The Royal's Baby Proposal

“Order up!” the chef calls out and I instinctively glance around the dining room to see who’s going to answer the call of duty.My bartender is engrossed in sports on the big screen that’s mounted in his corner of the restaurant.Server #1 is batting her eyelash extensions at a local sailor/fisherman, who I know owns nothing grander than a dingy dinghy with the equivalent of a play-toy motor attached.Server #2 is filing her nails and snapping her gum.Server #3 has just plopped into a rickety seat at the table where his only customer is hunkered down for the rest of the summer, it seems, and joins him in a hand of five-card draw. For money.I do a double take on that one. Seriously, the guy’s barely made ten dollars in tips today, and he’s going to play poker?I shake my head. Maybe that’s how he pays his rent.I’m clearly the only one interested in the food delivery, so I make a beeline for the window to grab the hot pastrami on rye with French fries, along with the ticket—so I can

I am sufficiently mind blown. And yet…“How so?” I find myself asking, riveted once again. Intrigued. Swept away.“There’s something I want,” Nick Angelini tells me, intriguing me further. “Something I’ve wanted for some time that I can’t quite wrap my hands around. No matter what angle I take, as soon as I’m close to securing this one thing that eludes me, it slips through my fingers. So I need a different course of action, a different approach. This is it.”I stare a bit harder at him. “You’ve lost me. What is it that you want, Mr. Angelini?”More accurately, what could this man possibly desire that he can’t simply procure for himself?Surely, he has the means for even his wildest ventures.“It’s Nick, remember?” he murmurs, his grey-green irises shimmering in the golden light. Seducing me even more.“Sure. Nick.”I like his name on my tongue.I especially like how he gazes so intently, so heatedly at me.I’m about to press him more deeply as to what it is that he’s in search of.Bu

Somehow, my feet carry me to him. Thank God something’s functioning properly. For sure, my brain isn’t. Nor is my heart. Not even my pulse. The beats are erratic and thunderous. Everything seems to be a jumbled mess within me.My entire existence has become surreal.I’m in this gorgeous house with this gorgeous view and this way-beyond gorgeous man and I’m doing everything in my power not to smile like a complete, utterly giddy schoolgirl. I’m also trying to breathe normally, but that’s proving impossible.He grabs a spoon from a drawer for me to sample the bisque as he tells me, “In addition to the soup, we’re having Blue Point oysters, soft shell crab, white fish carpaccio, lobster tails, and stuffed filet mignon, Oscar style.”I stare at him, astonished. I still can’t find my voice. And my heart is doing this odd fluttering thing now. My stomach is also getting in on the action.Eventually, I manage to say, “That’s the six-course tasting menu I proposed to Cristoff when he intervie

Nick is staring at me in such a way that I’m convinced he can see straight into my soul.It remains a deep, penetrating gaze that makes it difficult for me to breathe, because it’s so captivating. He is incredibly, hypnotically intense. A mesmeric force.And I’m…Drowning.In his glimmering grey-green eyes. In the heat and the power that radiates from him. In the scent of him that constantly holds me hostage every time he’s close enough for me to inhale the dark, masculine fragrance.My stomach knots with concern over what the hell I’m getting myself into—and I’m not just thinking of the “baby deal.” I’m thinking of the entanglement with this man that isn’t supposed to happen, but it is happening.I consider the movie reference again, and how confident Richard Gere’s character was that he could stay emotionally, romantically detached for the week he spent with his “hired help.”I have no clue how Nick Angelini feels about this, but I suspect he’s supremely confident, as well.I also b

Concierge healthcare, it turns out, is pretty epic.The limo picks me up after Nick has returned to Europe. It delivers me to the estate. I am then whisked away via a fancy and amped-up golf cart that takes me to the guesthouse. Didn’t know there was one, but surprise! It is as elegantly appointed as the main house and boasts three bedrooms. Nowhere near the size of the home I will occupy if all goes well with the tests, but still impressive.One bedroom is designated as my “personal comfort” room. Aka for us common folk, an examination room.It’s filled with high-tech equipment and an official exam bed that is completely tricked out. The bells and whistles are astonishing. And I have a dedicated attending OB/GYN, Dr. Shaw. She’s quite lovely and has a PA named Lavinia. They’re gracious and wholly apologetic about the invasiveness of the procedures I’m about to undergo. Even going so far as to tell me that they’ll be draining a lot of blood, but “please don’t be alarmed.”I suffer thr