I was aware of Enzo watching me, and it sent prickly tingles all over my skin. Why did he still have this effect on me?

  “Bellamy, there is something we need to discuss.”

  Sighing, I sat down on my bed. Right now I was just putting one foot in front of the other. I wasn’t in a “let’s discuss things” kind of place.

  “What now?”

  “We need to talk about the rules.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rules? I didn’t remember any mention of any rules when Lemon had been selling me this dream. Wasn’t that part of the fun of being an adult? I didn’t have to follow rules except for basic ones like don’t kill people and don’t steal stuff?

  “What kind of rules?” If any of those rules included not thinking/daydreaming/fantasizing about him, I was already in serious violation.

  He must have heard how exasperated I was, because he smiled, a real smile, the kind that still made my heart trip. “Nothing too grand. We have a smartphone for you.” He handed it to me still in the box. “It’s been set up, but you can put anything you’d like on it. The two rules are when we’re out, you have to do whatever I say when I say it, and whenever Lemon or I call you, you must answer. I have to be able to always get ahold of you, no matter what you’re doing.”

  As rules went, they seemed simple and pointless, but the phone was so shiny and pretty. Much better than my disposable flip phone.

  Maybe I really was like a kitten. Easily distracted.

  He stood up. “Do you have everything?” I looked around my little apartment that felt even smaller with him in it, and my gaze rested on my music box.

  Something inside me urged me to take it. Which made no sense, because I rarely even opened it. I went over and picked it up. “I think I should bring this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It was a present from my mother on my fifth birthday.” I could still see her beautiful, loving smile.

  “Everything you need to know is in here,” she’d said.

  I’d never understood what that meant. The box was small, made from dark, shiny wood with engravings of flowers along the edges. There were two drawers, but they were both empty. There was nothing but the box itself. I handed the music box to Enzo, and he opened it.

  The music that I knew by heart floated out. After the accident that had taken my mother’s life, the box was my one solace. I had opened it and listened to it over and over again. So often that it was amazing I hadn’t worn it out or broken it. It always made me think of her.

  “This is the Monterran national anthem,” Enzo said, looking puzzled. “The engravings on the side—I think this was made in Monterra. I’ve seen this same pattern on a royal tapestry in the palace.”

  Was that what she wanted me to know? Was she trying to tell me that I was Monterran? Why hadn’t she just told me who my father was instead of being all cryptic about it?

  Enzo gave the music box back to me, shutting off the tinkling melody abruptly. I put it in my suitcase. He helped me get Snickers out from under the bed and into her carrier, with her moaning loudly the whole time about the indignity of it all.

  When I let him know that I was ready, he insisted on carrying all of my luggage out to the car. Which was a sweet gesture, but I could lift my own suitcase. Sort of.

  Getting in the backseat of the car would make this a “Driving Miss Bellamy” situation, so I sat in the front seat next to him. Snickers had finally given up protesting and had fallen asleep. Or passed out from fear. I wasn’t sure which.

  Sitting this close to him felt like last night had. Where I was anxious and irritable because he took up all the space and oxygen around us. Even though I’d been scared to death of the motorcycle, I found myself missing it because at least then I’d had no choice but to wrap my arms around him. Which made me both weak and sad.

  “Are you worried about something? You’re chewing on your lower lip. You do that when you’re worried.”

  When had he noticed that about me? Was it the night we met and I had told him how hard it was to keep my head above water financially? Or when I was talking to Lemon yesterday? How could I both love that he knew that about me and be mad at him for pointing it out, especially since he was the cause of said worry? I couldn’t let him know what I was thinking about. “I’ve never flown before. And even though my brain understands that logically it’s safe, it still seems scary.”

  “There is a greater chance of dying in a car accident than in a plane crash.”

  Was that supposed to help? “That is probably not something you should say when you’re the driver of a car.”

  That made him laugh again, and I couldn’t help it—my heart skipped at the idea that I’d made him laugh.

  “Nevertheless, flying is very safe. Trust me.”

  “Yeah, if it’s so safe, then why do they call the airport the terminal?”

  Another big smile, and I had to force myself to look out the window so that I didn’t do something completely idiotic and slightly inappropriate.

  I suspected that flying in a luxurious private jet had probably ruined me for life. There were comfortable leather seats, a couch, and a waitstaff who brought me things before I even thought to ask for them. New York was busier than I’d expected. I’d asked Enzo where we were staying, and he gave me an enigmatic smile. “You’ll see.”

  A black town car waited for us, and the traffic was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. But the city was alive. Like there was a pulsing heartbeat all around us, and there was so much movement and excitement. I couldn’t help but be swept up by it.

  Lemon was waiting for us outside a boutique with a French name. She hugged me and welcomed me to the city, asking how my flight had gone while simultaneously giving directions to the people standing behind her, who she introduced as my “team.” They were going to beautify me and then help me pick out clothes. There were racks and racks waiting, and it took all my willpower not to run over there and dive into the middle of them. Then I shook hands with the camera crew assigned to follow me around, and Lemon told me not to bother remembering any of their names because they would never speak to me. They would only film.

  Her, or I mean, my team waxed and polished and primped and styled until I thought I might pass out from exhaustion and boredom. When I was finally deemed ready, I have to be honest, I still looked like me but with shaped eyebrows, eyelash extensions, and really smooth hair.

  Everyone was fawning all over me, but it was Enzo that I looked at. Enzo, who for a heart-stopping moment looked at me with something in his eyes I’d never seen before. Adoration? Before I could figure it out, his expression shuttered.

  Then it was clothes time, and not only did they have a lot of modern couture pieces for me, but somebody had told them about my love of all things vintage, and there were World War II–inspired pieces, along with several actual dresses from Dior’s 1947 New Look collection. I was in heaven.

  That part was so fun I hadn’t realized the sun had gone down, and Lemon said she’d come with us to the hotel. The camera crew went first in a different car. Something about establishing a setup shot or some other Hollywood lingo I didn’t understand. Her bodyguard sat in the front seat next to the driver while the rest of us were in the back.

  And where Enzo had given me two rules, Lemon had two million of them. About how I was to talk, how I should appear in public, more bodyguard rules, blah, blah, blah. I wanted to interrupt her and tell her that even God had only given Moses ten commandments, but I suspected that wouldn’t go over very well. I sort of tuned her out and people-watched instead.

  The car came to a stop, and Lemon finally stopped talking. The door was opened, and I couldn’t believe the gorgeous old building waiting in front of us. “Enzo, is this the Plaza?”

  “It is.” He nodded.

  He had done this. It had to have been him. The night we met, I’d told him about my obsession with the Eloise books when I was little. More than anything, I’d wanted to live in the Plaza like she did. It sounded romantic and exciting.

  And now I was going to get to stay in Eloise’s hotel. For some reason, this made my throat feel tight and my eyes go watery. I managed to thank him, and that look was back in his eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured.

  A bellhop came over and promised to get our luggage and to take care of Snickers. He asked if he could take her to get her a treat, and he promised to bring her up later. Knowing that she was in good hands, I relinquished my cat.

  The inside lobby was even more beautiful than the outside. I forgot about the camera crew filming my every reaction, forgot about Enzo and Lemon, I might have even temporarily forgotten my own name. Being surrounded by this much elegance and extravagance was almost too much to bear.

  Then there was a loud sound, like an explosion. Next thing I knew, Enzo had me pressed up against a wall, his body hard against mine. Shielding me. I didn’t know what had happened, and the only thing I was aware of was the strength and warmth of Enzo’s body. My body sighed with relief, like it was saying, “Finally!” Like this was where I belonged.

  My heart thundered in my chest, and I could feel his doing the same. His attention was turned toward the doors, watching intently. I felt the adrenaline of fear, but also the adrenaline of the hot guy against me whose non-cologne could start riots in the streets if other American women were allowed to smell him. Even though my life was potentially in danger, I took another whiff and sighed. A moment later he looked down at me, and at first I worried he knew what I had just done, but that awareness was back. That heat. The air between us sizzled and snapped. My lips parted involuntarily, and I was back to wanting his kiss more than anything.

  With what sounded like a muffled swear word, Enzo backed up and I slumped against the wall, trying to remember how to stand upright on my own. Lemon was crouched on the ground, and Marco was helping her get on her feet. I noticed he hadn’t done the same thing to her that Enzo had done to me.

  I also noticed that nobody else in the lobby had reacted to the sound. They were just watching us crazy people.

  “It was a car backfiring,” Lemon explained, brushing off her tailored pants. “Sorry about that. They tend to get a little jumpy.”

  A little jumpy? Marco and Enzo had gone into full-on commando mode, which was probably part of their job description. I guessed it was a good indication that Enzo would keep me safe, but it felt a little extreme.

  Although, this was my life now. Full of weird extremes like being a princess and having my own personal bodyguard.

  A man came over and introduced himself as Ryan, our butler. There was a special elevator specifically for my suite, and he gave keycards to me and Enzo.

  When the elevator came to a stop, Ryan said, “I present to you Suite 628. Or as we like to call it, the Royal Suite.”

  It was like walking into Versailles. There were gold accents and elaborate wall decorations and shiny marble floors. The suite was bigger than a hundred of my apartments put together. There were so many rooms. A white-and-gold dining room that seated twelve, a blue-and-gray living room with a massive fireplace and a baby grand piano. A gleaming chef’s kitchen, where I was told I would have my own personal chef on call. Which was good, because the only thing I ever managed to make in the kitchen was a mess.

  The master bedroom was unreal. The bedding and the armchairs were a bright white. I wanted to apologize to the butler in advance for everything I was sure to spill on them. “We can get you whichever kind of pillow you wish. Memory foam, hypoallergenic, down . . .”

  “But can you get me a bowlful of green M&Ms?” I asked jokingly.

  Ryan didn’t seem to get it. “Of course, miss.”

  I stopped at the window, taking in all the lights. Ryan informed us that we were looking out over Fifth Avenue and the Pulitzer Fountain. We couldn’t see much, but I took his word for it. I left my purse on the bed, and it seemed like it sank down into the softness. I could hardly wait to go to sleep.

  Ryan told us the suite had three bedrooms with personal bathrooms, and I gathered that Enzo would be staying here in the suite with me. I was grateful that at least now there would be doors and hallways between us while we slept. I didn’t need a repeat of last night.

  “This is too much,” I told Lemon as Ryan continued his tour, showing us the 24-karat-gold-plated faucets and bright white marbled bathrooms. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much it would cost to stay here for one night. In the middle of our private exercise room, I guessed that it was probably more than I made in a year.

  “Being a princess equals luxury.” She shrugged. “This is what the viewers want to see. The hotel is also giving us an excellent rate considering how often the royal family stays here and for the free publicity. Not to mention that this is one of the most secure rooms in the entire hotel.”

  After the tour, Ryan gave his business card to both me and Enzo, telling us to call for anything we wanted, and he would make sure it was done. With a slight bow, he left. Lemon gave me another hug and said that tomorrow would be my first date, and she’d send a car for us. The camera crew silently left, and as she’d predicted, they hadn’t said a word to me.

  Then she was gone, and it was just me and Enzo. Alone. In a palace-size suite. With a very weird silence between us.

  I said, “I should probably go unpack.”

  And at the exact same time he said, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

  Nope, not awkward. Not awkward at all. Turning on my heel, I ran for the safety of my room.

  There wasn’t much to put away. The clothes I’d picked out earlier hadn’t arrived yet. I decided that maybe I should take a shower, too. I put on one of the hotel’s fluffy white robes. I wandered into my bathroom and stopped at the doorway. I could hear Enzo. He was singing. Something in Italian. And he was really good.

  Trying not to giggle, I closed the bathroom door behind me. I started the shower up, waiting for the water to get warm. I looked at the bidet and wondered if I could figure it out on my own. There was a large claw-foot tub, and I pondered skipping the shower and just going for the bath. It had been a long day.

  I noticed something behind the tub. A long black seam in the middle of the tiled wall. I went over to investigate, and when I pushed, I realized there was a secret passageway/hallway with a door at the end.

  A secret passageway! How cool was that? Before I could check it out, a giant moth flew out of the secret hallway and swarmed me.

  There were no words for how much I hated bugs. Especially of the flesh-eating moth kind. I immediately screamed and started looking around for something to flatten the homicidal moth with.

  Just as my hand curled around a hairbrush, my bathroom door flew open, and Enzo came in wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel around his waist, his hair dripping and his chest covered in water droplets. It actually took me a second to peel my eyes away from his well-sculpted body when the moth dive-bombed me again, and I shrieked, dropping my brush on the floor.

  “I’d forgotten you’re afraid of bugs.” He stepped forward, reaching up to catch the moth, and I wanted to yelp again due to his nearness.

  He stayed next to me for a beat, looking down at me. I froze, noticing his pulse beating on the side of his neck, just under his jaw. He sucked in a sharp breath, and my own heartbeat frantically responded to the sound. He was looking at my lips, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. We stayed that way for longer than would be considered normal, and then he abruptly left, going into my room and opening one of the windows. The sight of a towel-clad Enzo in my temporary bedroom did funny things to my lady parts. He let the moth go outside.

  “There. Your little tiny nemesis has been dispatched.”

  He came back out into the hallway, smiling at me. Like we hadn’t almost kissed.

  “That was no little tiny moth. It was like Mothra. Like it had been eating radioactive materials and now had a taste for human flesh.” I trembled, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the deadly moth encounter or semi-naked Enzo.

  “Where did he come from?”

  I showed Enzo the secret hallway behind the bathroom, and he checked it out. He said it led to a panic room. With the way my heart was racing and my mind was freaking out about what had almost happened, I probably could have made use of a room like that. He made certain the door was securely locked before coming back to join me.

  Then we had more of him standing too close and me being too aware of him. “Okay. Well, if you’ll get out I’m going to take a shower.”

  He still had that amused expression. Like this whole situation had just been the funniest thing ever. “Please don’t feel you have to stop on my account.”

  My face flushed at the idea, and I found that even though he was being annoying I still wanted to kiss him. And do what he was suggesting.

  Aggravated, I pushed against his chest, trying to get him out the door. He laughed at my efforts to move him, but he did finally leave. Whistling the tune he’d been singing in his bathroom earlier.

  I closed my door and locked it for good measure. But whether it was to keep me in or him out I wasn’t sure.