Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 by Carol Marinelli (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

as she realized it sounded like she assumed she would be with him next year.

“Or pajamas,” he suggested.

She relaxed. “I’m glad they’ve been well received, but I can’t take the credit.”

“Why not? Sofia and I wouldn’t have ordered any if the option hadn’t been presented.”

Even so, the queen and former king had each preordered a hundred pair, asking that they be donated to long-term care facilities throughout Vallia. With that example set, guests were ordering in factors of ten, rather than the one or two pair Amy had anticipated.

“Do you want to visit the pajama factory while we’re in Asia?” Luca asked.

“Oh. Um...” She nearly turned her ankle again. “While you’re doing that award thing in Tokyo? I mean, yes. I’d love to connect with the manufacturer and be sure it’s a fair wage factory, like they claim. Double-check the quality.”

“Get a photo op? We’ll go together.”

“Look at you, doing my job for me.”

“I’m in the midst of a career change. Willing to try new things.”

She chuckled, more from happiness than humor, but he made her so happy. Glowingly, deliriously lighthearted and hopeful and filled with a sense that she was the luckiest person alive. Especially when his gaze swung down to connect with hers, conveying pride and sexy heat.

This optimism was strange because she had learned the hard way not to look to a man to make her happy. She knew it had to come from within, but even though she would have said she was very content prior to meeting Luca, she felt far more alive and excited now that she was with him. Colors were brighter, music more tear-inducing, her confidence unshakable.

She wondered if this was what being in love felt like—

Oh.

He steadied her, pausing to give her a small frown. “How much have you had to drink?”

“One glass. I was just...distracted for a moment,” she lied.

They resumed dancing, but her whole body was fizzing with the realization that her heart had gift wrapped itself and stolen under his tree.

She was in love with him. How it had happened so quickly didn’t matter. It had. Because this wasn’t a hero-worship crush gone wrong. Or sexual infatuation—although that was definitely a big part of it.

It was deep concern for his well-being. Admiration for his principles and intelligence and laconic wit. It was a compulsion to trust him with all of her secrets and a depthless yearning for him to return her regard.

The words clogged her throat, but it was too soon. Too public. Too new.

But as they continued dancing, she thought it with each step.

I love you. I love you.

The next days were busy.

Luca was in meetings to redefine his new role and Amy worked remotely, attempting to mitigate the damage her scandal had done to London Connection and her career.

She rarely had Luca to herself, and when she did, it was in bed. There they communicated in ways that were as profound as any conversation she might have wished to have, so she didn’t worry that they weren’t dissecting their relationship. It was growing stronger by the day.

The unrelenting media pressure only pushed them to rely on one another, rather than rending them apart. If an awkward question was directed at her, his hand would come out of nowhere to interlace with hers. When his bearing grew rife with tension over a late-night pundit’s joke at his expense, she would slide her arms around his waist, asking nothing except that he allow her to soothe him. He would sigh and gather her in.

This morning he had commented to someone, “I’m likely to be in London for the next while—”

It had been part of a broader discussion, and she hadn’t had an opportunity to ask if that meant he wanted to continue their relationship. They had agreed on two weeks, but she didn’t need to do any soul-searching. Of course, she wanted to keep seeing him!

They were both in love. She was sure of it. If that put a dreamy, smitten look on her face, she couldn’t help it.

Perhaps that’s why she was garnering so many stares right now.

Or maybe it was because this morning, she and Luca had been granted an exclusive visit to Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden to view their cherry blossoms with some Japanese dignitaries. A handful of photographers had followed them, and those shots were likely being published right now.

Either way, her phone, which was facedown on the table and set to silent, was vibrating incessantly.

She ignored it and kept her attention on Luca. He spoke at the podium, switching back and forth between Italian and Japanese so she missed much of what he was saying. She could tell there was praise for collaboration and innovation on some tech solution commissioned for Vallia. He showed a photo of a port in Vallia, then one here in Japan, highlighting some advancement that had made a difference in both countries.

One of Luca’s handlers stood behind him. The young man sent her an urgent glare.

Seriously? He could hear the buzz of her phone all the way over there?

She slid the phone off the table without looking at it and dropped it into her bag.

She had the sense of more glances turning her way, but reminded herself that a few rude stares were a small price to pay for the absolute wonder of being Luca’s... They didn’t need a label, she assured herself. None of the usual ones fit them anyway. “Girlfriend” was too high school. “Lover” was too edgy for a prince, “mistress” too eye-rollingly outdated.

Luca had been footing her bills since she’d met him. Even her charge from the hotel boutique in London had been reversed. Apparently, he’d had the clothes she’d bought that day put onto his own account.

That made her uncomfortable, but she pulled her weight in other ways. She was still managing the pajama campaign and offered constructive ideas to his team on how she and Luca were presenting themselves. They were equals.

Luca came to the good part, announcing a pair