Royal Package - Lili Valente Page 0,51

to happen to this kitchen in decades. I don’t regret a second of the time it took to convince my mother that it’s acceptable to hire a chef who isn’t French.

“But I meant it in a good way,” Vera continues. “Nothing cuter than baby chicks when they’re still fluffy and peeping all over the place. Here you go, your highness.” She sets a cappuccino with exactly the right amount of foam on the counter beside me.

“Perfect. Thank you, Vera.” I gratefully accept the mug, hoping the coffee will help make up for all the sleep I’ve lost since my fiancée arrived. “And how’s your coffee, Baby Chick?”

“Delicious,” she murmurs in a sexy purr that makes me wish she was talking about me and not her café au lait. Days without a concentrated dose of her company have only made the pull I feel when I’m with her even stronger. It doesn’t bode well for keeping my wits about me today, but I’m not about to call off our field trip.

Within the hour, the entire castle will be in an uproar, and this peaceful kitchen will become ground zero for the pre-engagement hysteria. The best thing Lizzy and I can do for everyone is get out of the way until it’s time for us to dress for the ceremony.

“Do you want to get breakfast here,” I ask, “or wait until—”

“We can wait.” Lizzy cuts me off with a swiftness that assures me she’s in no rush to share a meal with me again. “I’m not hungry yet, are you?”

“No.” I take another sip of my coffee and add casually, “We can get something at the museum café. They have incredible oatmeal.”

Lizzy’s eyes narrow, but she smiles as she says, “That sounds wonderful.”

I’m sure it doesn’t sound wonderful, and she’s dreading another baptism in my breakfast. But I’m not about to cop to faking my wretched table manners any more than she’s going to admit that no one, not even a sheltered princess with no sense of rhythm and a pole permanently shoved up her backside, could be that bad of a dancer.

We are at a stalemate, which means I’ll either have to starve or make a scene at the museum, but I’m comfortable with those choices. As long as I nail down my fiancée’s true identity before sunset tonight, I’m good with just about anything.

Coffees in hand, we bid Vera goodbye and good luck and walk out to the black SUV waiting in the circle drive at the front of the castle.

On the way to the museum, I give Lizzy a brief history of the city, pointing out the ruins of the medieval wall around the old town and the Roman baths we finished restoring a few years ago, creating an attraction that coaxes tourists from the casinos near the river, into the heart of the city.

I prattle on, mostly to keep her in a receptive state and off her guard, but I admit I like the way she hangs on every word, nodding and leaning forward to stare out the window as we pass various points of interest.

I like seeing the capital reflected in her eyes.

I just enjoy looking at her, period, dammit. I swear she’s gotten prettier in the past few days, and I resent her for it. For making me want to touch her so badly that I jump out of the car as soon as our driver pulls to a stop in front of the museum, wanting to make sure I’m the one to help her out of her seat.

I keep a hand at her back as we start up the marble staircase leading into the building, followed at a discreet distance by my security detail.

Lizzy tilts her head back, studying the carvings over the entrance as we pass through the glass doors. “What does that say? I confess my Latin is rusty.”

“Nature is the mother of art.” I lift a hand to the pretty older woman waiting for us by the ticket desk at the center of the atrium-like main hall.

Lizzy makes a soft sound of appreciation low in her throat. “I love that. It’s beautiful. And true, don’t you think?”

“I do,” I murmur, hoping she’ll still think creation is beautiful once she realizes the surprise I have planned for this morning. Heart beating faster—chances are I’ll have answers within the hour—I turn to introduce the women. “Thalia, this is Elizabeth Rochat, my fiancée. Elizabeth, this is Thalia, a steadfast and tireless supporter of the arts.