I just feel like we’re meant to be together. Did you know that I wasn’t even going to come to Farcliff? Theo was going to send his personal security advisor, but at the last minute I got over my fear of leaving and decided to come myself. It’s like something compelled me to come to Farcliff. Theo was shocked that I would even consider it, let alone want to come up here.”
“Your brother’s safety compelled you,” Margot smiles. “Not some destiny to meet me.” She shakes her head, running her fingers through my hair. “I just don’t want you to get into something and regret it later. I…I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’d resigned myself to doing this alone, and now…”
“Now, you have hope,” I finish for her.
Margot nods. “Hope is scary.”
“I’m here.”
“Just take a few days to think about it, Dante. Please.” Margot’s eyebrows draw together. “Really think about what it means to be with me and my baby. If it’s too much, I’d rather know now.”
I want to tell her that I’ve already thought about it. I already know what my answer will be. But the look in her eye stops me. I gulp, nodding.
“Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Margot’s shoulders relax, and she lays a soft kiss on my lips. “Thank you.”
I smile, taking her hand and leading her inside. If only she knew that every kiss she gives me, every look she throws my way, every touch of her skin against mine—it just makes me more sure that she’s the one I want to be with.
I’m dizzy with emotion when we walk back into the bakery’s front room. Luca, Ivy, and her friends the twins all glance at us.
Ivy sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly turning her phone toward Margot.
Margot’s eyes widen, and she turns the screen to me.
It’s a picture of her and me by the dumpsters, kissing. It must have been taken and posted only a few minutes ago, and it’s already blowing up.
Is Prince Dante the Father?
My heart starts thumping as my thoughts get cloudy. Nausea starts rising inside me and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.
The comments under the picture are vicious.
She’s such a slut. All she wants is a prince like her sister.
Why would he want to be with a recovering drug addict? Didn’t she go to rehab after an overdose? Her baby is probably sick, anyway.
Isn’t Prince Dante a recluse? I heard that he killed someone when he was a kid, and that’s why he refuses to make public appearances.
Prince Dante is so ugly I want to barf.
The LeBlanc sisters are such gold diggers. I feel bad for the Argyle Princes.
I know I shouldn’t care. Why would it matter what some random person on the internet thinks of me?
Somehow, though, it does matter. Strangers’ words cut me deep, just like they did all those years ago. I hate seeing hateful comments. I hate seeing them criticize Margot, when she’s the strongest and best person I’ve ever met. I hate seeing spiteful words from people I’ve never met.
It makes me feel sick.
I’m still not used to my face in the media. I’ve spent so long keeping my privacy sacred, staying hidden away, that I don’t know how to react.
Then, the front door of the bakery bursts open, and a dozen cameras start flashing. They come rushing at us, screaming and howling as they take picture after picture of us. Margot shields her face, turning to the back of the bakery and slipping through the door.
I stand there, stunned.
Cameras flash in my face. Paparazzi reach over the counter, grabbing at me and screaming questions.
It’s not until Luca grabs me and drags me to the back that my body starts functioning again. I stumble over my feet, catching myself on the edge of the door before slipping to the relative serenity of the kitchens.
Margot has her hands over her face.
Luca stares at me.
I just stand there.
Margot’s words sink in, then, and I understand what she meant when she asked me if this was what I really wanted. She wasn’t only talking about her and the baby. She was talking about everything else, too.
Am I ready to give up my privacy? To be with the biggest star in Farcliff? Am I ready to be photographed and talked about, to be torn apart by the media and stared at under a microscope every time I go outside?
For the first time since I met Margot, I’m not sure.