The Prince's Devious Proposal - Holly Rayner Page 0,20

they were in the house. “This place is amazing,” she said.

“Do you want to take some time to unpack?” he asked her. “Or maybe take a nap?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not tired at all,” she said. “I got a lot more sleep on the plane than I would have expected. I’m kind of hungry, though.”

“Me too,” Petr said. “Let’s get something to eat.”

He led her back down the stairs and into a spacious, gleaming kitchen that occupied one whole side of the building. To Naomi, it looked big enough to serve a whole restaurant full of people.

Petr seemed to guess what she was thinking. “There’s usually a catering staff that works in here,” he said. “But they’re not here when the place is empty. And I didn’t bother calling them in, because I thought we’d want it to ourselves.” He opened the fridge. “Looks like they didn’t leave us wanting for food, though.”

Naomi stepped up beside him to see for herself. Sure enough, the fridge was packed with fruits and vegetables, meats and cheeses, beverages, condiments—everything she could have asked for.

Petr pulled out a couple of packages of cheese, took them over to the counter, and began to cut some slices.

“Can I do something to help?” she asked.

“Why don’t you check the pantry?” he suggested, pointing it out. “See whether you can find any crackers? And maybe a bottle of wine?”

She went to the pantry and pulled the door open—and gasped.

She had expected to see a cupboard full of food, like the pantry she had in her condo at home. But this was a walk-in room as big as her condo’s bathroom. The walls were lined with shelves featuring all kinds of dry goods. She located an entire rack of different kinds of crackers. Feeling as if she were at a grocery store, she chose one.

There was also plenty of wine. Naomi didn’t want to come out with the most expensive bottle—that would have felt incredibly awkward and entitled—so she chose one from the bottom shelf, hoping that personal pantries functioned the same way as LA bars in terms of where they stored the quality stuff.

Petr glanced at her as she emerged. “Is that really the wine you want?” he asked.

“Is it not okay?” She felt uncertain. Maybe she had chosen something expensive after all. Did he think she was taking advantage of his generosity?

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “It’s just not the best bottle we have in there.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, maybe we can save the very best for a different night.”

He smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

They spent the following day wandering the streets of Barcelona, exploring the shops and seeing the sights.

Naomi was in awe of the architecture. They just didn’t have things like this in LA. She had always thought of her home as a beautiful place, but it was streamlined, simple, basic compared to Barcelona. The buildings here were so ornate.

“I could stand here all day and still be seeing new things,” she said to Petr as they studied the exterior of a church. “This really was a labor of love for whoever built it.”

“The whole city has that feeling to it, doesn’t it?” he said, opening his arms wide. “You get the sense that every building was important. Nothing is just functional.”

She nodded. “It’s exactly the opposite of what I’m used to,” she said. “Back home, everything is designed to be as useful as possible. Nothing is just about beauty.”

“Maybe that’s why America has always been so prosperous, though,” Petr said, a thoughtful look on his face. “There’s something to be said for a focus on utility, isn’t there?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, look at this church,” he said. “Yes, it’s amazing to look at. But think about how long it must have taken to make this. Think about how much it must have cost. Wouldn’t the people have been better served, arguably, by just building a simple structure where they could congregate?”

She laughed. “You’re teasing me,” she said.

“Am I?”

“You’re not someone who wants to do things in the most practical way possible in order to save money!” she said. “You’re the man who bought us first-class airline tickets to get here. You’re the person who flies off to Barcelona on a moment’s notice just because you’re in the mood to do it. Those aren't pragmatic choices.”

He smiled. “Well, maybe not.”

“You can’t fool me into thinking you favor logic over beauty,” she said. “I know you too well to believe that.”

“Already, you