“To hate?”

“No,” he said very softly. “I saw that the terrible clothes you wore hid a very large heart and a woman determined to do what was best for her family, even if it wasn’t what was best for her. And I saw a woman who was completely out of her depth but went out of her way to make everyone around her comfortable and happy, from the staff in the kitchens, to the hotel workers, to photographers and drivers. To me, when I didn’t deserve it. You were nice to everyone, Maylee. And you were genuinely delighted to be on the trip, even though I was treating you like you didn’t deserve to be there. And you took all of my abuse because you knew the money would help your family, but I think you also took it because you are a genuinely nice person, no matter how much I tried to beat it out of you.”

She said nothing, simply scuffed her shoe and stared down at it so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes.

“And no matter how much I tried to change you, that remained the same, Maylee. That you had an unfettered joy in life and all the people who surround you, and it made me realize that I needed some of that joy in my life, too. And it didn’t matter how you were dressed. Not anymore. In fact, when I kept changing your clothes and your hair, I kept feeling vaguely unsatisfied with the results, and now I know why.”

“Oh?” She shifted, arms crossed over her chest protectively. She felt a little uneasy at his words. Was he setting her up for another fall?

To her surprise, he leaned forward and touched the curls brushing her shoulders. “I love these ridiculous curls of yours, Maylee. To me, they embody everything about you—they’re a bit wild and carefree, but they’re so full of light and sunshine that you can’t help but cherish the sight of them. They’re untamed, and they should always be so.”

His hand in her hair was distracting her, as were his words. She trembled. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love your frizzy hair. I love your slow, drawling voice and how you want to go do your faith healing on everyone you meet. I love that you listen to me ramble about my digs and never tell me that I’m boring you. I love that you never ask me about my money, or if you can spend time with the royal family, and I know that it’s because those things don’t matter to you nearly as much as I do. That I’m a person to you, not just a title or a wallet. And that’s something that I’ve never been to anyone in Bellissime.” Behind his glasses, Griffin’s eyes were serious. “And that’s why I’m falling in love with you.”

And he extended his hand back out to her. This hand is the property of Maylee.

She stared at it, thinking. Then she looked up at him.

Griffin stood in front of her, utterly stiff. His collar was askew from tugging on it, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable.

She didn’t take his hand. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.

He seemed to realize this, too. Slowly, it curled up and he dropped it to his side. “It’s funny,” he said in a soft voice. “When you’re a member of the royal family, you don’t expect to have to work for anyone’s affection. It’s a given that it will automatically be granted. I’ve never had to work at convincing anyone to like me before. I . . . I’m not very good at it.” He sounded disgusted with himself. “And I wish I knew the right thing to say—or do—to convince you of my sincerity.”

For some reason, that rueful confession convinced her more than his declaration of love. Maylee looked up at him and gave him a faint smile. “Would you kiss the dog?”

“I beg your pardon?” He tilted his head, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

“My hound, Bubba. Would you kiss him to prove to me that you love me?”

He inclined his head at her, oh so gracefully. “If I must.”

She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Bubba!”

The dog galloped out of the trailer and toward her, all flying ears, cheeks, and ropes of slobber. He stopped in front of her and she knelt to rub him with affection. “Hello, Bubba,” she cooed. “This man is going to give you a nice kiss, okay, boy?”

“He’s quite a . . . leaky fellow.”

She giggled at that. “He’s a hound. They tend to drool.”

“So I see.”

And to her surprise, he bent down and kissed the top of the dog’s head. Then, he straightened with a grimace. “I’d rather be kissing you.”

“I see that.” Lordamercy, she should be given a medal for managing to contain her laughter.

“Am I forgiven?”

“I haven’t decided. I might need you to kiss a chicken next.”

He looked resigned. “How does one even kiss a chicken?”

“Very carefully,” she said, and got to her feet, dusting her hands off on her jeans. “You’d do that for me?”

“If that’s what it takes to convince you of my earnestness, I shall kiss every bit of fowl you place in front of me.” His tone was so austere and sincere.

Her giggles escaped. “Why can’t I stay mad at you?”

“Because a man who kisses a slobbery dog simply to make his woman smile is a pathetic figure indeed?” He attempted to put a smile in his voice, but his face remained somber. “Maylee, I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings. I truly am awful at showing affection properly, especially when I’m at home and everyone expects me to act like one of the royal family, even though I’m no longer in line for the throne. It’s like I’m brainwashed into seeing nothing but how the royal family thinks things should be. But Alex broke the mold, and I can, too.” He reached out and touched her hand. “I can assure you that I never, ever encouraged Saxe-Gallia or anyone else. That was simply tabloids making up rubbish to sell papers.”

Griffin’s words were so fervent that she knew they were the truth. No matter her wounded feelings, she had to stop and think rationally. The man had grown up with a cold mother and father. How could she expect him to be wildly affectionate in a family who didn’t seem to know the meaning? Even Alex was reserved around Luke, and he was her fiancé.

Actually, she supposed that Luke and Alex were married now. Poor Luke—he’d married into a family of stiff-necked royals. Maylee smiled at that.

At her smile, Griffin seemed to relax a little. His eyes brightened. “Please tell me you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I don’t hate you anymore,” she agreed, and took his hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze.

Griffin looked a little disgruntled at that. “I rather hoped I’d be showered with kisses upon my declaration of love.”

She laughed at his disgusted tone. “I thought you royals didn’t like shows of affection?”

“I’d be willing to soldier through for your sake.”

Maylee snorted.

“Come back with me,” he said softly, and tugged her closer to him. “Let me show you my home in New York City and how dull and boring of a bachelor I am.”

“Are you a boring bachelor?”

“I am. My townhouse is full of books and dust and not a single thing to entice a woman at all.” Griffin gave her a rueful look. “And I can lure you with promises of conversation about ancient civilizations up until the early hours of the morning.”

She pretended to consider this. “Can I bring my knitting?”

“Absolutely. I would recommend you have something at hand to keep you busy while I bore you to death.”

“You’re never boring,” she said softly, and her gaze flicked to his mouth. “Not to me.”

“That’s why you’re perfect.” He pulled her in closer, his mouth angling toward hers.

Maylee pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping him before he could kiss her. “So . . . now what? I’ve forgiven you, but I left New York. It’s hard to get a job there for a girl like me.”

“You’ll come live with me,” he said immediately. “I don’t want you to work. I want you at my side every day.”

She shook her head. “And be dependent on you for everything? No.”

“Then be my equerry. My assistant. My body servant.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her at the last sentence.

She snorted again and shook her head. “You have an assistant.”

“Yes, and he’s never cut my meat for me once.” He gave her a soulful look full of pleading. “Say you’ll return with me. I can always use another assistant. I seem to recall someone telling me how incredibly helpless I was.”

“You are rather helpless,” she admitted, fingering one of the medals on his coat that had flipped over. “Do all your assistants live with you?”

“Kip does,” Griffin admitted. “My first act will be to boot him to a neighboring townhouse.”

“And me?”

“I want you in my home.”

“Until we break up? And then what do I do?” She shook her head. “It’s too risky.”

“I will pay you a hundred thousand dollars a year to be a completely terrible assistant to me. And I will sign a contract stating that if we do break up, I will grant you another hundred thousand dollars as severance pay. I don’t want you to worry about money when you’re with me.”

The money made her eyes widen, but she shook her head. “I feel like you’re trying to buy my affection.”

“If that’s the only way I can get it, then that is what I’ll take.” His arms tightened around her. “Maylee, please. Come back to me.” He wagged his eyebrows in an obvious fashion. “I have an entire bag of purloined hotel soaps and shampoos with your name on them.”

She smiled, but still hesitated.

The look in his eyes became intense. “Please. I need you.”

It was those three little words that decided her. I need you. How long had she waited for him to admit such a thing? “I’ll let you hire me . . . on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I’m only going to be your employee until I can trust you not to break my heart again.” She gave him a small, trembling smile. “When I’m comfortable with you again, I’ll quit because I know I can trust you, and I don’t want things between us to be about money.”