The Prince's Cinderella Bride. Christine Rimmer

asking you what. And you keep not telling me. Who is he?”

      Lani was so tired of lying. And Syd didn’t believe her lies anyway. Still, she tried to hold out. “Syd, come on...”

      “No, Lani. You come on. Whatever this is, it’s got you really on edge. And it’s got me more than a little bit worried for you.”

      “Don’t be. I’m all right.”

      “No, you’re not. You’re kind of a mess lately.”

      “Gee, thanks.”

      “Just talk to me.”

      Lani waffled. “It’s only, well, I’m afraid you won’t approve.”

      Syd made a sound that was midway between a laugh and a groan. “Don’t give me that. We’ve been friends for too long. There is nothing...nothing you could do that would make me love you any less.”

      Lani stared at her friend and wanted to cry again. “You are the best. You know that, right?”

      “So tell me.”

      The words were right there. And so she just said them. “I slept with Max on New Year’s Eve.”

      Syd’s green eyes bugged out and her mouth fell open. “Max. As in Maximilian, aka my brother-in-law?”

      Lani drew herself straight in her chair. “Yes. Maximilian as in the heir to the throne. That Max. You know the one.”

      “Oh, Lani...” Syd shook her head slowly.

      Lani made a low, pained little sound. “See? I shouldn’t have told you. Now you’ve gotta be certain I have a screw loose.”

      Syd’s hand came down on top of hers. She squeezed her fingers tight. “Stop.”

      Lani turned her hand around and grabbed on to Syd’s. “I know you’re shocked.”

      “No—well, surprised, maybe. A little.”

      “More like a lot.”

      Syd gave her a patient look. “I knew the two of you were friendly....”

      “Right. Just not that friendly. I mean, the prince and the nanny ending up in bed together. Ick. It just sounds so tacky.”

      “I don’t want to have to tell you again,” Syd scolded. “Stop beating yourself up. You like him. He likes you. You’re both single. It happens. Men and women find each other. I mean, where would we all be if it didn’t happen?” Protectively, she laid her other hand over their joined ones. “I did notice how he was always finding a reason to talk to you, always hanging around with you and Gerta and the children.”

      “Well, his kids were there, too.”

      “Lani. Let me make myself clearer. I should have guessed.”

      “Why should you guess? I mean, everyone talks about how much he loved his wife, about how he’ll never get married again, how nobody has a chance with him.”

      “Nobody until you, apparently.”

      She pulled her hand free of Syd’s comforting grip and ate another chip without really even tasting it. “It was one night, that’s all.”

      Syd leaned a little closer. “Do you want it to be more?”

      Lani hardly knew how to answer, so she didn’t.

      Syd kept after her. “Is he treating you like it never happened or something? Do I need to kick his ass for you?”

      Lani pushed her plate away again, then pulled it back, ate a slice of pickle and teased, “You think you could take him? He’s pretty fit.”

      “Answer the question. Has he been disrespecting you?”

      “No, he hasn’t. He’s been wonderful. Last night, he kissed me and said he won’t give up on me, even though I’ve done everything I possibly can to chase him away.”

      “Wait. Stop. I’m getting whiplash, this conversation is so confusing. He wants to keep seeing you—and you’re just not interested?”

      Lani pushed her plate aside for the third time so that she could bang her head on the table. Then she sat up, sucked in a hard breath and said, “No, actually, I’m crazy about him.”

      Syd stared at her for a long time. Then she said gently, “So give him a chance.” Lani only looked at her. Syd spoke again. “This is not eleven years ago.”

      Lani almost wished she’d never confided in Syd about what had happened when she was eighteen, the terrible choices she’d made and the life-altering domino effect of the ugly consequences that followed. But they were best friends and best friends shared the deepest, hardest secrets. “I just don’t want to get my heart broken, okay? Been there, done that. It almost destroyed me. I don’t want to go there again.”

      “The way I remember it, you broke up with Michael Cort because you wanted more than just safety in a man....”

      “Yeah, I know that, but—”

      “Save the buts. I don’t get this. A big part of the reason I went to lunch with Rule that first day I met him was because you told me to get out there and give another guy a chance. You knew how many times I’d been messed over, and that I was scared it was only going to happen again. But you pushed me to see that you don’t get what really matters without putting yourself out there, without risking big.”

      “Well, I’m having a little trouble right now following my own advice.”

      “Just think about it.”

      “Are you kidding? I do. Constantly. I just made the big sale. I’m living my dream. But all I can think about is this thing with Max.”

      * * *

      The apartment, in an old villa on a narrow street in Monagalla, had one bedroom, a tiny kitchen nook and a six-by-ten-foot balcony off the living room that the landlady called a terrace. From the terrace you could see the hillside behind the building, and a forest of olive and rubber trees and odd, spiky cactus plants. Lani took the place because the old Spanish-style building charmed her. Also, it was available immediately at a good price and it was only a short walk from the front door up Cap Royale to the palace.

      One week after she got the call from Marie, she moved in. She had all the furniture she needed, courtesy of Rule and Sydney, who had led her down into the warren of storage rooms in the basement of the palace and let her choose the few pieces she needed from the mountains of stuff stored there.

      It took her two days to make it livable. She designated half of the living room as her office, positioning her desk so she could look out the glass slider at the little square of terrace and the olive trees on the hillside. And she found a housewares shop nearby where she bought pots and pans, dishes, glassware and cooking utensils. The shop had all the linens she needed, too.

      At the end of the second day of fixing the place up, when she had it just the way she wanted it, she cooked herself a simple dinner in her little kitchen and she ate on the plain white plates she’d bought from the nearby shop. After she ate, she sat down at her computer and wrote ten pages and felt pretty good about them. It was well after midnight when she closed her laptop and saw the pink sticky note she’d slapped on the top: Call parents.

      Actually, she’d been meaning to call them for days now—ever since she made the big sale. They would be thrilled for her, of course. But she’d been putting off making that call.

      They loved her and they worried about her. And every time she talked to them they wanted to know when she was coming home. They didn’t seem to understand that she was home. She’d tried to explain to them that she was never moving back to Texas. So far, they weren’t getting it. Sometimes she doubted they ever would.

      Midnight in Montedoro meant five in the afternoon yesterday in Texas. Her mom was probably still at her clinic. But her dad might be home. She made the call.