Best of all had been his meetings with Sebastien, Laurent, and Elias, the CEO of Aquilla. Max had been forthright with everyone, telling them that while of course he wanted the estate to make money, he also wanted it to mean something. “I don’t even know what that means,” he’d said. “I don’t know anything.” The four of them had decided to write a mission statement that would govern the running of the estate and the company, and they’d each come to the table with a draft, which had launched them into a lengthy and useful discussion they agreed to continue in person when Max was back after Dani’s family’s January 6 celebration.

He hung up the phone early one morning to Dani setting a cup of coffee in front of him. He nodded his thanks, but she only let him take one sip before she took the cup away from him, straddled his lap, kissed him, and said, “I only caught the tail end of that conversation, but I have to say you sounded remarkably like a person with a job.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He grinned against her lips. “You know what people with jobs make?”

“No. What do they make?”

“They make excellent husbands. Will you marry me?”

She laughed and kissed him again. “Not yet.”

By New Year’s Eve, Dani had quit her job.

“So that’s it, I guess,” she said when she’d finished reading the latest email on the matter from her now-former boss out loud to Max, who was puttering around in her tiny kitchen. “You have a job now and I don’t.” She had quit her job just before her tenure review was meant to start. It kind of took her breath away. She was being either epically stupid or audaciously bold. She was going to write her novel and see what happened. If it worked out, it worked out. If it didn’t, she’d have to figure out something else. Regardless, she was moving to Eldovia. Sort of. They were keeping the New York apartment, though. According to Max, they were going to come and go, “whenever the hell we want to, separately or together.” She had to admit, it sounded like a pretty good life.

Max appeared from the kitchen holding a bottle of champagne and two flutes and regarded her. “How do you feel?”

“I feel . . . a lot of things.”

“And what are those things?”

“Excited. Scared. A little bit stunned.”

He handed her a glass, filled it, and sat next to her.

“This is really going to be okay?” she asked.

“What is ‘this’?”

“Us. This thing we’re doing. I don’t even know what to call it. Coming and going between here and Eldovia. Dating, I guess. Can a duke date? And you were the one who was supposed to make changes on the job front, not me, remember?”