Did royalty even worry about such mundane things as dry cleaning? Of course, people may think a member of the prestigious Dane family didn't, either.
Bracing her hands on the shoe island in her closet, Victoria bowed her head and sighed. She'd never felt out of control, never felt so overwhelmed that she wanted to burst into tears, but she was definitely there now.
How had her life become so out of control? How had all of her decisions, goals and dreams slipped away and turned into something else she didn't even recognize? She'd never had a problem designing before. But now that she was married and struggling with her rapidly growing emotions, she just couldn't concentrate.
Between work and Stefan, she was a mess of jumbled-up nerves.
Tears pricked her eyes, her throat burned and she shook her head. No. Tears solved nothing and feeling sorry for herself wouldn't help put life back on track where she was comfortable.
"Well, this is nice to see." Stefan entered the closet, eyes roaming over her matching lace bra and panty set she was left standing in. But when his gaze landed back on her face, all joking and sexual looks vanished. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
He closed the gap between them, taking her in his arms and holding her against his chest. And wasn't that just like him? Always ready to comfort, always ready to rescue the distressed damsel?
Victoria sniffed. "I'm just being overly dramatic today. Chalk it up to being female."
"Well, honey, you've been female the whole time I've known you, and it takes a lot to bring a strong woman like you to tears." He eased back, swiped at her damp cheeks and stared into her eyes with the compassion she'd always known from him. "Want to talk about it? Is it work?"
She had to be honest. He was her husband, after all, so they should share everything. And in some ways he knew her better than she knew herself, so he would most likely know if she was holding something back.
"I think everything just hit me," she told him. "Work, marriage. It's all moving so fast, I don't feel like I'm in control anymore."
He kissed her forehead. "You're in control, Tori. You just always put this pressure on yourself to excel and be the best, which is great, but sometimes you need to give yourself a break."
She studied his face, that handsome face that so many women dreamed about, and smiled. "Is that what you would do? Take a break?"
He shrugged. "Probably not, but I don't like to see you upset."
"You don't get upset?"
"Upset? No. I do get angry, which fuels me to work harder."
Her smile spread wider and she tilted her head.
"I get it," he said, laughing. "Those were angry tears?"
"Frustrated tears," she corrected. "But at this point, same thing."
He leaned forward, kissed her gently and stepped back. "Why don't you throw on some clothes and meet me downstairs."
Comfortable with her body, Victoria placed her hands on her hips. "Now I know the honeymoon's over." She laughed. "I'm standing here nearly naked and you're telling me to throw on clothes."
Heat instantly filled his eyes as he raked his gaze over her. "Oh, believe me, I'm having a very hard time being noble here, but sex isn't what you need right now. Just get dressed and come downstairs. Or wear that, but my guard will see more of you than I'm willing to share."
Stefan turned and left, leaving her staring after him.
Some married women didn't have a tenth of the connection she had with Stefan. And even though they married under less than traditional circumstances, she knew she had a good thing going...if she could just keep her emotions in check.
She threw on a pair of white shorts and a flowy green top. After sliding into a pair of gold sandals, she made her way downstairs. She didn't see the guard by the door, but she knew he wasn't far. Thankfully he did try to stay out of sight and give them privacy.
Victoria saw Stefan through the patio doors. She crossed the living room and walked out the open set of French doors to the warmth of the evening SoCal sunshine.
Stefan sat on one of the plush outdoor sofas she'd recently added and Victoria took a seat next to him.
"What's that?" She pointed to the small folder he held on his lap. "Did you draw some secret, magical designs you're willing to share with me?"
He laid the folder on her legs. "Open it."
Intrigued, she pulled back the cover flap and gasped. "Stefan..." Page after page, she shuffled through designs and even some of the crazy doodling she'd done as a teen. "Where did you get these?"
"I kept them."
She eyed the papers, yellowing around the edges, and looked at him. "But...why?"
With a shrug, he turned to face her. "When you came to visit, you were always doodling and talking about being a designer. Sometimes I'd keep the papers you left laying around. I knew you'd make a name for yourself because you've always been so determined. You had such pathos, a passion, for designing." He laughed. "Even then you would sketch random images to help you think clearer."
Emotions clogged her throat and, dammit, for the second time today she was going to cry. Even all those years ago he'd had faith in her.
"These are, well...terrible." She laughed through watery tears.
He put a hand over hers, taking his other hand to cup her chin and hold his gaze. "They may be terrible to you, but they were your dream, Victoria. Look at them. Look close. You may see something ugly, but I see a promise that a young girl made to herself."
Oh, God. How did the man always know what to say?
"You're right," she whispered. "I just can't believe you kept them."
His hand dropped from her face. "Maybe I wanted to keep them so that when you became famous I could sell them."
A laugh burst from her. "You're so rich, you never would've thought to sell these."
His eyes settled on hers, and the heat she saw staring back at her had the smile dying on her lips.
"Maybe I saw the talent," he told her. "Maybe the crush I had on you prompted me to keep them."
Victoria's heart clenched. "Stefan, you didn't have feelings for me then."
"I did," he confessed. "I may have been young and foolish, but I did care more for you then than any other girl I knew."
Victoria couldn't handle this. Couldn't think what that revelation could've meant for the course of their relationship had he told her his feelings at the time.
"I'd hate to think if we dated seriously as teens or in our twenties we would've lost each other as friends. Besides that, you would've disappointed all those ladies," she joked. "Good thing you grew out of it, huh?"
Something she didn't recognize, or didn't want to recognize, flitted through his eyes. "Yeah, good thing."
As Victoria looked down at her designs, she remembered dreaming as she'd been drawing them. Dreaming of her wedding day, of her groom waiting at the end of the aisle.
And in all her dreaming, that man had been a prince. A prince who knew her inside and out, who cared for her as a friend and lover, who would do anything to make her happy.
Victoria could no longer deny that she was teetering on the edge of falling in love with her husband, and that out-of-control emotion scared her to death.
Eight
Stefan sat back and watched the chaos-otherwise known as dinner with his in-laws-which was becoming a little too hearth and homey to him between the newlyweds and the babies.
Bronson and his wife, Mia, took turns holding and feeding their little Bella, whom he believed Victoria told him was almost a year old now.
Victoria's other brother, Anthony, was holding histwo-month-old baby girl as Charlotte fed the eighteen-month-old Lily in her high chair.
And through all the cries, spit-ups and diaper changes, the Grand Dane of Hollywood, Olivia Dane, sat at the head of the long, elegantly accessorized table and smiled. Either the woman didn't realize that in a year or so her immaculate Beverly Hills home would be a giant playground or she was so in love with her family she didn't care that her fine china could end up in millions of shards on her marble floor.
"Bella, no, honey."
Stefan glanced to the other end of the table where Bella was throwing some orange, liquid concoction onto the floor. Why did all baby food look like already recycled dinner in a jar?
"Oh, don't worry about it." Olivia waved a hand. "Marie can clean it up when she clears the table later."
"No, I'll get it." Mia came to her feet and whipped out a bunch of wipes from who knows where. Obviously moms had a knack for always being ready for anything.