The Elite (Romantic Suspense)

Daphne: Explosive Endings

"Last one," Gustavo breathed, taking her hand and leading her toward a large American entertainment news outlet. Even though his expression never changed, Daphne could feel Gustavo tense as they drew closer to the next reporter. "Isabella," he greeted her warmly, intentionally pronouncing the woman's name with the emphasis on the last syllable Italians did. He paused a respectful distance away and kissed her once on each cheek. "It's good to see you again." His eyes flicked briefly to the camera behind her to see if it was recording.

"Gustavo," the host greeted him. "It's so good to see you." She paused and gave him an exaggerated once-over. "You look sharp tonight. Who are you wearing?"

The actor made a self-deprecating gesture at his suit, as though he hadn't given it any thought at all. "Head-to-toe Ralph Lauren," he said.

"It is serving you well," the host flirted, and laughed a little too loudly. Then her gaze landed on Daphne, and before she could stop it, the princess was dragged into the frame. That was the other thing she had never gotten used to: How much Americans enjoyed touching strangers.

"I hear that congratulations are in order for you both." Isabella grabbed Daphne's left hand and held it up so the camera could get a better angle of her ring. "Your Highness, congratulations. We're all dying to know how he popped the question."

Daphne forced her smile to relax and squared her shoulders. She glanced at Gustavo to see if he wanted to answer, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Odd that he wouldn't want to brag about everything himself.

The princess took a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn't planned to speak on camera. "Gus asked me at my family's home in Cardonea. We spent a week there after he returned from filming, and one night he convinced me to take a long walk through the vineyards there just before sunset. He had dinner waiting for us and proposed just as we arrived at the table."

Isabella leaned forward like a dog waiting for a scrap of meat to fall from the table, a hungry gleam in her eye. "How sweet!" she cooed. "And everyone knows how delicious Montrovian wine is." She winked at Daphne. "You could hardly have accepted if he hadn't included it!"

"It was my patriotic duty," the actor deadpanned.

Daphne forced a laugh that felt stuck in her throat. Something about this entire interaction was throwing her off balance. Quit being insecure, she lectured herself. She could do this.

Gustavo shrugged and looked down as if the praise embarrassed him. "I knew I couldn't give her an experience that she hasn't had before, so I went for simple." He brought Daphne's hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, and she willed her smile back into place. Did every recounting of this story have to emphasize that she was royal and he wasn't? Would Gustavo make those kinds of calculations for every major relationship milestone moving forward?

Something about the idea made her stomach twist

"It must be impossible to surprise someone who has the world at her fingertips," Isabella said. She'd returned to the velvety smooth tone that heightened Daphne's defenses. That tone could get you to say things you didn't mean before you realized what happened.

"I'm not sure I'll ever believe that you aren't a romantic, Gustavo." Isabella's tone was flirty, but now that the host's back was mostly to the camera, she was looking at Gustavo with a particularly menacing glare that didn't match her words at all. Daphne instinctively took a step back.

Gustavo chuckled, the same throaty sound that normally centered her. Now it grated on Daphne's frazzled nerves. She wished he would wrap this up so they could move on with their night.

Despite his unruffled exterior, Gustavo must have noticed that something was off, too. "I think she brings it out in me," he said, dropping Daphne's hand and stepping close enough to drape one arm protectively around her again.