speaking Italian now.”

The first thing I noticed was his accent. That Scottish burr was unmistakable. No wonder his Italian had sounded a bit off.

My second thought was about him proclaiming that I was American. I looked down at Anne’s clothes. I’d always had an ear for accents and languages—it was one of the reasons I’dtried my hand at acting when I was eighteen. “Yes. American,” I echoed.

This was good news. Because if he thought I was American, then he definitely didn’t know who I was and I hadn’t been kidnapped in order to blackmail the royal court of Monterra.

But my relief was quickly chased away by an even worse possibility. If he hadn’t kidnapped me for a ransom, then why had he taken me back to his flat? It had to be for nefarious purposes.

A beautiful woman came into the kitchen and smiled at me. She was delicate looking and quintessentially Italian, with dark black hair and perfect curves. She kissed the man good morning on his cheeks and took the mug he offered her.

The relief was back. He wasn’t going to lock me up in his basement. He had a girlfriend. But this was also strangely disappointing. Something about the man seemed familiar, and I felt drawn to him. Maybe this was due to coming down from my fight-or-flight adrenaline spike, but I had to admit that if I’d met him in a bar, I would have flirted with him.

He was heart-poundingly attractive.

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