Page 67 of Royally Matched

So, instead of responding defensively, I pull my lips into a smile and reply, “I’m not saying I want to bungee jump, exactly, Enzo. But I do wonder how it would feel.”

“Falling to your imminent death, that’s how it would feel.”

“So, you would never do it?”

“Bungee jump?” he scoffs. “I would never do such a thing, and nor would I expect you to, either,.” He holds my gaze, the look on his face stern, and I can’t help but feel I’m being told off.

And there I go again, thinking about how Marco stepped backward off the bridge, and how I know he would encourage me to do it with him, throwing caution to the wind, living right here in the moment.

Not Enzo. Sensible, considered Enzo. The man who reflects everything I know about myself to be right and appropriate.

I pinch my lips together. “I have no plans,” I reply, but I can’t stop the dull ache in my heart. I know Enzo is absolutely right. As a member of the royal family, I shouldn’t even entertain the idea of doing something as risky as bungee jumping. It hardly fits into the tight specifications of my job title.

Which is why Enzo is the right match for me for a whole host of reasons. Good reasons. Important reasons. Reasons that make sense.

He would never encourage me to do something like bungee jump. And that’s exactly the way it should be.

“Shall we get going?” he asks as Marco approaches us. “I could do with a coffee after that.”

“Of course, Enzo. Let’s go back to the palace, just you and I. We can have a coffee and chat.”

He nods, his face unsmiling. “That would be nice.”

Marco strides over to us, his hair wilder than usual, a look of utter exhilaration on his face, and I can’t stop myself from smiling. He looks so happy, so lit up, like he could power the national grid with his enthusiasm. “You havegotto try this, you two. It’s incredible!”

“You know this isn’t my sort of thing, Marco,” Enzo replies.

“It should be. Go on. Give it a try,” he says.

“I said no,” Enzo replies sternly.

Marco looks at me. “What about you, Princess Sofia? Will you take a jump? I’ll do it with you, if you like?”

I look between the two brothers, both watching me for my response. The idea of being wrapped in Marco’s arms, our bodies pressed tightly against one another’s as we step off the bridge and into the unknown, fills me with a potent cocktail of anxiety and excitement. To know that he would be there, holding me, keeping me safe, fills my heart.

But that person isn’t me. Or at least it isn’t who I choose to be. Who I’ve always chosen to be. I’m Princess Sofia, a member of the Ledonian Royal Family. I don’t do things like jump off bridges in the arms of gorgeous men. I cut ribbons and smile pleasantly, I know how to make small talk with absolutely anyone. I know how to climb out of a car elegantly, how to sit up straight with my hands resting in my lap. I know how to greet dignitaries and royalty from other countries.

“Sofia?” Enzo questions. “What’s it going to be? Coffee or plunging off a bridge?”

I can feel Marco’s eyes boring into me as I reply, “Coffee sounds lovely.” I look briefly at him and add, “But thank you, Marco. I appreciate the offer.”

As Enzo and I make our way to our respective cars, it feels as though I’ve made a momentous decision today. I’ve chosen what’s right, and what should be, over taking agiant leap of faith, both literally and metaphorically. A leap of faith with a man who could hold my heart in his hands—and could break it in two.

Now all I have to do is convince myself it’s the right decision for me.

Chapter 18

Marco

“When are you back from Brazil?” I ask as I sling Enzo’s suitcase into the back of his car.

“Next Friday.”

“There’s this fantastic hole-in-the-wall eatery I went to a bunch of times in Rio that serves the best?—”

“I won’t have time for hole-in-the-wall eateries. Or the inclination,” he interrupts. “This is a business trip.”

“Sure, but a guy’s got to eat.”