Chapter 21Sofia
Chapter 21
Sofia
All I can say is thank goodness Marco drives as well as he teases me. His competence behind the wheel has allowed my shoulders to drop from the tension I was holding when he first pulled the car out of the parking lot, and now that we’ve been whizzing along the motorway for some time, I lean back in my seat and concentrate on admiring the natural beauty around us.
But my initial lack of faith in his driving skills was not the only reason for my tension. When he reached out and touched the skin of my arm, it felt like he was crossing an unspoken line, a line neither of us should even get close to, let alone pass. That one, simple touch sent scorching heat coursing through me, making my heart leap in the very way I have been so afraid of. As he pulled his hand away, I had to resist the urge to reach out and hold it in mine, the touch of my skin against his reassuring and wonderful .
Of course I didn’t. It wouldn’t be right. I might not feel even the smallest of sparks for the man who’s meant to be my Mr. Perfect these past weeks, but that doesn’t mean I should act on my feelings for Marco.
No. I’m better than this. I’ve spent my entire life concealing my true feelings. I’m practiced. Expert. I can resist a man like Marco Revera with his sparkling eyes, his sexy grin, his easy-going nature, and his manly body.
But oh, my, what a body.
His burly, rugged presence fills the space between us, making my car feel much smaller than it is. His broad shoulders brush lightly against mine as he turns the wheel, each movement effortless yet commanding. His forearms flex as his hands grip the steering wheel, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, strong and capable.
I close my eyes and turn my head away, choosing instead to count the fields as we pass them, the church steeples indicating small towns in the distance.
I purposefully chose to find a man by using my spreadsheet to avoid the messiness of love. To avoid the fleeting nature of attraction and the damage it can do. As I watch Marco concentrate on driving, I know he’s absolutely everything I’ve worked so hard to avoid, everything that can open my heart and leave me vulnerable.
It was Reynold Maben who last had such an effect on me. The man I loved and lost. We had met when I was at Cambridge, an innocent and unworldly 19-year-old, fresh out of Ledonia. He had all the swagger and confidence of a man used to getting his way, and I found it impossible to resist his charms. Like Marco, he too worked with his hands. He was a sculptor, learning his craft. I was drawn to him in a way I’d never been drawn to a man before, and we spent two wonderful years together, in love.
Until we weren’t.
Well, to be more precise, until he wasn’t anymore. For me, it came completely out of the blue. We had spent the weekend with friends in one of my family’s country homes. We’d laughed as we cooked together, hiked the hills, and made out under a willow at the side of a lake. And then, on the way back to Villadorata, after we dropped off one of his friends from art school to catch the train back to Britain, a pretty woman called Jilly, he told me he was in love with her and that we were over.
I can still feel the ice-cold desolation that spread through my veins that day, creating an iron wall that I wrapped around my heart. I resolved then and there never to allow myself to let my guard down, to allow someone to touch me in the way he had. My poor heart couldn’t cope with being broken again.
It was then that the media gave me the cruel moniker, the Pitiful Princess. But you know what? They were right. I was pitiful. I’d had my heart broken and with it, a little part of me had died, gone forever.
Or at least that’s what I thought until I met Marco. Despite my defenses, despite my determination not to let it happen again, he has ignited a fire within me I’ve found impossible to put out, no matter how much I know I need to.
We pass field upon field, finally leaving the flatlands as we reach the foothills to the mountain range where our destination is located. It’s verdant and lush, and as I look across the landscape I can see church steeples in the distance, indicating a small town or village lies there.
“How wonderful it must be to live in one of these small villages in this beautiful landscape,” I say as I gaze out the window.
They’re the first words either of us have uttered since he apologized for touching me, and they sound odd in the small space in the car.
“Would you like to live in one of those small villages? I would have expected you would prefer to live at the palace.”
“Don’t get me wrong, life in the palace is more than comfortable, but—” I stop, worried I’ll come across far too “poor little rich girl” for him.
“Tell me,” he says, his voice softer than before.
“I don’t want to sound like a spoiled brat. I know I was born into a life of privilege and wealth, and I’ll never want for anything material. It’s just that my life is… dictated, I suppose. Does that make sense?”
“You were born into a job in which you need to act and look a certain way. You didn’t have any choice.”
His words resonate with me. He gets it. He gets me .
I should have known he would.
“You’re right. I didn’t have a choice. Not that I don’t love it, because I do.”
“What do you love about it?”
“The balls and the grand state events and all those things are all very well, but what I really love about the job is feeling like I’m making a difference in people’s lives. I remember having a conversation with Maddie about it when she first became a princess. She told me she felt like she’d finally found her purpose in life, that being a patron of hospitals and various charities meant she could extract real meaning in a way she’d never been able to in her previous life. Even though I wasn’t a nine-to-five office worker in Texas like she was, I knew exactly what she meant.”
“Is that why you want to be queen?”
His words hit me in the solar plexus.
I know I could ask him where he got such a silly notion because, of course, I’ll never be queen. But I don’t. There’s something about Marco that makes me feel safe, makes me feel as though I can show him my true self.
So instead, I look down at my hands and reply, “It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Tell me.”
I lift my head to see him looking at me and the sincerity in his eyes instantly quells my anxiety. “Only if you look back at the road.”
He smiles and returns his attention to driving. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No. I do want to tell you. First of all, I want you to understand it’s not just about wearing the crown.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not, although I’m certain you would look lovely in a crown.” He winks at me.
I shake my head at him, smiling. “For me it’s about making a real difference. I want to push for better education, more robust healthcare, and strong environmental policies. I envision a future where our country is a beacon of progress and equality in Europe. My youngest brother might be named next in line soon, but he doesn’t share my vision, or any vision. Sorry, Max, but it’s true. He’s only just graduating from university and is taking after Alex in his zest for life, aka flirting with every woman he meets under the age of 30.”
“If he’s half as good at flirting with women as the stories about Prince Alexander would suggest, he’ll be far too busy to inherit a crown. ”
“Exactly!”
“You’d make a wonderful queen.”
I lift my eyes to his and see sincerity in his eyes. “Thank you.”
“It’s not meant to be a compliment. I call it the way I see it.”
“Well, I can thank you all the same.”
He chuckles. “You can.”
“As you know, we live in a constitutional monarchy in Ledonia, where the role of the ruler is more ceremonial than anything, but it carries some influence. I want to be that influence, guiding our country toward a brighter, more inclusive future. I need to prove that tradition can evolve, that I can be the leader this country deserves for the sake of our people, for the sake of our future.”
By the time I’m finished my heart is beating out of my chest, and I’m panting lightly with the force of my feelings.
Marco is watching me closely, his eyes assessing.
“I got a little caried away.”
“You’re passionate about it, that’s all. It’s a good thing. Our country needs leaders who are passionate about our future. Would your brother, Alexander, have made a good king do you think?”
“If you’d asked me that question before he met Maddie, my answer would have been a resounding ‘no.’ But she seems to have had a wonderful effect on him and he’s definitely changed for the better.”
“Is it hard having him leave Ledonia to marry Madeline?”
I think of my handsome, charming brother. He’s always so full of light and fun, always lifting my spirits and showing me the lighter side of life.
“I miss him,” I reply honestly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy for him that he’s found love, and Maddie is just wonderful.”
“You can still wish the guy was here.”
“True.” We share a brief smile.
Why is talking to Marco so much easier than talking to Enzo—or anyone, really? Enzo and Marco are brothers with the same parents, the same schooling, the same upbringing, the same everything. But whereas Enzo is stiff and formal and hard to crack, Marco is laid back and fun, with an air of openness to him that makes it so easy to talk to him, and I find myself opening up to him in a way I rarely choose to do.
I glance at him beside me. He’s concentrating on the road, both hands on the steering wheel, his chiseled jawline, straight nose, and high cheekbones, all perfectly framed by a mop of tousled hair.
Somehow he manages to look classically handsome and rugged at the same time, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and trail my fingers through his hair.
I blow out a breath. That would not be a good move.
“Tell me about landscape gardening,” I ask. Yes, that’s good. There’s nothing sexy about landscape gardening. It’s just trees and shrubs and grass with maybe a marble statue or two thrown in for good measure.
He turns briefly to me, his face lit up, his eyes bright. “Put simply, it’s my passion,” he says.
Uh-oh.
Gardening just got sexy.
“What do you …err, like about it?” I ask, pushing an image away of a shirtless Marco working the land, his taut muscles gleaming in the sunlight.
“Everything. It allows me to be creative with actual living things, transforming outdoor spaces into beautiful but functional areas. I love getting my hands dirty, feeling the earth as I work with nature. There really is an immense satisfaction in seeing a project come to life. I need the opportunity to work on more projects. The Tideswell Community Garden was voluntary, but I’d like to get some actual commissions, ones that pay me rather than the other way around.”
“Have you applied for any projects?”
“There’s a new design initiative proposed by the Villadorata City Council that I would love to win. It’s transforming Cornwall Park. They’re very loose with what they want exactly, so it’s really got my creative juices flowing.”
“It sounds like a big project.”
“Oh, it’s way too big for just me. I would need a whole team of people, but I’ve got some good ideas.”
“Do you care to share them with me?”
“The park is located in a working class area in the city, an area I know pretty well. Right now it’s a rose garden where homeless people sleep on the benches. The place is crying out for a kids’ playground, something that can spark their imagination and allow them to run around outside in a green space. That’s my proposal, with a pirate theme, mainly because I liked pirates as a kid, so I figured other kids would too.”
“I hope you get the commission.”
“It’s a longshot, but it’s a shot.”
He clearly loves what he does, and it’s fascinating to listen to him as he talks about something he cares so deeply about. It’s an attractive trait, and I smile as I listen, my heart calling out to me that this is the kind of man I should be with.
This is the kind of man who could love me.
This is the kind of man I deserve .
Only I’m too scared to allow myself to take that giant, unpredictable leap of faith.