Free To Steal a Prince by Cora Caraway

was broke, I wanted to travel the world. I got work on a cruise ship, washing dishes and serving food.” I don’t mention that I also made a pretty penny slipping watches and wallets off unsuspecting wealthy passengers.
    “How long did you do that?”
    “Just long enough to go through the Panama Canal and cross the ocean. I hopped off in Portugal. I made enough money to explore the coast, and I kept going until I ran out of cash.”
    “That happened here?”
    “Yes. I saved a man from being pickpocketed, and he offered me a place to stay until I got on my feet.”
    “Gabe?” Damon asks.
    I nod. Gabe had asked me how I saw the pickpockets when he hadn’t felt them strike. I never told him that I’d marked him as a target myself, and I don’t plan on telling Damon now.
    “It worked out pretty well. He gave me a couch, and I brought in whatever money I could. I still owe him about a year’s worth of rent, but I also saved his wallet two more times. He’s not the most vigilant person.”
    “And you are?”
    I turn my nose up haughtily. “I tend to be aware of my surroundings.”
    “How else would you know which cars still had keys in them?”
    I wish I could disappear into the rosebushes.
    “Don’t go.” Damon pulls me closer. “I’m just needling you. If you hadn’t crashed so spectacularly, I would have laughed at the time. It was all so surreal.”
    “Yeah. 4.8 million dollars’ worth of hilarity.”
    “Don’t feel bad. It’s only money.”
    I let go of his hand, sitting heavily on a bench. “It’s only money if you have some. There’s no way for me to ever pay you back.”
    “I don’t need you to pay me back.” He sits beside me, though he leaves me some space. “I have plenty of money. Other things are more important.”
    “Like what?” I glare at him, daring him to name one thing.
    “Like curtseying.” Leaping from the bench, he dips deeply.
    He completely breaks me from my foul mood. I can’t help but laugh at how solemn and regal his movements are.
    “Don’t laugh. You need to learn these.”
    I try not to giggle my way off the bench. “Why should I? I already have a signature move.”
    “Yes, but it makes you look ridiculous.” Damon daintily lifts an imaginary skirt.
    Now I really am in danger of falling. The prince comes to my aid, pulling me to my feet.
    “Watch me, Grace. It’s not hard. Now, this is how you curtsey to your monarchs.” He bends deeply at the knees, pulling an imaginary skirt slightly behind him.
    “How do you know all this?”
    “I watched the girls for hours in finishing school. Purely for academic purposes, of course.” He flashes a rakish grin. “Don’t bend as deeply when addressing the court. And place your feet like this when meeting a foreign dignitary.”
    I stomp my foot, refusing to be ladylike at this hour. “Why do I need to know all these?”
    “In case you want to retain your dignity.”
    “Even if I ever met a foreign dignitary, how am I supposed to remember which curtsey to use?”
    Damon bows. “I can remind you if necessary.”
    I have no reservations about rolling my eyes in the darkness. I’m sure he can’t see me. Damon seems determined to teach me useless etiquette, despite the fact that I’m not even a chambermaid. Does he really think I’m going to hang around the palace long enough to use a knowledge of curtsies? It’s not like I’m going to meet the King of Russia on my way out the door tomorrow.
    “You look tired,” Damon says, perhaps a polite way of telling me that he’s tired of my belligerence. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
    Arm in arm, we walk from the garden. The scent of roses fades, making me a little sad. It feels like I’m leaving a place of magic behind.
    The crushed shells of the pathway crunch under our feet. Damon slows as we reach my balcony, as if wanting to draw the night on a little longer.
    At last, we come to the stairs. “We’re here,” I say, gently reminding him that our