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“I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder. “I just am. The idea of marrying you doesn’t scare me, and that has to mean something. Right?”
She bit down on her lip. “You can’t possibly want to marry me.”
“Was that a questi
on or a statement?”
“A question!”
“Well…” He scratched his ear and scrunched his nose. “I could certainly do worse. I mean, you are a princess.”
“Well, that’s a ringing endorsement, right there. ‘I could do worse.’” She rolled her eyes. “Please, marry me before I die in the romance of the moment.”
He laughed and leaned a shoulder against the wallpapered wall. “It’s true. Again, you’re not a queen, and I feel I could have scored one, but…”
She threw her hands up. “I’m done here. You need to leave. Run. Fast. Don’t look back. Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect two hundred dollars. Send a different guard to watch over me, if your boss insists. But whatever you do? Don’t come back here.”
“They have Monopoly in your country?” He rubbed his jaw. “This might not be so bad after all. I’m surprisingly good at that game, you know. One time, I—”
“Gordon.”
He pushed off the wall. “Fine. I’ll go home. My shift is over, anyway.”
Something told her he was leaving…but he wasn’t really leaving. She hadn’t won this argument. He looked way too pleased with himself to have lost. “You’re going to refuse them, right?”
He cupped her cheek, his finger brushing over her cheekbone gently. Leaning in, he kissed her so lightly that if her eyes had been closed, she probably would have missed it. “Rest easy, Belle, everything is going to be all right.”
She dug her fingers into her palms. “That didn’t answer my question.”
“Didn’t it?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked down the hallway. “Till we meet again.”
She took a step after him but stopped. Princesses don’t chase men down halls. But this one wanted to…
“Good-bye, Gordon.”
Chapter Twelve
The next night, Gordon walked down the small, old-fashioned hallway, his chest tight and the small spot where his shoulders met even tighter. This was insanity. Pure, unaltered, unexplainable insanity. He should be locked up in a padded room for even considering this at all.
But he was doing it anyway.
Life was full of the safe choices that kept you whole, and the risky choices that would probably lead you to heartache and ruin. For a long time now, he’d only been making safe choices. As soon as Belle came in his life…that had changed. He didn’t want to play it safe anymore. He wanted to fucking live.
Even if it might screw him over in the end.
Patting his chest pocket, he smoothed his jacket, took a deep breath, nodded at the two royal guards that stood in the hallway, and knocked. Like always, the hotel smelled like an odd combination of expensive perfume and cleaner. The door cracked open, and a bright green eye peeked at him through the crack. Once she saw who stood there, she closed the door in his face. For a second, he thought she was refusing to talk to him…and that would make things a little bit harder.
But then she opened the door.
“Gordon? I told you not to come back here. What are you—?”
“Why aren’t you dressed and ready to go?” He pushed inside her room and closed the door behind him. She wore the same robe as the other night, but she hadn’t taken her makeup off yet. “We have to leave in ten minutes.”
“What?” She blinked at him. “I don’t have any engagements this evening.”
“Sure you do.” He tugged on his shirtsleeves. “We’re due at the opera at eight.”
She rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt that George is still taking me to the opera.”