Page 65 of The Prince's Game
“Because this is supposed to be a romantic trip for two that has nothing to do with work?”
“Your work is a part of who you are, Evan. I respect that and would be honored to be part of it.”
He was quiet a moment, studying me. “You mean that.”
“I mean what I say, Evan.” It was becoming our catchphrase.
“Careful, Miss Summers.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I might have to keep you.”
My heart fluttered at the softly spoken words. “I think I can handle that.”
He tucked my hair behind my ear again, and his gaze took on a mischievous light. “What do you say we forget the show and just enjoy each other?”
“I doubt Paul will approve.” Not that I cared.
“We’ll smile for his cameras but do our own thing. They can follow us around and capture real moments instead of fabricated ones. We’ll decide the schedule, and they can either roll with it or miss the show. I’m done playing by his rules. I want to have some fun.”
“No more scripts?”
“No more scripts.”
“I think I could get used to that.”
“Good.” He kissed me on the nose. “Now that that’s decided, we have about five hours before we land. Want to see the bedroom?”
I grinned. “Mr. Mershano, I’m starting to think you missed me.”
He lifted me into his arms and started toward the back of the jet. “You have no idea, Miss Summers. Allow me to show you.”
32
The Beginning of the End
“This location is perfect, Evan.”
It was on the water, with a gorgeous view of the mountains and a five-minute walk to the restaurants in downtown Reykjavík. The hotel building he was interested in would need renovations to meet the Mershano Suites’ standards, but it was the perfect size.
“I would keep the restaurant as is, though. It might not fit the mold of your other properties, but the quaint cafe reminds me of that place we ate at last night. It suits the vibe, if you know what I mean.”
“I was thinking the same.” He flipped through some paperwork as we walked toward the car. “About the cafe, I mean. The staff could keep their jobs if I did it that way, too.” He opened the passenger door for me without looking and walked around the car. Paul and his crew had opted to stay at the hotel when Evan told them about our afternoon plans to tour hotel properties.
It took a few days, but the director had given up in forcing his agenda on us. We were scheduled to fly back tonight for the final ceremonies this weekend. I was trying not to think about our time coming to an end, but the pit in my stomach served as a constant reminder. Iceland was a gorgeous country, and I had taken thousands of pictures, determined to remember every second. But the moments in our small, European-style hotel room were what I cherished most. Evan didn’t bother getting us a huge suite. All we needed was a bed and a shower.
Paul had gawked when he saw our living quarters, insisting we needed a room similar to the one they used for filming in Paris. Evan told him it wasn’t necessary because the cameras weren’t allowed to enter. We kissed when directed but kept everything else private, and I loved it. For the first time, I felt like we were a real couple, and that scared the shit out of me. There was no acting involved. My feelings for him were growing by the minute, and I had no idea how much of them he reciprocated. His feelings on marriage and relationships were crystal clear, and from what I could tell, they hadn’t changed. But I was too chicken to ask him.
“So you like that one the most, huh?” He started the car and headed toward our final property.
“Definitely. It’s central to the city, has a walking path running along the harbor, and it’s right next to, what is this, route 41 or something? That’s an easy drive to 49 and 1, which goes around the country, right?”
“You didn’t tell me you minored in geography, Miss Summers. How useful.”
I knocked my knuckles against his hard bicep, eliciting a deep chuckle from him. “You know what I mean, Mister Business Major. It’s the perfect location.”
“So you keep saying.”
“I don’t think you need to see the last one.”
“And why’s that?”
