“Prince Philippe.” Chase stepped away from Ella, though he didn’t offer to shake the other man’s hand. “We finally meet. I’m Chase Bryant. I apologize for my delay—”
“Never mind that.” Philippe turned to Ella. “I want to talk to you—”
“And I want to talk to you,” Ella snapped. She dashed the tears from her cheeks and reached for the tabloids. “So this is the true purpose of our little romance, Philippe?”
He stared down at them with a frown, his brows snapping together as he scanned the photos and saw the headline. “Ella—”
“I think I’ll excuse myself,” Chase murmured.
“Please, let us go somewhere private,” Philippe said in a low voice, and Ella nodded. She didn’t really feel like breaking down in the middle of the Bryant Ball.
Philippe led her to a quiet alcove and gazed at her for a long moment, his face serious. “You look beautiful tonight, Ella. Absolutely lovely.”
His words shouldn’t have warmed her, but they did. Ella forced her shoulders back. “It’s a little late for compliments, Philippe.”
“You think I knew about this article? That I actually gave this interview?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You court the press, you’re the Playboy Prince—”
“Not this time. Not with you.”
“Then how—”
“They must have been following me. Ella, I won’t lie to you. The press hound me and I have encouraged it—for the sake of my country.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “The sake of your country?”
“Montvidant has always been shrouded in obscurity. When my sister abdicated, my mother wanted me to bring our country into the limelight, encourage the tourism industry. Everything I’ve done for the newspapers has been for that purpose only.”
She stared at him. “So it’s all been some kind of ruse?”
He smiled crookedly. “More or less.”
“Then who,” Ella whispered, “is the real you?”
Philippe took a step toward her. “The man you’ve come to know these last few days. The man who held you in his arms and kissed you. The man who is falling in love with you.”
Ella shook her head, disbelief warring with hope inside her. “You can’t love me—”
“I want to. Ella, please give me a chance. Give us a chance. I know it won’t be easy, I know my life isn’t the kind you’ve ever wanted, but I believe what we have is special and rare. Please don’t throw it away.” He reached for her hands. “I came here tonight intending to tell you that. I had no idea about the newspapers.”
“I believe you,” she whispered, and realized she did.
“And?” Philippe asked, squeezing her hands.
Ella gazed at him, fear holding her back even as hope pushed her forward. “I…I don’t know. How can we have a relationship, Philippe? You’re a prince—”
“Of a small and very forward-thinking country.” He grinned. He smiled encouragingly. “They’ll accept you, Ella—”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ll make sure they do.”
Still she resisted, out of fear. “What about my job? My life? I won’t change for you, Philippe. I won’t ever change for a man again.”
“I don’t want you to change. I would never ask that of you.”
“And I wouldn’t ask that of you.” She loved him just the way he was. Still she was silent, caught between old fear and new hope.
“Ella?” Philippe prompted gently. Ella took a deep breath. She’d lived a quiet, safe life, protecting her heart, focused only on work for so long. She was ready to risk again, ready to try. To love.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I want to try, too, Philippe. I want to try with you.”
Smiling, Philippe drew her to him and kissed her gently, but as Ella put her arms around him, the kiss deepened into a promise of forever. This, Ella knew, was the best kiss of all.
THE END