Royal Date by Sariah Wilson Page B

either side of the living room. The windows facing out of the living room were floor-to-ceiling and seemed to overlook all of Paris. “That’s the Eiffel Tower!” I said, pointing out the window. But nobody seemed excited about it but me.
    “If you need anything else, you have only to call me,” Giacomo said as he handed all of us our own keycards. “All of the staff is staying on this floor, so we should be readily accessible. The designers’ teams should be here shortly.”
    The twins went to claim two of the bedrooms. That left two, so I supposed that Lemon and I would be sharing. We opened the doors of the two empty rooms. One had a huge bed, bigger than a king. The other had two beds. “This is us!” Lemon said. She went back and grabbed her suitcase, pulled out the handle, and rolled her luggage in. It was a pretty room, decorated in pale violets, dark purples, and silver.
    I flopped backward onto one of the beds. Not as nice as the bed at the palace, but still better than every bed I’d had growing up. We started exploring. I looked at the fancy leather-bound folder full of information about the hotel, read over the room service menus, and then went into the bathroom when Lemon called for me. The mosaic-tiled shower was big enough for twenty people and had more showerheads and gadgets than a car wash.
    “Look at that tub!” Lemon exclaimed, clapping her hands together with glee. Lemon adored a good bath, and I knew she’d make use of that jetted tub before we left.
    “Breakfast!” one of the brothers called. We came out of the room and the dining room table had a large assortment of breads and pastries. “Try this one,” Rafe said to me. “It’s called pain au chocolat .”
    I took what looked like a croissant from his hand and bit into it. There was melted chocolate inside! How had I lived my whole life and never had chocolate inside of bread before? “Are you serious right now?”
    Rafe looked confused and adjusted his glasses. “Serious about what?”
    Lemon laughed. “That means she likes it. A lot.”
    “Oh, we’ve gone past liking. I am ready to marry this thing.”
    Dante came out of his room, reminding Rafe about their first appointment of the day. They left and promised to see us later.
    Before I had a chance to go back and jump on the bed like I wanted to, there was a knock on the front door. Lemon answered it and let in Giacomo, who was followed by several severely skinny French women dressed all in black, who were pushing racks of clothes and carrying suitcases. They set the racks in the middle of the living room and then started propping up portable tables. They opened their suitcases and took out the contents, arranging them on the tables.
    “Some of these gowns have been pulled directly from the rack, some will be couture originals,” Giacomo said. “Any of them will do well for tonight.”
    This was Lemon’s grown-up equivalent of a kid in a candy store. I noticed her rack had more dresses than mine, and she started flipping through them. “I’m so excited, I’m shaking. But that could also be from all the coffee I’ve been drinking today.”
    I halfheartedly looked through them as well. All different kinds of styles and colors. How was I going to choose? I had no love for fashion. But when I found it, I knew.
    This dress was The One.
    With reverent hands I lifted the hanger off of the rack. The dress was strapless, the palest pink, and the entire bodice and full, flouncy, floor-length skirt were covered in sparkly crystals.
    “Oh.”
    By this point Lemon had already disrobed and tried on three different dresses, laying the ones she didn’t want over the back of a chair. Where a pissed-off-looking Frenchwoman was putting them back on hangers while glaring at Lemon.
    Lemon caught sight of me holding The Dress. “Did you find one you liked?”
    “I think so.” There was a tag attached to the side. I lifted it up and my eyes went wide. “Lemon, this dress is frakking