Principessa Diana

Chapter Five: Diana

Disclaimer: 'Dear Prudence" is copyright © the Beatles. I make no claims of ownership.

After the shock of discovering that Dave was attracted to me and wanted to turn our evening drink into a date had worn off, I was slowly starting to relax in the older man's presence once again. I considered this a major achievement on my part. I was usually an anxious mess on dates and guys never called me again. It wasn't like that with Dave though. He had this amazing ability to make a person feel completely at ease in his company. After only a few minutes of talking to him, you felt like you had known him for years.

"So, what got you into writing?" Dave asked as he took a sip of his scotch.

After finishing dinner, we had moved to the small sitting room of Dave's suite for a drink. We were both seated on the small sofa but he had been considerate enough to give me a wide berth. "I've been shy and introverted my whole life." I pulled my feet up and tucked them underneath me. "At first, when I was a kid, I tried to fit in. I believed my parents when they told me that the more I socialized, the better I'd get. I spent all of elementary school forcing myself into uncomfortable situations in a vain attempt at fitting in. The only good thing that came out of those years was that I learned that I loved to write... and I was good at it. By the time I was twelve and shopped off to boarding school in France, I had figured it out. I was way better at writing about the real world than I was at living in it... and that's what I've stuck to ever since." I tucked a piece of my dark brown hair behind my ear and giggled nervously. "That was probably way more than you wanted to know when you asked that question."

"Actually," he reached out and took my empty glass out of my hand, setting it on the tiny wooden coffee table. "That's exactly the answer that I was looking for. Do you know what I love about introverts, cara?"

"What?" I asked, biting my lip.

"When they grant you the privilege of getting to know them, everything they share with you is 100% honest and real. To a man that's been married three times, transparency is appreciated at this point." He chuckled as he refilled his glass, silently asking if I would like another.

I shook my head no. "Three times?"

He simply held up three fingers and wiggled them before explaining, "I used to be too focused on my job with the FBI when I was younger. I left the job once, for my last wife. That's when I started writing and, like you, I discovered that I was pretty good at it. My marriage was already too far gone to be saved at that point but I got a nice paying second career out of the deal."

"Why did you go back to the FBI?" I asked curiously. David Rossi was the go-to name in the true crime genre. There was no way he needed the government paycheck.

"After a while, I got sick of just writing about the job..."

"You actually wanted to live what you were writing," I finished for him.

He nodded and smiled. "Yeah... sounds like you know exactly how that feels, mia stella."

"I do," I blushed and looked away.

"If I wanted to read one of your books... what book contains the best representation of you? All fiction authors have that one character that is based on themselves. What's yours?"

That was a question that I most certainly not been expecting. He was right of course. All authors had that one character. But did I really want to admit to mine? It was kind of embarrassing.

"I would never laugh at you, cara." Dave looked over and caught my eye.

"Eden James in Love's Bounty," I admitted.

"The shy, reclusive writer daughter of the President." He downed the rest of his glass. "I had kind of already guessed that." Had he actually read more than one of my books? He got to his feet and held out his hand to me as one of my all-time favorite songs started to drift from his iPod. "Dance with me, Principessa Diana?"

I think that was the first time in my life that I wasn't scared by a man reaching for my hand. Taking it, I let him pull me to my feet and into his arms, although once again he still kept a respectable distance. My arms were on his shoulders and his hands were on my waist. It was almost comical. It was like we were two teenagers at the middle school dance as we swayed to the music.

"Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?

Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day.

The sun is up, the sky is blue,

It's beautiful and so are you.

Dear Prudence, won't you come out and play?"

At this point in the song, I had grown a little bolder and moved my arms from his shoulders to loosely drape around his neck. Following my cue, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tighter against him.

"Dear Prudence, open up your eyes.

Dear Prudence, see the sunny skies.

The wind is low, the birds will sing,

That you are part of everything.

Dear Prudence, won't you open up your eyes?"

As I stared into the dark brown eyes of my dance partner, I was both thrilled and terrified. For the first time ever, I was looking at a man who knew how to get past my carefully constructed walls. David Rossi had the power to emotionally destroy me if I let this go any further. Was that a risk that I was willing to take?