Page 52 of Royally Matched
“You and your friends are donating your time?”
“It’s a small price for us to pay.”
I work hard at not allowing his kindness to touch my heart, but I’m fully aware it’s a losing battle, and my heart gives a little squeeze, just as it did the day of the garden party after Lemon and Pepper had done their best to destroy the event.
“Tell me, what draws you to gardening?” I ask.
“During my travels, I ended up working on a project in the Amazon to replace abandoned areas that were oncedecimated by industry. I wasn't in charge of the project or anything, but I learned from the guy who was. He was generous enough to explain to me the reasons behind his decision making as regards design and plant choice. I loved the way he had this encyclopaedic knowledge of which plants to put where for different purposes. Then, I got to work on the redesign of the gardens at a stately home in Scotland. The designer planned the whole thing around color, so that at any time during the year the owners could look out at their garden and see something bright. It blew my mind how she could do that.”
“And you wanted to learn how to do it, too.”
“I did.” He pauses for a beat, his eyes on mine, and I find it hard not to be swept up in his passion for what he's chosen to do with his life. “Actually, I’m glad you stopped by, ma’am.”
I press my lips together and make a snap decision, one I hope I won’t regret. “Sofia.”
“Sofia,” he repeats, my name on his lips like dripping honey. It has the effect I most feared, creating a new sense of intimacy between us.
I lift my chin, pushing away my feelings. “Why are you glad I stopped by?”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a dog-eared piece of paper. “I’ve been given something I want to share with you.”
“You have? What is it?” I ask in surprise.
“I was sent something yesterday with no return address, but as far as I can see, it seems to concern you.”
“Me? What does it say?” I eye the paper in his hands. “Is it an invitation?”
“Not exactly. Shall I read it?” he asks, and I nod. He unfolds the paper. “To the Seeker of Truth,” he begins.
I raise my eyebrows.
“I know. It’s cheesier than a Frenchman’s fridge, but it gets better.” He clears his throat and continues. “In the library’s hidden nook,” he says.
I know I should be concentrating on what he’s saying. But there’s something irresistibly captivating about the way his stubbled jaw tightens as he reads, the way the furrow of his brow deepens. “Rugged” is the word that springs to mind, but somehow Marco is so much more than just his manly good looks, his thick, tousled hair, his muscular torso—as appealing as they are. He’s caring and funny, he’s passionate about what he’s chosen to do with his life, and the way he looks at me makes my belly hum, sending my heart into orbit.
I’ve thought way too often about the way he came after me when Lemon and Pepper tried their best to destroy the garden party. He wanted to know if I was okay, to check in with me. In that moment, with a concerned look in his eye, he went from being the man I shouldn’t feel attraction for to the man I shouldn’t genuinelylikeas much as I do.
In that moment, I mourned the loss of the time when all I felt I had to do was conquer my attraction to him.
It was as though he went from being a partially drawn character in my mind, with all the attributes of a deeply desirable man, to being fully drawn, someone who could capture my heart in a way that I find both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure.
The thing is, I’ve been down the road with a man like Marco before, and when it ended, I was left hurt and alone, a shell of my former self, who had nothing to cling onto but my role as a princess.
I refuse to let that happen again.
And yet here I am, dropping in to see the one man Ishould stay far away from—not just because he’s Enzo’s brother and not my choice, but because he’s so very, very dangerous to me.
That’s why I had my spreadsheet. That’s why I had a series of check boxes against which a man like Marco Revera would never get the green light.
That spreadsheet kept me safe. It kept me from feeling the sorts of feelings that would only serve to muddy the waters. It allowed me to make a clear and reasoned decision, unsullied by emotion.
And right now, as I listen to him read with his deep, velvety voice, as I watch the way the light highlights his cheekbones and the curve of his lips, I know I’m nothing short of riveted by this man.
My biggest fear grips my chest, squeezing painfully. I could be losing myself and everything I’ve worked so hard for.
“So? What do you think?” he asks, looking back at me.
I can’t believe I didn’t hear a word he said. I was so busy being swept up in my thoughts and all the emotions he elicits in me, I totally missed his words.