The Royal's American Love

by Sophia Lynn

  Nikolos didn’t look pleased with that explanation, but he nodded.

  “Tell me about yourself then,” he challenged. “Who has Philip hired to write about me, to explain me to the world?”

  “He’s hired a professional,” Marianna said proudly. “What I told you at the gala was true. I’ve worked a lot of different stories, and I’ve always gotten the most that I can from them. I have always made it a point to get to the root of things, and I take my job seriously. I’ll take this job seriously as well, and you can depend on me to do you a lot of good…wait, why are you smiling like that?”

  If Nikolos had any ire from her earlier questions, it was gone now as he looked at her with unabashed delight. He looked as if he were on the verge of breaking into laughter, and self-consciously she stopped speaking.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s you,” he said marveling. “Can you really speak about yourself at all? I am not sure that you can.”

  “Of course I can speak about myself,” she said with confusion. “I was just doing it.”

  “Oh no you weren’t at all. You were telling me about your job. And in all fairness, that’s all we talked about when we first met as well.” He shifted in his chair. “Well, well, well. Maybe this is why you’re such a good reporter and writer. Stories simply flow to you because you leave so much space open for people to give them to you.”

  For some reason, his words made her blush.

  “That’s really not the way it is,” she muttered. “I talk about myself all the time. In fact, I’m sure that I talk too much most of the time.”

  “I am not really a patient man,” Nikolos said with a grin. “And if you want to put that in the book, you are certainly welcome to. However, what I will tell you is that you have not even verged on talking about yourself too much. How about this. If it irritates me, I will tell you. Until then, I expect you to talk about yourself as much as you want to, yes?”

  “That has all the markings of an imperial command,” she said, and he grinned.

  “Caught you that time. I’m not going to talk about myself. Instead, I want to hear about why you became a journalist.”

  “Oh, that’s easy enough,” she said. “I guess I’ve always wanted things to be fair. I was a dreadful tattletale when I was a little child. I used to call the adults’ attention to every little rule being broken. Someone finally told me that it wasn’t appropriate unless someone was actually getting hurt, and from there, journalism seemed like the right choice. I like telling the truth, and I like having the truth be useful. Does that make sense?”

  “It does. And why, if you suit it so well, are you leaving it to write articles about spoiled princelings?”

  “Oh, that one’s easy. The issue with writing for a newspaper is that you have to, well, tell the truth and just the truth. It’s not really a trouble, precisely, but it is definitely something that makes it more difficult to get to what I consider the heart of it all.”

  She paused, thinking to her last months on the job at the newspaper. It was a good job, but it had left her feeling so tired, so worn.

  “There were so many stories around me,” she said finally. “There were simply so many things that I needed to see, but couldn’t. When I met…when I met my first ghostwriting client, I saw that there was a whole wide world in just one person. That was the difference. At my old job, I was trying to bring the world down to a place to make it relevant to a person. With this, I’m trying to show a single person or group of people to the world.”

  “So you want to put people on display?” he asked.

  She checked his face to see if he was mocking her. When she saw he was not, she nodded hesitantly.

  “It sounds very idealistic in some ways, but I believe that there are some stories that go beyond us. We take part in them, but they repeat themselves over and over again, until we have reached a place where they become familiar and important to everyone.”

  “What story are you a part of right now, Marianna?” he asked quietly.

  There was a resonance to his voice that made her shiver, and she thought about the question. Her first impulse was to answer flippantly, to joke about being part of a sitcom or some other comedy show. Then Marianna realized his question was a serious one, and that he deserved a serious answer. One of the first things she had learned from her time as a journalist was that you must always treat people the way you want to be treated.

  “I think…I think I’m in one of those stories about a woman finding herself. She leaves home, she is in a strange place, and there is nothing around her to stop her from doing…doing what she wants. The freedom is exhilarating at the same time it’s frightening, but at the end, she grows and comes out of it the person she was always meant to be.”

  “And love?”

  Marianna laughed a little. “She definitely finds love. She might not know she’s looking for it, or that it’s looking for her, but she finds it.”

  “And are you looking for love?” There was definitely a teasing note in his voice, and she smiled in return.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  It looked like he was going to say something else, but then the door opened and a waiter came in bearing a deep dish filled with a savory meat.

  Despite her urge to play it cool, Marianna found herself delighted by the meal. It was exactly what she had been craving when she got off the plane, and when she ate, it felt as if she had come home in a strange way.

  “This is delicious,” she said happily, nibbling on a final bite. She was too full to keep on eating, but she couldn’t stop herself from sampling just a little bit more.

  “As I said, my family has come to this restaurant for a very long time. It was always one of my favorites.”

  They talked of a few things here and there, learning more about each other as the food disappeared. Though Marianna got the idea he liked playing the part of the dissolute rake, there was something deeper to him, something that tantalized her writer’s brain.

  Just your writer’s brain?

  The jeering thought made her flinch, and she realized with some discomfort that she was treating this more as a date than she was an interview process.

  Oh be careful, be oh so careful, she thought to herself, biting her lip. This is how writers go down in infamy.

  She tried to pull back a little, but to her shock, it was already a difficult thing to do. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting to smile at Nikolos, from wanting to reach across the table to touch his hand, to laugh at his jokes.

  Her unease culminated when they finished their meal and wound up at the trattoria’s door. Night had fallen, and there was a lovely light breeze sweeping through the street. She trembled a little, and Nikolos turned to her.

  “You know the night doesn’t have to end here,” he said, and she knew she was not mistaken when she heard a bit of invitation in his voice. She knew if she said yes, they would fall forward into something that she didn’t understand and certainly could not control. She would find herself deeply wrapped in something that could not be considered professional in any way, shape, or form, and that was something that alarmed her.

  “I think it should,” she said quietly but firmly.

  She knew he had heard the stiffness in her tone because he tilted his head to one side, looking at her cautiously.

  “Now you must tell me,” he said, a note of caution in his voice. “What exactly have I done to offend you? You were warm from the beginning, then you heated up when we spoke, and now you are as chill as ice.”

  She had to laugh a little at his exaggeration. That was good. If she could distance herself from him, that would be for the best.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, I promise you,” she said. “It is only that at the end of the day, I’m doing a story on you. I don’t think that me following you out to…to do whatever it is that you are planning to do would be ideal for my objectivity.”

  A slightly wicked glimme
r crept into his eyes.

  “Oh, but aren’t we always told that the best accounts are firsthand accounts? I think that you being a journalist would make you think of that…”

  For a moment, she nearly relented, but then she smiled slightly to see how clever he could be.

  “That is a very nice try, Nikolos, but I’m a little harder to catch than that, I hope. I’ll go back to my hotel tonight, and tomorrow morning we can start on the schedule put together by Mr. Lagana.”

  Nikolos took her rejection philosophically. She had been afraid that he might become genuinely angry, but instead he nodded, seeming slightly chagrined.

  “Well, when you’re right, you’re right,” he said with a shrug. “May I give you a ride back to your hotel, or will that be influencing your professional eye?”

  Despite the wry words, there was absolutely no malice in it, and she grinned at him.

  “All right. I would appreciate the lift, Nikolos.”

  He drove a sleek, black Ferrari, a car of impressive power and smooth handling. She appreciated the luxury of the car almost as much as she appreciated the way that Nikolos handled it. He shifted into gear with a smoothness that bespoke years of long practice and natural command.

  “Are you enjoying the ride?” he asked, and she nodded with a slight laugh.

  “It’s amazing. I’m not sure I’ve been in a car that grabbed the road like this one.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow, instead of going to the charity opening, we can take it to one of the empty tracks and really let it open up.”

  “Or maybe we will stick with the schedule that Mr. Lagana set up for us. That would be good, too.”

  “Ah, I see that you have decided to be my good angel,” he complained good-naturedly. “I’m afraid that you are biasing the article, Marianna.”

  For some reason, when he said her name, she imagined his tongue caressing it. It made her want to purr, and then she snapped out of it as quickly as she could.

  “And every good journalist knows that you bring your own biases to a project no matter how good you try to be about it. I know that I am inclined to portray you in the best light, and I am comfortable with that.”

  He nodded, but she thought there was something pleased about his expression. She wondered if anyone had ever wanted to think the best of him before.

  He pulled up to her hotel in a short amount of time, and she sighed, sorry the ride was already over.

  “Tomorrow, I believe that we are going to need to be at the charity drive around about ten, so do you want to pick me up at nine? That’ll give us plenty of time to get where we need to go.”

  “Of course.” He paused. “I suppose a good night kiss is out of the question?”

  She knew what the answer was to that, of course. What good, discreet, and fair journalist kissed her clients? She also knew what she wanted, and she thought she recognized a chance that wouldn’t come again. Despite her insistence on professionalism, she had a deep streak of wild in her, and that was what took over now.

  Nikolos was beginning to look away, taking her silence as a refusal, when she reached out and cupped his chin. He turned back to her, his eyes startled, and she took advantage of his surprise by kissing him on the lips.

  It was a gentle thing at first, barely more than a touch. Then she felt the tip of his tongue tracing first her upper lip and then her lower lip before seeking entrance between them. She opened her mouth and then, without thinking about it, she found herself suckling lightly on his tongue, making him moan.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders. One of his hands curled around the small of her back. If the gear shift hadn’t been between them, she would have been pulled right up against his body. As he kissed her, his arms around her, she could feel how strong he was, the way the muscles played under his skin. Amazing that a man who was so strong could be so gentle as well, and she could feel herself fall deeper under his spell.

  It wasn’t until one hand came up to thread through her hair that she realized she had stumbled into dangerous territory. The soft motion awoke a burning heat in her, one that could overrule her common sense with a great deal of speed and force if she allowed it.

  With what felt like the last bit of her willpower, she jerked away from him with a soft cry, throwing herself back against the far door. She could imagine how she looked, her lipstick smeared and her gray eyes turned dark with need for him.

  Marianna looked up to see that Nikolos watching her. In that moment, he reminded her of a beautiful animal poised to strike but still uncertain about where to do it.

  “That was not exactly what I intended to do,” she admitted, and his laugh was low and throaty.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “as that was more or less exactly what I wanted.”

  She shook her head. “Anyway. Upstairs. That is, I’m going upstairs. Right now. See you in the morning?”

  If he noticed her stutter, he gave no sign. Instead, he only came around the car to open the door for her, a charmingly courtly gesture that made her smile. He handed her out of the car, brushing a light kiss across the back of her knuckles before releasing her.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, and it sound as much like a promise as it was a declaration of future plans.

  “Yes, tomorrow,” she echoed, and then she walked briskly up to her room.

  It was a luxurious room by her standards, a full suite including kitchen, bathroom, and living room in addition to an enormous bedroom with a king-size bed. At any other time, she would have reveled in the space, but right now, she was simply too shocked by what had happened.

  When Marianna saw herself in the bathroom mirror, she realized her eyes looked enormous and dark, like those of a haunted, hunted woman. After her shower and brushing her teeth, she found a strange comfort in her old cotton floral nightgown.

  “I’ll do better tomorrow,” she promised herself, sliding between the incredibly soft sheets. “Tomorrow, I’ll keep my cool, and I’ll make sure that I keep things professional. I will.”

  She drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep, trying to ignore the laughter that was echoing in her mind.

  * * *

  When he left the restaurant, Nikolos had every intention of spending at least a few hours at his favorite club, or perhaps dropping in on some of the famous parties that were always being thrown in Athens.

  When he dropped Marianna off, however, he was filled with a strange sense of languor. Suddenly, the evening looked…boring. It was ridiculous, of course. He was one of the richest men in the country, and his looks had been praised in international magazines since he turned nineteen.

  However, the fact of the matter was as soon as Marianna had gotten out of his car, he felt as if there was nothing else interesting in the city, and that he might as well simply head to bed.

  “Damned woman,” he said, but there was no heat to it.

  He could still taste her on his lips, an astonishingly sweet taste that made him want to pull her head back so he could drink more thoroughly, more deeply.

  “You’re just interested because she turned you down,” he muttered, pulling into the flow of traffic. There were a thousand different places that he could go…and he wanted none of them.

  At a stoplight, he checked his messages. One was from his mother, simply reminding him to be on his best behavior. The other was from a young actress who was in town and wanted a little company. She was a beautiful woman with an intelligent spirit and a wicked smile, but when he tried to think about her face, he only saw Marianna’s.

  He thanked his mother for her reminder, and he sent the actress a vague apology. He didn’t think too long on why he didn’t feel like running out to meet her, considering what he had been interested in earlier that evening.

  Instead, he turned his car towards his penthouse apartment. Perhaps turning in early would be for the best after all.

  He resolved to put Marianna out of his mind. There was absolutely no profit in chasing after her, and he decided that this
time he would play it as straight as he could. It didn’t matter how sweet her kiss was, or how silvery her eyes looked up close, or even how delicious it had felt when she had touched his face with her hand.

  No, those things certainly did not matter at all.

  Chapter Three

  “I had a little bet with myself that you would be late,” Marianna said jokingly, as she got into the car.

  He smiled at her, raising a dark brow. “Truly? Did you think I would be that disrespectful?”

  “No, never. I don’t think that you are ever disrespectful unless you truly mean to be. However, I do think you might be a little careless.”

  Nikolos winced, a slight smile on his face.

  “It is certainly the providence of younger sons to be so,” he said. “I’ve been told that I live up to it quite well.”

  Despite his light words, she wondered if there was some kind of old hurt there. She was an only child, and as a late-in-life surprise baby, she had always been a little more grown-up than her peers, a little aloof and independent. Nikolos, always the younger brother, likely had a very different experience growing up.

  “What do you try to live up to?” she asked as they drove. “Have you always felt that expectations weighed you down?”

  Nikolos shot her a knowing smile before turning his eyes back to the road.

  “I see that you are starting your interviews early, Marianna.”

  She shrugged, refusing to feel abashed.

  “You can think that if you want, but that’s only one way of looking at it.”

  “And pray tell me another way of looking at it?”

  “I’ve not done the ghostwriting gig all that long. It’s probably not a great idea to tell you that, but it’s the truth, and I think that if you want truth, you should be willing to offer it, you know?

  “The truth is that when I worked with Opal Featherstone, I tried my best to go in without expectations. I wanted to make sure that I was as fair to her as I could be, and that I could tell her story in a way that she recognized and loved. That’s what I want to do for you, too. If I get close enough to do my job, that means that we’re just going to get close, period.”