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“Look at you,” she said. “You’re so—you’re so—”
“I’m over the moon,” he said. “I’m simply over the moon.”
So was she, even though things were complicated, even though things still hadn’t become clear between the two of them. It didn’t seem to matter, there on that Ferris wheel, with their daughter kicking away underneath Artur’s hand.
That first kick—Amy would remember it for the rest of her life. The shock on his face. The surprise. The delight. She wished she had a photo.
She had no idea that it had all been caught on camera.
11
It was far too early in the morning to be awake.
Amy stretched in bed, her body aching. It seemed a little silly, to be this worn-out by a couple of weeks of traveling, but here she was, pregnant and tired. Honestly, it was a surprise how tired she felt. She’d hit the ground running after college, and life in New York City never truly slowed down. She’d loved that pace.
Now she wanted a nap all the time.
And if she was being truthful, it wasn’t even that early. She’d had grand plans to go to the gym in the hotel this morning, but it was after eight and she was only now giving up the snooze button.
There was a full day ahead of her, so she hauled herself out of bed and into the shower, trying her best to ignore the nagging nervousness that had settled in the pit of her gut. It was the last stop on the tour, and the one she’d been dreading since it began.
Not because of the location—no. As tired as she was, Amy could appreciate the beautiful old city and the palace it had been built around. Here in the center of the country, they were visiting a property that was technically still part of the royal family’s holdings, but it was administered by another noble family and used for big events. One glance at the grounds from the front entrance would tell even a casual observer that it was ripe for weddings, and, in fact, it was Stolvenia’s most popular wedding destination. You couldn’t get a booking for three years.
Not that Amy needed a booking. It was true that Artur had been pretty insistent about not dating on the trip, but she didn’t necessarily think that meant he was going to repeat his marriage proposal to her.
Today, Amy was more worried that he might swing in the opposite direction.
She stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and set about drying and styling her hair.
The fact was, Tatyana Morozov was perfect.
Amy had been no slouch when it came to planning the dates, but now that the day had come...
Had she done her job too well? Tatyana was not only beautiful. She was not only beloved by the press. She was not only funny and smart. She had not only started one but two philanthropic organizations—one that raised funds to renovate homes and public buildings for people with disabilities, and another that offered tutoring and career mentorship for teenage girls.
All that, and she had been Artur’s high school sweetheart.
The two of them would already have a natural chemistry. He’d seemed to be able to charm all the women so far, but Tatyana would be a different story entirely.
Amy pulled on a coral maternity dress and a pair of low pumps, studying herself in the mirror. She looked as chic as she could. She looked good. But would it be good enough to outshine Tatyana?
Amy laughed out loud. The point was to not outshine Tatyana. Her job was to blend into the background while she set Artur up with a woman who would be perfect for the public spotlight and help to repair relations between the royal family and the people of Stolvenia. Amy couldn’t do that. Did she even want to?
She wanted to lie in bed next to Artur and run her fingers down the ridges of his abs. That’s what she wanted to do.
But that didn’t matter when there was a day ahead of her crowded with things she needed to accomplish.
There was nothing left to do but face it.
They’d have meetings and tours of the palace in the morning, then lunch, and then a break to prepare for the gala. The gala would only highlight all the brilliant work Tatyana had done while also raising funds for her charities. She’d be a shining star, beginning with the photo op Amy had planned for the opening ceremony.
It had seemed like such a good idea when she planned it.
Nothing seemed like a good idea by four o’clock.
Amy had showered again, since touring the palace and grounds had been more of a workout than she’d anticipated. Wrapped in one of the hotel’s fluffy robes, Amy sprawled on the sectional in front of the balcony doors.
There. Now that she’d caught her breath, she could cancel her appointment with the hair stylist. She’d hired one for the event, knowing that it would be the most photographed two hours of the tour, but no.
