Page 142 of The Thing About My Prince
On one side of the terrace is a clear domed tent housing a table for two that’s set with a white tablecloth, plates, silverware and glasses, and a flower in a vase in the center. The whole thing is lined with tiny lights and looks like it’s been plucked from a high-end restaurant and transported here.
Farther over, in a white tent with one side open, a man and a woman, both in chef’s whites, are working in a temporary kitchen.
“What did you do?” I ask Oliver.
“Well, since your first experience in a castle wasn’tallgreat, I wanted to try to replace it with a good memory of one. This place is the closest thing the city has. So here we are, in our own personal castle, that’s absolutely nothing like the other one.”
“It feels extravagant and indulgent.” I pull my coat tighter around me.
“I did worry about that.” He rubs his chin. “I never thought anyone would hate all the fancy, exclusive royal shit more than I do till I met you. But this isn’t for show. No one will ever know it happened apart from you and me. And Nyma and Ainsley over there, of course. But they’re very discreet.”
He slips his arm around my waist and pulls me to his side, dipping his mouth to my ear. “But it’s really fucking romantic, right?”
I chuckle and rest my fingers on his cheek. “Really fucking romantic. Is this a thing they do here? Like something you can book? Or did you dream this all up yourself?”
“All my idea. I used to organize this bullshit for brands with more money than sense, remember? Now I only do it when it means something.”
“Well, I have seen your organizational abilities at work with getting a crew together for our first shoot.”
“I’m glad all the schmoozing and persuasive skills I learned in my events business finally came in handy for something worthwhile. This evening was way harder than that, though. Even after I finally got the park people to agree to it, I ran through a whole load of restaurants before I found one that didn’t tell me it was impossible to cook dinner up here.”
“Sir. Ma’am.” Ainsley approaches us carrying a wooden tray bearing two champagne glasses.
We take one each and walk off to the side, toward the stone wall surrounding the terrace.
“I can’t believe this.” I put my glass down on the ledge and wrap my arms around Oliver’s neck. “Have you peaked too soon? Blown your best idea right at the start of our relationship? I mean, how would you top this?”
He puts his glass down next to mine, runs his fingers around my hairline, then cups my cheeks. “By waking up next to this gorgeous face every morning.”
And he kisses me. It’s long and slow, full of love and desire, and the heat that pools at the apex of my thighs makes me as excited to get home as I am to enjoy this beautiful dinner he’s planned in this stunning location.
“I missed the fuck out of you,” he whispers against my lips. “I didn’t know I had it in me to love this hard, this deep, this utterly recklessly.”
“I love you too.” The words croak out of me, my throat tight with emotion.
“It’s only since I’ve known you,” he says, “that I realize I was a shell of a person before. Like an empty vessel. But you’ve filled in all my missing parts. You make me whole.”
I had no idea it was possible to feel this full of love and togetherness and belonging.
I gaze into those beautiful eyes that remind me of the rich green of the ferns at the Scottish waterfall.
“When I was sent over to meet with you about the book that day, I thought you’d be everything I loathed,” I tell him. “Turns out you are everything I didn’t know I wanted.”
How fucking lucky am I to have the man I never dreamed of and the job I never imagined all wrapped up in one perfect package? Turns out, those two things are not mutually exclusive after all. In fact, in this case, one can not exist without the other.
“Hey.” He wipes away a tear that appears out of nowhere and slips down my cheek. “Let’s go eat. That dome thing is heated.”
And with that, he takes me by the hand and leads me to dinner atop the tower of what, just for tonight, is our own private castle.
“By the way”—he nods at the table—“I already checked the vase. No bugs.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
OLIVER
Lexi yawns and rests her head on my shoulder as the elevator rises to my new loft.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have one of these guys take you home?” I gesture to Dane and Cole behind us. Cole is about to clock off for the night, and I could get him to travel in a cab with her because it’s on his way.
