Free I Want You for Christmas: The Prince's Lost Princess - a Heartwarming Snow-Capped Holiday Romance by Holly Rayner, Lara Hunter

don’t know, the press? It seems like every time I start to trust someone, they sell out. The paparazzi are willing to pay big bucks for a scandalous picture, and everyone has their price. It makes it hard to trust anyone who isn’t…like me.”
     
    “You mean someone who doesn’t need the money.”
     
    Luca nodded. “Someone who doesn’t need the money and who understands what it’s like to be a royal. The pressure is so intense, sometimes it’s just nice to be with someone who gets it.”
     
    Gaby tried to ignore the sting that comment left. What would she know of his life, being a commoner from Queens?
     
    Still, she found sympathy for him. It was obvious that the Prince led a lonely life, and she really couldn’t imagine how hard it would be not to trust anyone. People could be manipulative and two-faced, and she had learned that only on a small scale in high school. Having people do it all your life just to take advantage of the associated fame or to earn a quick buck…that must be rough.
     
    “I’m sorry, Luca. That sounds really hard.”
     
    Luca lifted his gaze to meet hers, and they stared at one another in the silence of the kitchen. Gaby wondered what he was thinking; his gaze was so piercing. Finally, he broke eye contact, looking into his wine glass.
     
    “Nothing to be sorry for. What do I have to complain about, right? I’m a wealthy aristocrat with the world at my fingertips.”
     
    Gaby walked over and laid a hand over his as his fingers toyed with the rim of his glass. His hand froze then, and he looked up at her.
     
    “You’re also very alone, and I can see that. Pain is not something that can really be compared. Your trust and faith in people has been lost. You put on this image because it keeps you safe from getting hurt, but I can see there’s a sensitive, lonely person underneath. You deserve to have a life filled with laughter and family, Luca. I may not be a royal, but I know what that feels like, and I know that it’s something everyone deserves.”
     
    Luca stared at Gaby with an intensity she had never before experienced. As he leaned in closer, she knew he would kiss her, then. Part of her wanted that more than anything. Another part of her, the nasty little rational voice that always won out, reminded her what a terrible idea it would be. Gaby stepped away and turned back toward the pasta dough.
     
    “The dough should be ready right about now,” she said, pulling out a rolling pin from a nearby drawer and powdering the table with flour.
     
    She didn’t dare make eye contact with Luca again, but she could feel him approach her, standing close behind. She sprinkled the table with flour and began to roll.
     
    “Can I try?” Luca asked, and Gaby turned to him, smiling up into his eyes.
     
    “Of course.”
     
    He grinned back down at her, taking the rolling pin from her fingers and dusting some more flour on top.
     
    “That’s really good Luca!” Gaby said as he rolled the dough into a thin circle.
     
    Once it was thin enough, Gaby rolled it up and took a sharp knife, cutting the roll into little slivers, which then unraveled into noodles.
     
    “Wow!” Luca said, staring at the fettuccine-shaped strands. “We did it!”
     
    “Not quite; we still need to cook it,” Gaby said. “Can you find me a pot and some water?”
     
    “Aye aye, captain!” Luca said, searching through several cupboards until he found a large silver pot.
     
    He filled the pot with water, and the two of them sipped some more wine as the water quickly came to a boil, and Gaby tossed in the pasta. After a few minutes, Gaby pulled the pot from the burner and drained the water, and Luca found two bowls, which Gaby filled. In the refrigerator she found some loose parmesan cheese and poured a dollop of olive oil into both bowls. She topped them off with a sprinkle of cheese each, and the two of them took a seat at the small wooden kitchen table.
     
    “I used to eat my cookies in