Griffin looked over at Maylee. There were hints of smudges under her eyes. She looked tired, and it wasn’t just from last night. He suspected his grueling schedule would exhaust anyone. He knew he was certainly tired of it. He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. “Have you had a chance to see much of Bellissime, Maylee?”

She was reading emails and her lips moved, as if she were committing the information to memory. He had to repeat the question again before she looked over at him. “What? Oh, no. We’ve been much too busy for that.”

Even as she spoke, she put her hands on the keyboard and began to type again. Then, she pulled out that ridiculous Post-it stack and began to make notes. He constantly found them stuck in the back of the sedan. He’d even found one stuck to the bottom of a shoe once. Just like him, she was running herself ragged.

And for one day, he’d had enough. He thought of her excitement at the paltry souvenir stand they’d visited. How would she react when he showed her Bellissime by the light of day instead of a quick walk at night?

Griffin picked up his coffee cup. “I think I shall be sick today.”

It took a moment for Maylee to stop typing, and when she did, she looked over at him. “Huh?”

“I’m sick,” he enunciated, and took a sip of coffee. “Cancel my appointments.”

“Oh, but . . .” She looked at the computer, then back at him, frowning. “What about—”

“It’s either appointments with my mother, other titled people who want a visit from a royal, or people who want money. Tell the charities that they can send me a bill and I’ll give them what they want. Tell everyone else to sod off.”

She chuckled. “Shall I write it just like that? Lord Montagne Verdi wishes for you to sod off.”

“You can word it much nicer, of course. And then we’re going to go sight-seeing.”

Her eyes lit up, which was all that he needed to know he’d made the right decision.

* * *

After breakfast, they retreated back to their rooms to change. Griffin figured that if they didn’t want to be followed, they’d need disguises. Maylee had picked up a few touristy shirts and baseball caps for family back at home, and so they’d separated to change into jeans and the ugly silkscreened T-shirts. Griffin shoved a baseball cap over his head and frowned at his reflection. “Appalling.”

Of course, when Maylee returned a few minutes later, baseball cap over her curls and a tight T-shirt and jeans outlining her curves, he had to change his mind on their choice of clothing. Her delectable ass filled out her jeans remarkably well.

This, he decided, was a good plan.

“I brought you some sunglasses, too,” she told him, and produced a pair of plastic monstrosities with the lenses printed with the Bellissime flag.

“I have prescription glasses.”

“Yes, and everyone recognizes you in them. Can you see good without them?”

“Can you see well,” he corrected.

“I can see just fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

He sighed. “Never mind. I can see without them, yes.”

“Then put them on. It’s all part of your disguise.”

He did, and turned to give her an unhappy glare.

She choked on a laugh at the sight of him. “Very nice,” Maylee told him, unable to keep a straight face.

“The first place we are going is a sunglasses store,” he admonished her, trying to scowl and unable to in the presence of her happiness.

“Come on,” she told him, and extended her hand for him to take. “I know the back way out of the hotel. No one will see us.”

Griffin put his hand in hers and was surprised at how pleasant it was. Hers was warm and soft and reminded him of her touches last night. This was definitely getting more enjoyable by the minute.

They went through the maze of the hotel and then through the back loading dock, and escaped down a narrow alleyway, walking two blocks before coming out into the midst of the Bellissime streets. They were full of tourists, the streets garlanded with the royal family’s colors.

“Where to first?” Maylee asked him with a squeeze of his hand.

He tapped his sunglasses. “We’re getting rid of these.”

She laughed again, and they went off into the shopping district.

* * *

Griffin decided he rather liked spending time with Maylee. She was fascinated by everything, from the street vendors with wooden puppets in the shape of both the crown princess and Luke Houston, to the chocolate cakes sold on the corners. They passed plenty of stores, but Maylee was more interested in buying things to send to family than for trinkets of her own.

He got a far less embarrassing pair of sunglasses, and he let her lead the way after that. To his surprise, she was just as interested in the older buildings of Bellissime as she was with the touristy stops. Every plaque they passed by, she stopped to read and then would ask him questions. It was a pleasure walking the streets with her and telling her about his homeland, and she soaked up every word. He especially liked her intake of breath when they passed the Saine-Anne de la Vallée Cathedral, the tiny, ancient church that Alex and Luke would be married at a few days hence.

“It’s so beautiful,” she told him.

“It’s very old,” he agreed, and went into an accounting of the church’s history, dating all the way back to Charlemagne. She listened to every word with wide-eyed pleasure. Normally when he went on about his antiquities interests, people got bored or tuned out. Maylee just looked impressed and fascinated. He made a mental note that he’d have to arrange for her to travel with him on a future trip. Perhaps to Peru. Wouldn’t she be impressed with Macchu Picchu? He knew he’d found it a bracing sight, and he wouldn’t mind seeing it again, through her eyes.

Then he frowned at himself. Maylee wasn’t his assistant, but Hunter’s. She was simply on loan.

He wondered how much he could pay her to defect to him. Maylee was loyal as could be, and he wasn’t sure if Hunter would be willing to give her up, since Gretchen seemed fond of her. Of course, hiring Maylee would cause all kinds of new problems. Kip was rather possessive of his job, and the last thing that Griffin needed was two assistants. He’d have to figure out the details somehow.

“Boy, they sure like dessert here, don’t they?” Maylee asked, her drawl catching his attention. She’d paused in the street, staring at a sweets shop.

“Bellissime is very proud of its chocolate,” he agreed. “Do you want to try some?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she said, grinning.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the shop, two gelato cones in hand. Griffin had gotten a traditional chocolate spumoni and Maylee had gotten a chocolate crème de menthe, which she joked was a fancy pants way of saying chocolate and peppermint.

As they left the shop, Maylee gave her cone a lick. “Mine is amazing. I think I love Bellissime.”

He laughed. “We take chocolate very seriously here.”

She eyed his cone. “Is yours better than mine?”

“You want to give it a taste?” They moved to a nearby park bench and sat down. A fountain burbled nearby, and people strolled past, taking pictures. It was all very touristy and pretty. “I’ll share if you want.”

“If I say yes, are you going to laugh at me for eating yours and mine?”

“Not at all. I’d love to watch you lick my cone.” And he wagged his eyebrows at her.

She snorted. “Perv.” But she reached for his hand and dragged his cone toward her mouth, and then gave it a tentative lick. Then, she moaned. “Oh, my God. That’s incredible. Why is everything so good here?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth, the small pink tongue darting out to lick at his cone again, and then retreating back between those pretty, perfect lips.

And now he had a rather uncomfortable erection forming. He closed his eyes and started counting back from a hundred, even as she made little pleased noises in her throat as she ate her gelato.

“You want to taste mine, Griff?”

God, she was really going to drive him to distraction today, wasn’t she? Forget the counting. He opened his eyes and looked over at her, just as she was giving the top of her cone an open-mouthed kiss, her tongue flicking out against it. Chocolate coated her pink lips.

He leaned forward and took her lower lip in his mouth, sucking on it. “Delicious,” he murmured, and then nibbled on her upper lip while she made soft mewing sounds that drove him wild. “I think I like yours better.”

She stared at him, dazed, as he pulled away. Her lips were slightly parted, her mouth wet from his kisses. “You . . . you want to taste it again?” Her voice was breathless.

“More than anything,” he admitted. “But if I do, they’ll cite me for public indecency.”

Her gaze flicked to his lap, where his arm was carefully maneuvered over his cock. And she laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”

“Let’s discuss something that will rid me of my problem, shall we? And save the tastings for later.”

“All right,” she said cheerfully, and took a big crunching bite of her cone. After a moment, she said, “Tell me about your childhood.”

That’d do it. Talk of his family always made any sexual thoughts disappear. “Must I?”

“Well, no, I guess you don’t have to.”

Griffin regarded the fountain nearby. “I’m afraid it’s one of those revolting ‘poor little rich boy’ stories. Except when I was growing up, my branch of the family wasn’t all that wealthy. We had several estates but other than the crown’s money, we were essentially bankrupt. My mother, Her Royal Highness Sybilla-Louise, married my father because his branch of the family had an acceptable title and enough wealth to keep the family estates afloat. It was not a love match. Not even close. You’ll notice that with the exception of my cousin Alexandra, not many in the royal family marry for love.”