“I think that was one of my old dresses,” Marie said, puzzlement in her tone.
When they started down the stairs, Gabby was about halfway across the dance floor, in the same spot Marie had been in when Leo had burst through these same doors earlier. And she had everyone’s attention, just as Marie had. Including the king’s. Emil was on the dais, dressed in a plain tuxedo. No spare bullshit king outfits clean, huh, Your Royal Asshole?
“Ah, good,” Emil said mildly. “We’re all here.” He raised his eyebrows at Marie and Leo as they reached the edge of the empty dance floor. “Though I can see that Miss Ricci is the only one who followed my directive regarding attire.” He turned his attention to Gabby. “Miss Ricci, will you please do me the honor of joining me up here? I would be delighted if you would dance with me later, but I have a few words to say first.”
“Hang on now,” Leo said. He wasn’t about to stand here while the king insulted or embarrassed his sister. He had stood for that shit all week, and he was done. He dropped Marie’s hand and started forward as the king extended his arm to Gabby and she took it.
“Mr. Ricci.” Mr. Benz stepped into Leo’s path.
Marie, following Leo closely, managed to dodge Mr. Benz. “No, Father, I have something to say.” She started toward him.
“Get out of my way, Benz,” Leo growled. The equerry was surprisingly nimble as he got in Leo’s face like an NCAA shooting guard.
“Mr. Ricci, would you agree that despite what I’m sure are my many faults, I am a passable student of human nature, especially when it comes to this family?”
“What?” Why couldn’t this dude talk like a normal person? And why wouldn’t he get the hell out of the way?
“Do you trust me, Mr. Ricci? Have I led you astray yet today?”
“Other than losing my sister, you mean?”
Mr. Benz didn’t even blink. “Other than that, yes.”
“No,” Leo had to admit. And really, he couldn’t blame Benz for Gabby’s disappearance. She’d managed that all on her own.
“Then I suggest you listen to His Majesty.”
“Oh, shit.” Leo cursed as the crowd closed around Marie. He leveled a death glare at Mr. Benz that finally made him step aside and Leo started pushing his way through the crowd to get to Marie. He was determined to at least be by her side as she said her piece.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the king said, which at least made Leo’s journey easier because everyone stopped looking between him and Marie and turned their attention to the front. “Thank you for coming this evening to the one hundred and seventieth annual Cocoa Ball. You may recall that traditionally, I would welcome you with my beloved Joséphine by my side.” Marie sucked in a breath as Leo reached her side. “She is three years gone, but . . .” He paused and cleared his throat.
Leo was listening to the king but watching Marie. Astonishment washed over her features.
The king’s voice broke as he added, “I miss her every day, but perhaps the most at Christmastime.” A sympathetic murmur broke out through the crowd, and Marie gasped. “But life goes on, does it not? Family goes on. Which is why I’m so pleased to be able to make an announcement today of a royal suitor for my dear daughter, Marie.”
Leo grabbed Marie’s hand and squeezed. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “He can say whatever he wants. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She turned to him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “That’s right. He’ll say what he’s going to say, and I’ll say what I’m going to say, and then we’ll go to New York.”
Aww, shit, he loved her. His brave princess who was so unassailably herself, even when it was hard. Even when it was about to cost her everything.
“I’m not even gonna make you shovel when we get home,” he whispered. “You can order me around, like Gabby does.” He was saying that to make sure she knew that she was his. That she had a home with him. But he actually got off on the idea of Miss Prim having the run of the place. Of doing her bidding. In all ways. It was going to be—
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Leonardo Ricci of New York.”
—perfect.
Marie emitted a strangled, muffled shriek and went from holding Leo’s hand to clutching his arm like she was drowning as the room broke out in cheers.
“Mr. Ricci, I owe you an apology,” the king said when the applause died down.
Well, shit. This was not how Leo had seen this story ending.
The king’s face softened. “And you, too, my Marie.” He cleared his throat. “But you’ll be getting those later.” Emil’s voice took on a more regal tone as he went back to addressing the assembly. “For now I would like to introduce you to my friend Miss Gabriella Ricci. Miss Ricci and I will be joining our happy couple for a dance, and I invite you all to do the same.”
Leo turned to Marie and saw his own shock mirrored on her face. And happiness. There was happiness there, too. “I guess we gotta dance, Princess.”
She blinked rapidly but managed a bewildered smile. “I guess we do.”
As the orchestra struck up another waltz, Leo took Marie into his arms the way Monsieur Lavoie had taught them, but she wasn’t having it. She wound her arms around his neck and pasted herself onto him. Burrowed into his chest.
“I’d rather dance your way,” she whispered.
As they swayed, his mind started to reel. How was this going to work? Where were they going to live? Was the king really going to be cool about this? But he forced those thoughts back. Concentrated on the woman in his arms. His love.
He’d fallen in love with a goddamned princess.
He couldn’t hold in a laugh.
She tipped her head back to look at him. “What’s so funny?”
“This. Us. Everything.”
“We do have a lot to discuss, don’t we?”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger against her lips. He had no doubt her mind was swirling with all the same questions his was. “We’ll figure out the details later, because that’s all they are—details. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Let’s get this silly dance done with and go celebrate,” Marie said.
“I don’t know.” Leo peeled her off his chest and locked his arms into the frame position. “I kind of feel like dancing.”
“Like waltzing?”
“Yeah, I mean, look.” He nodded down at their feet as they picked up speed and glided effortlessly across the floor. She followed his gaze and they both laughed at the picture they made, her muddy, wet dress brushing against his jeans-and-sneakers-clad legs. “You’re so good at it now.”
“Only with you.”
“Damn right, Princess.” He winked at her as they twirled under the chandelier in the ballroom in the goddamn royal palace of Eldovia with Gabby and the king and the entire country looking on. “Damn right.”
Epilogue
Four months later
Leo picked Marie up at LaGuardia in the cab. He wasn’t actually driving it that much anymore—he was busy getting ready to move to Eldovia at the end of Gabby’s school year—but he thought it might amuse Marie.
When she emerged from Customs, his nerves flared. He had been a borderline basket case all day. When she threw herself into his arms, he was a little worried that she would feel his thundering heartbeat, but she didn’t seem to notice. She just hugged him and laughed—and cried a little, too. He could sympathize. He was so freaking happy to see her. His small, strong princess. Back at the cab, his own eyes were suspiciously watery as he opened the passenger-side door for her and got her settled. When he came around his side and got in, she grabbed his right arm with both hands and hugged it.
“You don’t need this arm to drive, do you?” she said. It was the first thing she’d said—their embrace before had been silent—and her voice dragged against some tender, inner part of him, like fingers massaging a scalp. It felt so good to hear her in person and not through a phone speaker. He almost groaned.
“Sure don’t,” he said
, reaching his left hand over to put the car in gear. He switched it to the steering wheel as she clung to him. Once they’d gotten going, he glanced at her. “You better stop looking at me like that. I’ll get a big ego.”
She rolled her eyes affectionately and let go of his arm.
“Hey now.” He really didn’t need that arm to drive, especially if the alternative was using it to touch her, so he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
She sighed happily, and they drove in silence for a while. They talked every night, so it wasn’t like they had actual news to catch up on. But the silence made space for more nervousness. He blew out a breath. Actually, it was more like terror at this point.
It wasn’t like this was going to be a surprise. When a man was named a “royal suitor” to a princess and was preparing to move his entire life to the goddamn Alps to be with said princess, everyone knew how the story was going to end.
He ordered himself to chill. He wasn’t going to do it until they were off the expressway, just in case things went to shit—so he asked her a question he already knew the answer to. “How’s your father?”
“He’s well! He’s thinking of hiring a management consultant for Morneau, if you can imagine!”
It was in keeping with Emil’s retreat from being a complete and total dick. He was still a snob, but he seemed like he was trying, both when it came to Marie and to Morneau. “Well, hey, if he wants to spend a small fortune to have someone to tell him to sell his goddamned watches online, I guess that’s his prerogative.” He smiled and winked, though, to show he was teasing. To show that he was trying, too.
“And Gabby?” she asked.
“Losing her mind with excitement—both to see you and for the big move.”
“Really?” Marie asked, and he could hear the concern in her voice. He shared it. Gabby assured him she was over the moon at the prospect of moving to Eldovia, but he worried. It was another big life change for her to absorb. But she and Marie had grown close, and, remarkably, she and Emil had taken to writing each other letters. His arrived with a ridiculously elaborate wax seal. Gabby didn’t let Leo read them but assured him they were corresponding about books.
“Really,” he assured Marie. “Your father has apparently informed her that Mr. Benz is going to help her purchase her own horse.” He snorted. “I have informed her that she’s going to have to do a lot of chores to pay for the beast’s upkeep. She’s less happy about that.” He wasn’t trying to be a stick-in-the-mud, but he was determined, as they transplanted themselves into Hallmark-land, that his sister not forget where she’d come from.
“What else?” Marie asked, giving him that look again, the one that made him feel like he was the king of the world in a way that had nothing to do with literal royalty. “Tell me everything.”
They were getting closer to home. He’d gotten off the expressway, and they were inching along in traffic on East Tremont.
He could not put this off any longer. Talking to kids was easier in cars. He remembered thinking that the day he met Marie. Surely the same logic should apply to talking to princesses in cars, but oh Jesus, there went his heart again. He cleared his throat. “Nothing to tell, Princess, but I do have something to ask.”
“All right,” she said. “Or as you Americans say, ‘Shoot.’”
“I tried to think how to do this. Probably you deserve a bigger production. I mean, of course you do. But I couldn’t figure out what that would be. Where that would be. The cabin, obviously, but we’re not in Eldovia. And I didn’t want to wait. And it’s the wrong season for the ice rink at Rockefeller Center. So, then I thought—”
He cut himself off. Listen to him. He sounded like Gabby on one of her babbling streaks. This was not the impression he was going for here, at this moment that was supposed to be . . . everything. All right. Take two. “You remember when we first met? When I was driving you around in this cab?”
“Of course.” He could hear the smile in her voice. He glanced over, and sure enough, the dimples were out.
“This is where it all started,” he said. “And this is probably the last time I’ll ever drive you around in this cab.” He took a deep breath. “So I thought this was the place I should ask you my question, which is: Will you marry me?”
She gasped like he’d announced he was taking her to a special screening of 90210. Which meant it was a good gasp. A happy one.
He grinned. “You can’t be surprised. It’s not like—”
“Yes!” she shrieked. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Leo!”
His grin became a laugh. He couldn’t help it. It just . . . bubbled up and out of him. “Open the glove compartment.”
“What is this?”
It tickled him how genuinely shocked she seemed about the proposal and about the tiny box he’d stashed in the glove compartment. People had been doing this for centuries. He hadn’t invented any of this.
“Oh,” she breathed when she opened the box.
“It’s my mom’s engagement ring. So it’s probably, like, negative carats—my parents were broke when they met.” It was a white gold band with a small diamond in the middle surrounded by little chips of aquamarine. In other words, nothing special. “Turn it over.”
“AR and VM,” she said, hunching over to examine the ring. “Oh! And LR and MA! That’s us!”
“Yeah. I had us added.” He felt sheepish all of a sudden, like maybe he should have shown her before he had the engraving done, rather than assume she’d want to wear it. “I figured you have access to literal crown jewels. How can I compete with that?”
“You can compete with that by not competing with it,” Marie said quietly. “By giving me something like this, something from your family. From your heart.”
Leo swallowed to get rid of the lump that had risen in his throat. “Well, you have that, too, Princess.”
They were home. “All right. Enough of this.” He looked at his watch. “Gabby’s gonna be home from school in an hour, and then it’s going to be all grilled cheese sandwiches and nonstop chatter, and tomorrow you have your meeting at the UN first thing so . . .” He let his gaze rake over Marie’s body and waggled his eyebrows to make sure she got his point.
“So we should make the most of that hour?” She was out of the car before he had cut the engine.
He caught up with her and grabbed her hand. “I mean, yeah. While we can, you know? I’m imagining that as soon as the news gets out, there’s probably going to be a shitload of royal wedding protocol unleashed.”
“Probably,” Marie agreed cheerfully. “I’m sure it will provide hours of fodder for you and my father to argue over.”
“I am prepared to lose all those arguments except one.” Marie raised her eyebrows inquisitively as they mounted the stairs. “I want Dani to be my best man. Best person. I know that’s probably ‘not done,’ but I don’t give a shit. I’ll let your father win on everything else. You can dress me up and put me in a pumpkin carriage and I’ll sign whatever papers he wants me to, but Dani’s not negotiable.”
“Of course it’s not. Dani will be your best man, and Max will be my maid of honor. My father will lose his mind. It will be epic. It will be—”
He cut her off with a kiss, pressing her against the inside of his door as he let her bag fall to the floor. Fuck, he had been waiting forever for this, to hear her sigh into his mouth as her jaw went slack. To feel her wind her arms around his neck and lean into him and kiss him like she had no plans of stopping.
She lit him up like all the lights of an Eldovian ballroom at Christmas were suddenly flipped on inside his chest. As she moaned softly, trying to rock herself up against him, he started to feel a little frantic, like he couldn’t get close enough to her. But he forced himself to take a step back, shedding his coat as he did so and assessing the problem of how to most efficiently divest her of her clothing. Gabby was going to be home before they knew it. So they could either stand here and make out by the door forever or they
could get on with it.
Marie was dressed in her princess gear. Her coat was a sort-of trench coat, but it sloped out at the bottom like a skirt and featured a wide belt tied tight over two rows of buttons. He unwrapped the belt and started on the buttons. So many buttons. But that was kind of her signature thing, wasn’t it? He persevered even though his fingers were made clumsy by lust. She talked while he worked. “You still have your Christmas stockings up!”
“Yep.” It was April, but he hadn’t taken the cardboard mantel down.
Finally, he slid the coat off her shoulders to reveal . . . a pink suit-dress thing that featured approximately one million buttons. “Are you kidding me?”
Marie looked down, bewildered.
He rolled his eyes and started on them. She laughed, belatedly catching up. “This wasn’t the right thing to wear, was it?”
“Gabby’s going to be home in”—He looked at his crappy watch. He had, so far, refused her attempts to give him a Morneau—“fifty-one minutes.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, you’d better pick up the pace then, hadn’t you?”
He picked up the pace.
“Really, Leo,” she pressed. “Why do you still have your Christmas stockings up?”
“Because,” he said, not caring—much—that what he was about to say was going to make him sound like a giant sap. “I didn’t want to take them down until my Christmas wish came true.”
“And what was your Christmas wish?”
“Would you believe me if I said I wished for a naked princess in my apartment?”
The dimples came out. “I would not.”
Finally done with the suit buttons, he paused with one hand on either side of the blazer. “If I open this to find you have a shirt with buttons on underneath, I swear to God . . .”
She batted his hands away and took over, shrugging herself out of the jacket—she was wearing a silky camisole underneath that was blessedly button-free—and unzipping her skirt. “What did you wish for, Leo?” she said as she hopped on one foot to get out of her tights.
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