The Prince's Devious Proposal

by Rayner, Holly

  “It’s configured differently,” he said.

  Naomi rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean the configuration,” she said. “I’m talking about how fancy it is.”

  “I suppose you might call my home fancy,” he said.

  “Where are we going to live?” she asked.

  “Anywhere we want.”

  “Okay, but…where do we want to live?”

  “We don’t need to worry about that tonight,” Petr said. “That’s a big question. We’re not going to come to any answers here and now. We can discuss it more over the next few days, if you want to. But if you need something to ponder for now, why not think about where else you’d like to travel? We’re on vacation, after all.”

  “That’s honestly just as overwhelming,” Naomi said. “I’ve never allowed myself to imagine a trip to Europe. And I never thought this vacation would extend beyond Barcelona.”

  “You don’t have a wish list of places you’d like to see in Europe?”

  “Not really,” she admitted, feeling embarrassed.

  “Well, I’ll help you come up with one,” he said. “But for now, enough brooding. It’s our wedding night. Come back to bed. I’ll help you take your mind off things.”

  He stood up and extended a hand.

  Naomi smiled, took his hand, and allowed him to help her to her feet. It seemed the wedding celebration wasn’t over yet.

  Chapter 11

  The morning was a whirlwind.

  “We’re catching a plane in a little less than two hours,” Petr said, shaking her awake. “You’d better pack quickly.”

  Naomi bounded out of bed and began to move around the room, gathering her things. “So fast? Where are we going?”

  “You didn’t know what you wanted to do, so I made arrangements,” he said. “We’re going to Switzerland.”

  “Really?” Although she never would have thought of it, her heart fluttered with excitement at the idea. “We’ll see mountains!”

  “That’s right,” he said. “And gorgeous architecture, just like they have here. You’re going to love Geneva.”

  “Have you been there before?”

  “Several times when I was growing up,” he said.

  Naomi stuffed her clothes into her suitcase, allowing herself to fantasize about what Petr’s family home in Geneva might be like. A massive ski lodge, maybe. Wooden features, and a huge living room with a stone fireplace.

  Whatever it was, she was sure it would blow her imaginings away. She could never have dreamed up this house, that was for sure.

  All too soon, they were packed and ready to go. Naomi felt a pang as they left the Barcelona house for the last time.

  But I’m his wife now, she reminded herself. We have our whole lives to come back here and do this again.

  When they reached the airport, Naomi headed automatically for the first-class security screening line, but to her surprise, Petr put his arm around her shoulders and guided her gently toward the regular line.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, his eyes filled with anxiety. “I thought it made more sense to just buy business-class tickets for this flight, since it isn’t as long.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Naomi assured him, embarrassed at her gaffe. She shouldn’t have just assumed they would be flying first class. “It’s still nicer than what I’m used to.”

  They made it to their gate, and Naomi left Petr to watch their bags and hurried off to the nearest fast-food restaurant. She came back with a couple of breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, and cups of coffee.

  “This is what I usually eat before boarding a plane,” she told him, handing his half of the food over to him.

  He unwrapped his sandwich. “It’s so greasy!” he said, obviously delighted.

  “Have you ever had their food before?”

  “Never. But this is an American chain, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I was sort of surprised to find it in the Barcelona airport. But I guess people all over the world do eat this stuff. Anyway, dig in. You’ll love it.”

  They sat across from one another, and Naomi put her feet up in Petr’s lap. He rubbed her ankle gently as he ate.

  “You were right,” he said as he polished off the final bite of his sandwich. “This food is excellent. I don’t know why people don’t eat it every day!”

  “Because it’s bad for you,” she said with a smile. “But we’re on vacation, so a little indulgence is called for, I think.”

  “I agree,” Petr said. “This week will be all about indulgence.”

  * * *

  “Why is it that you don’t live in Sovra?” Naomi asked her husband.

  They were sitting on the porch of the cabin they had rented in Switzerland. It was luxurious enough, with a hot tub, a fireplace, and a gorgeous sprawling bedroom, but Naomi had been surprised to find that Petr didn’t own a home outright in Geneva.

  Then again, it was a lot to expect that he would own homes in every great city. She supposed she had just assumed that he would choose their destination based on where his family owned property, but she sort of liked that he hadn’t done that.

  Petr glanced at her. “Do you want to hear that story?” he asked.

  “I asked, didn’t I?” she said and tilted her head, showing him that she was being snarky on purpose.

  “It’s just that it’s not an entirely happy tale,” he explained. “My family’s history is somewhat…checkered.”

  “Well, I’m your wife now,” she said. “I ought to know everything, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, you should,” he said. “It’s a long and complicated tale, but the short version is that we were exiled.”

  He said this so quickly and casually that for a moment, the weight of the statement didn’t register with Naomi.

  “What do you mean, exiled?” she asked.

  “We were kicked out of the country,” he said. “There was a shift in government, and my family lost power. That kind of thing can happen. But the new ruling party couldn’t abide any threat to their power, so they exiled us from Sovra.” He looked wistful. “The truth is, I can never go back.”

  “Are you still a prince?” Naomi asked.

  He looked at her. “Would it bother you if I wasn’t?”

  “Only if it bothers you,” she said. “I don’t care about titles. I only care about your happiness.”

  He smiled. “You’re a very kind person. Do you know that?”

  Naomi didn’t think she was anything special. Surely everyone wanted their husband to be happy.

  “The answer to your question depends on who you ask,” Petr said. “Obviously, the family that currently holds power in Sovra would say that I’m no longer a prince. They would call me an outlaw. But in my own mind, I am still the rightful Prince of Sovra. And I’d like to think that my people feel the same way.”

  “You haven’t spoken to them in a long time, I guess.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I haven’t spoken to anyone from Sovra since my exile—about five years, it’s been.”

  “That’s just about the same amount of time since the end of my music career,” she said thoughtfully.

  “I like the symmetry of that,” Petr said. “We were both exiled from our kingdoms at the same time.”

  “There is something romantic about it,” she said.

  He took her hand. “I’m glad you’re not troubled by my past,” he said. “I hesitated to tell you. I worried that maybe you wouldn’t like me as much if you knew I wasn’t a prince.”

  Naomi’s heart ached for him. She got up and went to him, perching on his lap, her arm around his shoulders.

  “I never cared that you were a prince,” she told him. “It was interesting and exciting. But it wasn’t why I fell in love with you. It’s not why I chose to marry you.”

  He traced her jawline with his thumb. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

  “Because my life has been more beautiful since the day you came i
nto it,” she said.

  A faraway look came into his eyes, and she wondered what he was thinking.

  “I feel the same way,” he murmured quietly, and she leaned in to kiss him.

  * * *

  “The train?” Naomi asked.

  “Do you not like trains?” Petr said.

  “No, I’m just surprised,” Naomi said. “I guess I just assumed we’d be flying to Rome.”

  “Well, the journey isn’t that long,” Petr said. “Besides, it’s a more authentic experience, taking the train.”

  “Authentic?” she asked. “How so?”

  “It’s the kind of thing most people do when they travel through Europe,” he said. “It’s not typical to fly everywhere. Most tourists traveling from Geneva to Rome would go by train.”

  “I see,” Naomi said.

  He regarded her. “You’re disappointed.”

  “No, I’m not,” she assured him quickly. “Really, I’m not.”

  But she was, just a little bit.

  The train was crowded and noisy, and the journey took longer than it would have by air. Naomi tried to appreciate the opportunity she had been given to look out the window and take in the views of the European countryside, but the rocking of the train made her feel ill, and eventually she put her head down.

  Petr’s hand appeared on her back. He rubbed slow circles. “You’re not enjoying this,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t do that well on trains.”

  “I had no idea,” he said.

  “There’s no way you could have,” she said. “We haven’t known each other that long.”

  He got up from his seat and walked away. A few minutes later he had returned with a plastic cup. “Ginger ale,” he said, offering it to her. “It’s good for seasickness. Or train-sickness.”

  She nodded, took the cup, and sipped at it slowly. It did help. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Look,” he said, pointing out the window. “You can see the Alps from here.”

  She looked where he was pointing. Sure enough, far off in the distance, she could see the shape of the mountains. “That’s beautiful,” she said.

  “We never would have been able to see this on a plane,” he said.

  “I suppose not.”

  “When we get to Rome, I’ll buy some travel sickness medicine,” he said. “There’s a little patch you can put behind your ear that will help. That way, you won’t have this problem if we take another train.”

  Naomi wanted to ask why they couldn’t just fly wherever they went from now on. What would be the big deal? Was the authentic experience really that important?

  But he was the one paying for everything, and she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She nodded and forced herself to smile. “That sounds perfect,” she said.

  * * *

  They stayed in another rental property in Rome. This one was a downtown apartment. “It’s right in the center of the city,” Petr said happily. “We can walk to the Colosseum from here.”

  “It is a really nice location,” Naomi said, remembering how they had had to take a car to get to the center of Barcelona from their estate. “Does your family not own property in Rome either, then?”

  His gaze flicked away from her. “No, we don’t,” he said.

  There was something evasive about his tone, and Naomi wanted to question him further, but he took her hand and pulled her toward the door before she could say anything.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go out. This is such a beautiful city. We don’t want to waste a moment indoors!”

  Naomi allowed herself to be pulled out the door and onto the street. Mopeds wove in and out of each other, their drivers hurrying to unknown destinations. Locals walked or rode bicycles, and tourists stood around consulting their phones for directions.

  “There,” Petr said, pointing. “A gelato stand! Do you like gelato?”

  “I’ve never had it,” Naomi said.

  “What? Never? They have gelato in the States.”

  “I know,” Naomi said. “I’ve just never been that adventurous with my food. I like vanilla ice cream.”

  “Well, you have to eat gelato in Rome,” Petr said firmly.

  “Another authentic experience?”

  “That’s right.” He led her over to a stone fountain in the middle of the plaza. “Sit here. I’ll go get you something.”

  “I don’t get to choose my own?”

  “No, I’m not going to have you choosing vanilla. This is about trying something new. Sit.”

  She sat obediently and looked around as Petr went to get the gelato.

  The plaza was full of people. Young couples walked hand in hand, clearly in their own little world. Children ran and shouted while parents sat on the side of the fountain near Naomi and watched indulgently. It was the kind of scene she’d seen a hundred times back in LA, but there was something that made it uniquely Italian today.

  Maybe it was the old cobblestone street that looked as if it had been here for hundreds of years. Maybe it was the fact that this fountain looked like an artifact from another time. Or maybe it was something deeper, more cultural. The way these people looked at each other, as if they all knew one another. As if they were friends. That wasn’t the sort of thing you saw back home.

  Naomi had to admit, she really liked it there. She was glad they had come.

  Petr returned with two bowls of gelato. “Panna cotta or hazelnut?” he asked, offering them to her.

  “Can I try some of each?” she asked, giving him her best smile, her eyebrows raising.

  He grinned. “I was hoping you would say that,” he said and handed her a spoon. “This one’s the hazelnut.”

  She took a bite. It was a rich, sweet, delicious flavor, akin to peanut butter, but more subtle. “I like it,” she said.

  He nodded. “That one’s my favorite.”

  “Oh! Then you should have it.” She tried to give it back to him.

  He laughed and held up his hands, refusing to take it. “This is about you trying new things,” he said. “If you like it, that’s a good thing. Maybe we’ll get some and keep it in our house someday.”

  “Does that mean you’re ready to talk about where we’re going to live?” she asked.

  “I assumed you would want to stay in LA,” he said.

  “I do,” she agreed. “But LA is a big place. I was guessing you wouldn’t want to move into my condo with me.”

  “Probably not. No offense to it.”

  “None taken. I never saw it as a permanent home,” she said. “Should we look for a place together?”

  He hesitated. “We don’t need to decide right now,” he said.

  “We need to decide pretty soon, right?” she countered. “We’ll be going back home in less than a week, and we ought to have some kind of plan in place.”

  “Well…” He hesitated. “We might have a little longer than that before the decision needs to be finalized.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t going to bring this up for a few more days,” he said. “I don’t want it to hang over the rest of our time together.”

  “You’re scaring me, Petr.”

  “It’s nothing to be scared of,” he assured her. “It’s just that I have some business to take care of here in Rome. It’s been on my calendar for months—since well before I met you. I had no idea everything that you and I have been through would happen in the meantime.”

  “I see,” she said. “What does that mean? I don’t have any more time away from work that I can use. I really do have to go back now.”

  “I understand that,” Petr said gently. “I expected it. You’ll fly back at the end of the week, as planned. I’ll wrap up my business here and follow you home a few days later. It won’t be a problem.”

  Naomi frowned. “Our marriage is so new, and already we have to be apart from one another?”

  “I know,” Petr said. “I don’t like it either. But
look on the bright side. It will give you time to focus on packing up your condo. And once I’m home, we’ll be able to get our life started.”

  “That’s true,” Naomi said. “I guess I’ll just plan on moving into your house once you get home.”

  “That sounds good,” Petr said. “And we’ll decide from there what we want to do long-term.”

  He put his arm around her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Everything is going to work itself out.”

  But Naomi couldn’t help noticing that he looked a little worried himself, even as he tried to reassure her.

  Chapter 12

  The flight back from Europe was as different from the flight over as any two journeys could be.

  Naomi had been booked in a coach seat. That was the first difference. She was also traveling alone this time, so she couldn’t even ask Petr why he had made that decision.

  Maybe it was a mistake, she thought. Maybe he meant to put me in a nicer part of the plane, but he made some error.

  Or maybe there had simply been no first-class or business-class seats available. That was possible.

  It was also possible, she reasoned, that she was simply becoming a little bit entitled.

  She hated to think it. Petr had been so good to her, and she loved him. Was she expecting too much of him? He didn’t have to buy her first-class seats.

  It was just that she would have anticipated some explanation—something to prepare her—if he had deliberately decided to downgrade her. But he had said nothing.

  She did her best to put that from her mind and enjoy her flight home, but it was impossible. She was achingly uncomfortable, squeezed into the tiny coach seat, rearranging her body as often as she could to stretch out the kinks in her joints.

  She didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire time. The man in the seat beside her was snoring loudly and obnoxiously, and by the eighth hour of the flight, she was near tears with frustration at the fact that he had fallen asleep with his arm on the armrest. Surely he could have tucked that arm in so that she could use the armrest while he slept!