Seduced by a royal knight

CHAPTER SEVEN

A handful of female runners clattered along the path next to them, all eyeing Alessio. He turned away, not keen on being recognized. "Much as I'd like to invite you to my suite at the Plaza—"

"You have a suite at the Plaza?" Camelia interrupted, curious. "Is it as fancy as in the movies? I've only been in the lobby once."

"I don't know about the movies, but my rooms are very nice. But..."

"Too fast, isn't it?" she asked ruefully, despite her bold demeanor, not eager to jump into bed with a guy she'd just met. Well, she did, but she wouldn't.

He nodded seriously. "Paolo hasn't had time to do a background check on you." She reacted with a mock gasp, playfully hitting his arm. "Ow!" he laughed, clutching his arm. "Camelia, I'm just kidding. It's too fast because I want to get to know you better."

"Good answer," she approved, kissing his cheek. Despite her desire for Alessio, she knew there were complications—business, money, and the fact that he had his own country. Maybe a quick kiss was best. A passionate kiss on a romantic spring afternoon in the most romantic park in New York City. Camelia mentally scolded herself before pulling away, resisting the urge to do something indecent behind that tree.

Then, she realized how much her body wanted him. "What's next?" It was a bigger question than it seemed.

He took her hand again. "What would a beautiful New Yorker like to do on an unexpected afternoon away from work?"

Camelia spotted something gleaming beyond the trees. "How about the real art museum?"

"Whatever you'd like," he replied.

"That's not an option," she said, checking her lipstick with a handkerchief. "How's my lipstick?"

"Lovely," he assured her, smiling. "But I could make it smudge if I had enough time."

"I bet you could," she breathed, feeling the tension rise. "Come on, let's go."

Camelia guided Alessio up the marble steps toward the main entrance of the Metropolitan Gallery of Art. He admired the impressive multi-story façade along Fifth Avenue. "Ginevra and I used to come here almost once a month while Camelia was growing up. I haven't been since the renovations and cleaning a while back. It's quite a dramatic change."

"The dark stone really turned out to be white, didn't it?" The tall marble columns with intricately carved capitals and arched windows resembled a Greek temple, a temple of art.

"Are you sure you don't mind accompanying me to the historical costume exhibition? Most men aren't terribly interested in women's clothing—let alone how to mend them," she remarked, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks. He chuckled at her bluntness and offered his elbow for her to take. She accepted, and they began to ascend the grand steps.

"But I'm actually quite interested in women's clothing. Didn't I prove that by flying all the way to New York to see wedding dresses?"

"It was very thoughtful of you to come." She impulsively squeezed his upper arm. No, not just thoughtful. His expensive Italian suit concealed an equally impressive body. "I try to do everything Ginevra asks of me," Alessio smiled at her. "Her favorite childhood book was about siblings living in this gallery. I was worried she might try the same thing, so I brought her here whenever she asked. If I couldn't, then my friends Jack and Frank did." He held the door open for Camelia, and they approached the ticket counter.

"Two tickets for the gallery and the costume exhibition," she told the museum attendant, reaching for her purse. Alessio placed his hand over hers. "My treat, I insist."

He fumbled for his slim wallet in his coat pocket. "No, no, you're not kidding," she insisted, reaching for her tote once more.

"No," he said firmly, handing a credit card to the worker, who quickly swiped it through the reader to avoid any further delays. Camelia clenched her lips together and accepted her ticket. They entered the exhibition hall lobby, and she pulled him to the side.

"See, just because you're a prince doesn't mean I can't afford to pay for museum tickets," she said, giving him a pointed look.

"Do you think I paid because I have significantly more money than you?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes."

"No," he replied, taking her hand. "I would pay for your ticket with the last money I owned because I'm a man and you're a beautiful lady who makes me laugh and enjoy myself. Unfortunately, that's a rare occurrence for me."

"Come on," she gestured with her free hand.

"No, thank you," he said, grabbing her other hand. "I know I've enjoyed many privileges in my life, but free time isn't one of them."

"Exactly," she agreed, squeezing his hands. He had called her beautiful, so she'd give him some space. Well, a lot of space. "Let's not waste any of our precious time. Shall we go to the costume exhibition?"

"Absolutely. Then we can see anything else that you'd like," she offered. He offered her his arm once more, and they followed the signs to the exhibition.

"I've already seen most of the regular collection, so your special exhibition sounds just fine," he said.

"What about the arms and armor collection? Men usually like that," she suggested.

He sniffed disdainfully. "We have a much better collection at home."

"What? Better than the museum?" she asked, surprised.

"I'm just kidding," he teased, poking her playfully. "But we do have some arms and armor at home."

"At the local museum," he clarified. "But the armor used to be in my home."

"You got tired of visitors wandering through to check it out?" she guessed.

"If all visitors were as lovely as you, I wouldn't mind that," he joked. She giggled. "I'm just kidding, Camelia. I'm privileged to serve my people, not the other way around."

"Okay, then," she said, releasing him. For a prince, he wasn't very haughty. Not that she knew much about royalty. He draped his arm over her shoulder and pointed to the exhibition entrance. "We are right here."

Camelia gave a sigh as she and Alessio entered the dimly lit lobby. "Now this is what I call a real art exhibition." Precisely positioned spotlights illuminated life-sized mannequins in elegant 1890s ball gowns. "Very elegant," Alessio agreed. "And little risk of tetanus."

Camelia got as close to the mannequins as she could without getting kicked out of the museum and examined the fine details of the dresses. They were satin, velvet, and silk. The silhouette was a fitted bodice flowing out to a slight bustle and then fabric draping down to the floor in a small train. The embroidery was intricately done with jewels, pearls, and jet accents. Butterflies and flowers, swirls and loops.

"Maybe I haven't been taking advantage of Aunt Barbara's skills. She could do this in her sleep."

"The woman who will embroider Ginevra and Frederick's initials on her, um, underskirt?" Alessio recalled. Typical brother.

"That's her. She'll be disappointed she missed you." The inevitable understatement of the century. A real-life prince and princess came to far-off Splendor Wedding Plans and Aunt Barbara was sitting in the gastroenterologist's waiting room. She'd only get to meet Ginevra when she came for her fittings.

The next rooms showcased activewear, a forward-thinking concept in the late 19th century. While playing tennis in a floor-length dress or riding a bike in a wool skirt and suit jacket didn't appeal to Camelia, she recognized the historical significance of expanding women's activities. More ball gowns followed this time in a flowing, turn-of-the-century style with Asian-influenced closures and draped tunic designs. Another set of innovative ideas for her.

"Art Nouveau, one of my favorite periods," Alessio remarked, admiring the Tiffany stained-glass windows and classic Italian opera posters. "Oh, my God, me too! I just love Gustav Klimt's painting with the man and woman embracing surrounded by all that gold and jewel tones."

"The Kiss," his gaze dropped to her lips. She licked her mouth, suddenly dry. "Yes, it's known as The Kiss."

"Have you been to Vienna to see it?" he inquired. She chuckled, and the spell was momentarily broken. "No, I haven't ventured to Vienna yet. Or anywhere east of the Atlantic Ocean".

"It would be nice for you to go." With what money? She took his hand and pulled him along. He was a sweet guy, but there was a significant difference and financial gap between them.

"Maybe someday. Oh, check out the suffragettes' costumes. Very masculine."

Alessio stood patiently nearby, not fidgeting or checking his phone as she examined the dresses in the remaining rooms. She wanted to take photos, but the light was too dim to capture the details. They exited into a gift shop with several replica jewelry items and books on art and fashion of the era. Alessio picked up the hardcover, full-color photo book that accompanied the exhibition.

"Can I get you a little souvenir, a memento of our evening together?" he asked.

"That book's not exactly little," she noted. Nonetheless, she was eager to get her hands on it, especially to examine the beading and embroidery in close detail. "I'll carry it for you if it's too heavy." His green eyes sparkled.