“What’s it?”
“See this wall.” She moved to stand directly in front of it. “It needs something.”
“What do you have in mind? A group of paintings?”
She shook her head. “That would be a waste of the space.”
“Then what?”
And then it came to her like someone had just switched on a lightbulb. “A mural.”
“A what?”
“You heard me. A mural would be perfect here.”
He stepped next to her. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure or I wouldn’t have said it.” Her mind conjured up all sorts of scenes to fill this blank canvas.
“I guess you do know what you’re talking about. But where would we find an artist at the last minute capable of doing such work?”
“I think I know someone who can do it.”
“You do?” He turned and looked at her. “Are they available?”
She shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it. Demetrius would probably find her idea preposterous when she told him the name of the artist.
“Zoe, are you trying to tell me that you want to paint it?”
This was her chance to put her artwork out there—to spread her wings so to speak. Besides, this was about the people who would eventually live here. They needed a welcoming, relaxing atmosphere, and she was convinced a mural would be just the ticket to pull the whole design together. “Sì.”
He rubbed his jaw as though seriously considering her proposal. That had to be a good sign, right? She willed him to go with the idea. Her mother for one would love it—if only Zoe could get her a room in the upscale residence.
Unable to take the silence any longer, she uttered, “Well, what do you think?”
* * *
Zoe pleaded with Demetrius with her eyes.
How could he deny her this?
He could feel any reservations he might have folding like a house of cards. “I think it’ll be perfect.”
She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Great! I can’t wait to start.”
Demetrius stared up at the big blank wall. A mural certainly would turn heads. But it was a huge task. The interior design already had Zoe so busy. He didn’t want her to wear herself out. “Are you sure you’re up for an additional project?”
Her face glowed with happiness. “I’m positive. The design is done. The color combinations work. The furniture is ordered. There’s nothing pressing at this point that requires my constant attention.”
“Okay. You’ve sold me on the idea.”
“You won’t be sorry. This is going to be fantastic.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. He’d seen a little of her artwork in the past from her sketch pads. And she’d also shown him pictures of some paintings, mostly landscapes. They were colorful and captivating.
There was still one thing nagging at him—the time element. He stared up at the big blank wall. It was a wide-open space and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d take to paint a mural. He honestly didn’t have any clue.
“What’s bothering you?” Zoe’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.
“I was wondering how long it’d take to paint a mural.”
The light in her eyes dimmed. “You don’t think I can do it—”
“That isn’t what I said—what I meant. I know that you’re very talented and you can do anything you set your mind to. But do you have enough time for such a large project? Do you even know what you’d paint?”
She glanced up at the wall as though giving his words serious consideration. “I know you’re hesitant to add something new to the mix at this late stage, but I have a proposition for you.”
His ears immediately perked up. So did other parts of him. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
Her eyes widened at the sound of his deep, sultry voice. “Not what you have going on in that dirty mind of yours.”
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Hey, now you’re the one throwing around propositions.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I’m glad to see there’s still some of the Demetrius I used to know lurking about.”
She was right. The new Demetrius—the proper one—wouldn’t be flirting and playing with innuendos. Maybe he’d taken the role of crown prince too seriously. He rubbed the back of his neck. “About the mural, what are you suggesting?”
“I have some sketches I’d like to show you. They’re at my apartment. I have one in particular of the beach that I think would be perfect. But I’ll let you pick which sketch I paint.”
“Okay. Let’s go get them.”
“What?” She looked at him as if he’d just spoken in a foreign language.
“We’ll pick up your sketch on the way back to the beach house.”
She shook her head. “No. Never mind.”
He didn’t understand the problem. He was willing to entertain her idea and now she was changing her mind. What in the world had he missed?
His gaze met hers. “You no longer want to do the mural?”
“I want to do it.”
“Good. But if you think you’re going back to your apartment alone with that reporter snooping around then you’re mistaken. It’s my fault that he’s bothering you—”
“No, it isn’t.”
He arched a brow. “We both know it is. He wants a scoop on the crown prince. The more scandalous, the better. And I’m not going to let him near you.”
“You can’t always be there to protect me.”
She was right and he didn’t like it, not one little bit. “But I’m here now.”
Her unwavering gaze met his. “Are you sure you have time?”
“I’m sure. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WILL ALL work out.
That was what Zoe kept telling herself.
She sat next to Demetrius in the same unmarked black sedan that had escorted her to Residenza del Rosa. Demetrius wanted to stir the least amount of public attention as possible. Although with his security detail in the lead with another black car and an additional black car following closely behind, they stood out even here in the capital of Mirraccino. She tried to reason with him to delay the trip, but he was insistent they move on this immediately.
Frantically, she tried to remember what condition she’d left the apartment in when she’d rushed out the door. Sure he’d been there before, but only for a few minutes, most of which he’d spent standing in the hallway. And then he’d been so concerned about the creepy reporter that she doubted he’d noticed much of anything as he rushed off to speak with his security detail.
Had she put away the dishes? Was there still some lingerie on the drying rack? And that basket of laundry—was it still sitting in the living room? Or had she put the clothes away?
She’d always been able to keep him away from her apartment when they were dating. That hadn’t been too hard considering their relationship had been kept on the down low. If her mother had known she was dating the prince, her mother never would have been able to keep the exciting news to herself. Not that Zoe could blame her. At times, she’d felt like she would burst, holding in the fact that she’d found her very own Prince Charming.
“Are you feeling okay?” There was a note of concern in Demetrius’s voice.
“Sure. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He studied her intently. “You know that you can talk to me about whatever is on your mind?”
Why did things have to be so complicated between them? She longed for a normal life. One where her mother was healthy and could live on her own. One where her mother didn’t get confused and frustrated with aspects of life that so many people took for granted.
&nb
sp; “Why does life have to be so unfair?” Zoe muttered under her breath.
“Sometimes I wonder the same thing. Being a prince doesn’t give me a pass on painful and unhappy moments.” Demetrius reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I am here if you need me.”
At first, she resisted the pull of his arm, but needing to feel his strength and the comfort of someone being on her side, she gave in. Her head came to rest against his shoulder. The scent of his spicy cologne taunted her, reminding her of all the things in life she’d had to give up in order to do right by the people she loved. And now, she had to be content with this platonic touch.
All too soon the car rolled to a stop behind Zoe’s apartment building. She reached for the door handle. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Not so fast.” Demetrius followed her out the door. A bodyguard leaned over and whispered something in Demetrius’s ear. “We’re clear to go up.”
“How do you know?”
He sent her a knowing smile as though he was always two steps ahead of her. “Some of my men were sent ahead to secure the area.”
“It must be tough always having to be so careful where you go and having to be surrounded by your own private army.” She truly meant it. She might not be rich, but she did have her privacy and the freedom to come and go as she pleased.
He shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m sorry that it bothers you.”
“I...no, it doesn’t. It’s just so different from my life.”
He truly didn’t seem fazed by it. Even when he’d been living life to its fullest as the playboy prince when they’d first met, he’d still been surrounded by bodyguards. Demetrius insisted that the men dress to fit in with the crowd. These days, those same bodyguards wore dark suits and dark glasses. There was no missing the fact that they were part of his security detail, and the expression on their faces said that they meant business.
When Zoe stepped into the darkened hallway of the older building, she paused and turned to him. “You really don’t have to come with me. I’m sure you have phone calls and other things to do.”
His brows rose and for a moment he didn’t say anything. “I promise you that you have my undivided attention.”
Any other time, she would have loved to be the center of his attention, but not right now. Knowing no other way to deter him from following her to the humble little apartment she shared with her mother, she mounted the steps to the second floor.
All the while, she kept telling herself that it didn’t matter. Once this project was done...once the annulment papers were recovered...she’d never see Demetrius again, aside from the photos in the newspaper and the television appearances. Still, she’d have her memories for as long as they lasted. She could only hope they weren’t snatched away like her mother’s—only to be replaced with confusion and uncertainty.
* * *
Her discomfort was palpable.
Demetrius followed Zoe up the stairs. Her shoulders were rigid. She didn’t say a word. He wished she would relax. She didn’t have to be self-conscious about the apartment building. Sure it was older and there was nothing fancy about it, but there was an air of hominess—a warmth that at times was lacking from the glamor of the palace now that his mother was no longer around.
Zoe paused outside a brown wooden door. Gold numerals read 213. She turned to him, her gaze not quite reaching his. “My place...it’s nothing fancy.”
“It’s okay, Zoe. Remember, I’ve been here before.” Without thinking of the implications, he reached out and stroked his fingers over her silky smooth cheek. “Stop worrying. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. Not everyone is born into a palace. Sometimes, I think you ended up with the better end of the deal.”
She sent him a disbelieving look. He couldn’t blame her. He realized looking from the outside in that it was hard to believe that life within the palace walls was anything but perfect and worry free.
Sometimes he wondered if part of the problem was that the palace was just so massively big that as a child he sometimes felt as though he got lost amongst the statues and paintings. His mother and father were always hosting an event or entertaining a dignitary. As a kid, he’d promised himself that when he had his own family that he’d always have time for them.
The head of his security detail approached Zoe and requested the key to her apartment. She hesitantly handed it over. With instructions to wait in the hallway with two other bodyguards while the apartment was searched, Zoe crossed her arms and stared at the floor.
“I forget that you aren’t used to these security procedures.” Feeling as though he owed her a better explanation, he went on. “Lately, there has been a spike in chatter about a revolt. That’s why my brother took it upon himself to keep our...” he lowered his voice “...our marriage a secret. He didn’t want to give the rebel rousers any help with their cause until the palace figured out how best to present our marriage to the people.”
“I didn’t know. No one told me.”
“No one wanted to worry you.” He almost added that he’d warned everyone to keep this from her because he hadn’t wanted to scare her off, but it didn’t matter. She’d run off anyhow.
The bodyguard reemerged from the apartment. “All clear, sir.”
Zoe pushed open the door that led into the modest living room. She stepped inside and waited for him. “Welcome to my place.” She rushed over to the radiator and grabbed some shirts and a black lacy bra. They’d been laid out to dry since clothes dryers weren’t common in the region. “Sorry about the laundry.” She moved the articles of clothing behind her back. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Don’t worry. I’m the one who is intruding. I’ll admit I’ve always wondered about your home life.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
He nodded. “You always kept this part of your life such a mystery. I never even had the opportunity to meet your mother. I would have liked that. Maybe she could have told me some stories about you when you were a kid.”
“She would have enjoyed that. Mum loved to tell stories.”
He repeated Zoe’s words in his mind. “You said that in the past tense.” He stepped closer to her, wondering if he’d solved the reason for the smudges beneath Zoe’s eyes and the pained look reflected in her eyes when she didn’t think he was watching her. “Did something happen to your mother? Did...did she pass on?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“But the way you talked about her—”
“It was nothing. A slip of the tongue.”
She snatched up a bed pillow from the old wooden framed couch with a yellow-and-blue-checked pattern. “It’s my mother’s. Sometimes she falls asleep out here.”
“Will she be home soon?”
“Uh, no. She won’t be home until the week of Christmas.”
“I’m surprised you still live with her.” He thought back to the numerous conversations they’d had when they were dating and how Zoe was anxious to move out on her own—that is until he swayed her to marry him. “What happened to your plan to get your own place—somewhere closer to the sea?”
“I...um, changed my mind.” Her gaze lowered and her face took on a pale, pasty tone. “Let me put this laundry away, and then I can get you something to drink.”
“No need.” He didn’t want to make her any more uncomfortable. “Go ahead and do what you need to. I’ll be fine here.”
“I...I’ll be back with those sketches.” She gave the area one last glance as though making sure everything was in its place before moving off down a hallway.
The apartment was tiny—much tinier than he’d been imagining. The living room consisted of a couch, a small white table for magazines and a simple wooden stand with an old television atop of it. The living area was directly connected to the kitchen. The space
was one long, narrow room.
There was nothing fancy about any of it. Everything was clean, but almost everything had seen its better day. He never imagined that Zoe struggled to get by. When he saw her snappy clothes, he’d just assumed that she had a comfy life. But it looked like she, too, was a master of appearances.
He moved over to a group of framed pictures hanging behind the couch. There was one of Zoe as a little girl. She was so cute with her long braids. And there was another of her and who he assumed was her mother on the beach. Zoe looked so happy—so full of dreams. He wondered what happened to those dreams.
He turned around, taking in the white paint coating the wall behind the framed family photos. Even the kitchen was white except for the tan and aqua tiles serving as a backsplash. When he turned fully around he noticed the wall behind the television was anything but white. In fact, it was quite intriguing.
He stepped back against the couch to get a better look. It was a mural. Pastel colors blended to create a giant conch shell resting in the sand with the foamy sea in the background. Blue skies with a couple of puffy white clouds reached up to the ceiling. Wow!
He couldn’t tear his gaze from this humongous masterpiece. Zoe was so much more talented than he’d ever imagined. What was she doing hiding her talent by sorting through paint chips and picking couches? She should be creating artwork for the world to enjoy.
“I’ve got it.” Zoe rushed back into the room. “We can go now.”
“Not so fast. When were you going to tell me about this?” He gestured to the wall.
She shrugged. “It’s just something I did for my mother.”
“Well, she’s one lucky lady.” He noticed Zoe’s lack of response. He assumed that she was just being modest. “Don’t be shy. Why aren’t you painting full-time?”
Zoe’s fine brows scrunched together as she shot him an are-you-serious look. “Because painting doesn’t pay the bills. I need a steady paycheck, especially now.”
Now? What did that mean? There was definitely something he was missing and he fully intended to find out what. “Zoe, tell me what’s going on with you. I know that you aren’t telling me everything.”
The Prince's Christmas Vow Page 9
