30. Willa
Chapter thirty
Willa
T onight marks our official debut as a couple. Though there has already been speculation in the press that Nick is dating someone, our dinner date will confirm his girlfriend’s identity—namely, me.
Nick's hand is on my thigh, squeezing gently. "It's not too late to call this off," he hedges, watching me from across the backseat of the blacked-out Range Rover as we drive. "We can ask Johann to turn around."
I was grateful when Johann and Bruno returned to the palace a few days ago. It's nice to see more friendly faces since Nick and I arrived at Windingham Palace. Although Alex has been very kind, the same cannot be said for Nick's mother. She's still a royal pain in the ass, pun intended.
When I meet Nick's gaze, there's a tightness around Nick's eyes. I've seen this expression many times over the past week. He's worried about me, which only strengthens my resolve.
Nick takes my lack of verbal response as an indication that I'm rethinking my decision.
"Johann—" Nick starts, but I interrupt him .
"No, Nick. I haven't changed my mind." My hand caresses his cheek as I steer his face to mine. "I want this. I want you ," I explain simply.
I want Nick. If it means giving up my privacy to be with him, I'll do it, because Nick's love is worth every sacrifice.
Though I haven't said the words aloud, I'm in love with Nick.
Nick groans softly, "I want you too, Willa," as he leans forward, capturing my mouth. His gentle kiss ends when Johann swings the SUV around to the rear of the uber-exclusive dining club. Johann clears his throat quietly before announcing that we've arrived.
It's odd. I am anxious, but when Nick is near, my nerves don't overwhelm me. His presence instills a strength and confidence in me.
Johann opens the back door. Nick steps out and turns to take my hand, helping me exit the tall SUV gracefully.
Now the official conversion begins, from forbidden fling to official royal romance.
Over the past week, I've been put through a royal boot camp of sorts—etiquette lessons, wardrobe fittings, Belgrovinian history classes, slideshows of the important political players.
Nick feels guilty that I have to do it, but it's not any more work than I usually undertake when preparing for my next film role.
Speaking of film roles, Max and Hugh weren't pleased when I turned down the part in Mila of Monaco . Unsurprisingly, I'm content with my decision. I'd much rather pursue my relationship with Nick than another film role.
I paste a smile upon my face and glide a step behind Nick as he leads the way through the private entrance of The Ramsey House.
Before we walk into the main dining room, Nick grins over his shoulder at me. "Ready?"
I nod.
He surprises me when he takes my hand, publicly claiming me, and leads me through the room. With a placid expression, Nick looks straight ahead, ignoring the wide-eyed stares and fervent whispers that only grow as we traverse the room to enter our private dining area.
Our secluded room is cavernous, but the dark wood flooring, muted lighting, and rich blue hue on the walls make the space seem more intimate.
In the middle of the room is a diminutive table draped in a white tablecloth and set for two.
Gallantly, Nick pulls my chair out for me before taking his seat.
I breathe a small sigh of relief. Placing the linen napkin in my lap, I murmur, "That wasn't too bad. No different really than when I go out to eat in LA."
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the worst is yet to come. The paparazzi will be lying in wait for our departure."
I shrug. "That's really no different either, Nick. One time, Maggie was visiting me in California, and we went to this little hole in the wall sushi place—"
"A hole in the wall sushi restaurant? That sounds risky," Nick quips, his eyes sparkling.
I laugh and thump his hand lightly. "Stop. It's actually really good. Never once have I gotten food poisoning from their sushi."
"Then you'll have to take me there sometime."
As it always does, my heart beats double-time whenever Nick mentions future plans.
I scrunch my nose. Leaning forward, I whisper, “Can you eat sushi? Isn’t raw fish a no-no for you royals? That was one of my lessons, learning about which foods to avoid eating. I was surprised to learn you can't eat shellfish. I had no idea food poisoning was such a concern amongst the royal set.”
Nick’s lips twitch. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
"Okay, I'd love that." I lean back in my chair, smiling. "Anyway, Maggie and I place our orders, and we're chitchatting when a young woman approaches and asks if she can take a photo with me. I agree. We take the photo, she leaves, and I think nothing of it."
"Were you famous yet?"
I wiggle my hand in a back-and-forth motion. "Not famous enough to believe that anyone would care, but they did."
"You don't give yourself enough credit," Nick tuts.
With a shrug, I admit, "You might be right."
"Sorry, I interrupted. Please, continue."
"Anyway, the woman posted our photo on social media and geotagged the location of the restaurant.
Within a few minutes, fans were flocking there.
It was pandemonium. Maggie and I had to leave before we even got our food.
" I groan. "And don't even get me started on how crazy some of my movie press tours have been. "
"All that to say, you expect to handle the attention alright, then?"
I nod. "Exactly."
"You're amazing."
I blush at Nick's compliment.
A waitress approaches from my right and pours a glass of chilled white wine into my crystal goblet on the table. As she silently moves to do the same for Nick, I smile at her and whisper my thanks.
When I glance at Nick he has a funny look on his face. "What?" I ask, confused.
Nick shakes his head and smiles. "You Americans are so friendly."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing bad, Willa. Most people of your status wouldn't have paid any attention, much less said thank you, to a server." Nick's grin widens. "I very much appreciate how personable and polite you are to everyone."
Another swath of warmth floods my cheeks .
"Humble, too. Let’s not forget, insanely beautiful," Nick continues. "You're the whole package, Willa, and I'm lucky to call you mine." He brushes his thumb over my fingers before bringing my hand to his lips and sweeping a kiss across my knuckles. "I don't deserve you, my darling."
If I wasn't sitting down, I'd be swooning.
"I love making you blush," he pauses. "Did you know that when you come on my cock, your flush spreads all the way down from your face to your nipples?"
"Nick!" I gasp, my eyes wide.
Nick sits back in his chair, laughing. "Finally, she speaks! My compliments rendered you mute again, so I knew I needed to say something dramatic to break you from your stupor."
I shake my head wryly. "You're trouble."
"I don't disagree."
"But you're the best kind of trouble."
"I'm glad you think so since you're stuck with me, my darling."
There's no one else I'd rather be stuck with than Nick.
The waitress delivers our first course, and the evening continues much like I assumed it would. Nick plies me with excellent food, copious amounts of wine, and entertaining stories from his youth, making me laugh more often and louder than Queen Beatrice would think was appropriate.
When our waitress brings out dessert—a honey roasted peach tart topped with crushed amaretto cookies—I’m so full that I swear I cannot eat another bite.
“One bite, Willa.” Nick holds out a spoonful of the dessert, waving it around until I relent.
As soon as the decadent flavors hit my tastebuds, I close my eyes and let out a soft, low moan. My tongue darts out, licking my lips slowly, hunting for any miniscule crumb that might not have made it into my mouth. “Oh my god,” I sigh, opening my eyes. “That was…wow, that was amazing.”
Nick stands up abruptly. “We need to leave. Now.”
My brows knit together. “But…you haven’t finished the dessert.”
He leans down to murmur in my ear, his voice low and urgent, “After that display, the only thing I want to finish is you.”
“Oh. Oh, ” I repeat, blushing.
Holding out his hand, he helps me stand, twining his arm around my waist. “You have no idea what you do to me. You’re magic.”
“I’m magic, huh?”
“Yes. From the first moment I saw you, you’ve completely bewitched me.”
“Okay, now I know you’re lying. The first moment? You mean when I tripped, stood speechless, and turned an unattractive shade of crimson?”
He throws back his head with a laugh. “Okay, maybe you cast your spell on me the second time I saw you.”
I roll my eyes with a wry grin. “The time that I was standing half-naked on the beach. Yes, that sounds about right, Nicholas.”
Wearing matching smiles, Nick opens the door of our private dining room for me.
Johann and three other members of the King's Royal Guard greet us, immediately forming a protective circle as we exit the dining club.
As Nick suspected, the paparazzi and royal watchers have descended.
There are photographers lining the walkway from the restaurant's front door to where our pair of Range Rovers are parked, idling on the street.
Even with our security, the paparazzi swarm us, buzzing around like pesky bugs.
Cameras are shoved into our faces, and I hear my name being called.
Nick holds my hand again, tugging my body into his to shield me.
Adopting a neutral expression, I stride as quickly as possible toward the car.
I've been lectured on the proper protocols, and I do my best to ignore the paparazzi.
I've had years of experience dealing with fans and the press, but this attention is more intense. And the royal expectations are much different than what I’m used to in Hollywood.