The Mediterranean Prince's Passion (The Royal House 0f Cacciatore Book 1) Page 9

  ‘I am very pleased to hear it,’ said Gianferro. He shot Nico another unfathomable look. ‘Perhaps I could see you alone for a moment, Nicolo?’

  Nico raised his eyebrows. ‘As you can see, I’m a little busy.’

  Ella felt her cheeks flaming. Was Gianferro trying to get Nico out of the office to warn him not to make love to her? Well, he could save his breath!

  She closed the open book on the desk and picked it up, somehow managing a cool and professional smile. ‘I was actually just about to leave,’ she said. ‘My trip here today was only intended to be an introductory one, and in future I will be working on my own.’ Her green eyes flashed Nico a warning. ‘I certainly won’t need to waste any more of Nico’s time.’

  Nico’s mouth tightened. She was playing him like a virtuoso, knowing that he would be unable to object in his brother’s presence. How dared she? ‘Will there be anything else, Gianferro?’

  ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

  Nico shook his head. ‘I don’t think you will.’

  There was a pause while the brothers’ eyes met and engaged in a silent ebony duel. ‘Then perhaps you could make me an appointment in your diary some time this year?’ returned Gianferro sardonically, and left the room with a curt nod.

  Once he had gone, and the door was closed behind him, Ella rounded on Nico, her voice beginning to tremble with rage. ‘How dare you expose me to that kind of humiliation?’ she accused.

  ‘I certainly wasn’t expecting my brother to walk in,’ he said drily.

  ‘No?’

  ‘Of course not. I would have gone to the precaution of locking the door had that been the case.’

  Ella could have screamed! He didn’t look in the least bit repentant—on the contrary, he simply looked irritated, as if he had had his fun cut short. Which, when she stopped to think about it, he had. ‘Did you think you could just come up here and have your wicked way with me? Is that what you thought?’ she demanded. ‘Your droit de seigneur?’

  ‘I wasn’t doing much thinking,’ he drawled. ‘And I hadn’t planned it, no, if that’s what you want to know.’ His eyes glittered. ‘You are just too damned irresistible, cara.’

  ‘What kind of a tramp must I have looked to your brother?’

  ‘Tramp?’ He raised his brows in surprise. ‘That’s fairly emotive language, Ella. My brother is no innocent—he won’t judge you, or me, for doing what comes so naturally to a man and a woman. I really should have locked the door…’ he said, half to himself.

  That just about did it. ‘I don’t care about him judging me!’ declared Ella, wildly contradicting herself in the heat of the moment. ‘I’m judging myself, if you must know—and I’m pretty appalled at my own behaviour!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it was wrong—you know it was wrong!’

  ‘I disagree.’ He regarded her steadily, wondering if she had any idea just how magnificent she looked when she was angry. ‘You want me, Gabriella,’ he observed coolly. ‘Don’t deny it. You know you do.’

  She stared at him, at the hot, glittering eyes and the autocratic curve of his sensual lips, and her heart flipped and there was nothing she could do to stop it. ‘Oh, I don’t deny that on some fundamental level I do—sure I do. But that’s not how I operate, Nico—women rarely do. There has to be more than pure physical attraction.’

  ‘That didn’t seem to bother you last time,’ he commented insultingly.

  ‘That’s because—’ She bit her lip, terrified of showing her vulnerability, of letting him know that she had been beginning to build all kinds of dreams about him. She had seen him for what she had believed him to be—her strong, powerful rescuer and an intelligent, provocative man. But that had been an illusion that had crumbled into dust.

  ‘Because?’ he prompted arrogantly.

  ‘Maybe I did behave hot-headedly,’ she admitted. ‘But I thought that you…’ She cleared her throat. ‘At the time I didn’t realise that you…’

  ‘Were a prince?’ he supplied drily. ‘Well, now you do, and I must say it’s the first time that it’s ever worked against me.’

  Her eyes flashed fire. ‘It’s more than that, and you know it!’

  ‘What is it?’ he grated. ‘Explain it to me! Why are you so hung up on my title, Gabriella?’

  ‘It’s not the title—’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ he challenged.

  ‘No! It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me! I don’t like dishonesty in a man.’

  ‘There is rarely total truth between new lovers,’ he bit out frustratedly.

  Maybe he was right. But it was suddenly about more than that. He’s never failed before, Ella realised. This is possibly the first time in his life he hasn’t got what he wanted—at least with a woman.

  For a moment she felt filled with a heady sense of power, but that soon fled and was replaced by something much more satisfactory. Because right then, despite everything, Ella felt his equal.

  She gave him a thin smile. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I really do want to go back to the hotel and make some notes.’

  He could see that he was going to make no further headway. At least, not right now. But there would be plenty more opportunities. ‘Okay,’ he agreed easily. ‘Let’s go. We can continue this fascinating discussion later, over dinner.’

  ‘No, we can not,’ she refuted, revelling even more in his look of surprise. But she needed to safeguard herself—not just against his sexual charisma but against her own helpless reaction to it—and to do that she needed to put distance between them. ‘I am going to spend the evening in my beautiful and lavish suite, and I shall order something up from Room Service.’

  She saw his lips part in amazement as she walked past him, her head held high, and flung the door open—though more as a protective device than anything else. The room was now on view to the whole corridor, and with servants and brothers potentially lingering in the background surely he wouldn’t dare try anything else?

  By now he was laughing softly at her extravagant behaviour. ‘Oh, but your surrender will be sweetness itself, cara.’

  ‘It isn’t going to happen, Nico,’ she replied tartly, and hoped that her words carried more conviction than she felt.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AFTER a long and luxurious bath, and a delicious supper that she ate on her terrace overlooking the harbour, Ella began to pore over the map Nico had given her. By the time she fell into bed she was exhausted.

  But fatigue did nothing to block out the images of his black mocking eyes, and when eventually she fell asleep it was to dream of Nico.

  A car picked her up the following morning, and drove her to the palace, and a servant took her to the office that Nico had shown her the day before. There was a small cut-glass bowl of scented white roses sitting on the desk, with an envelope beside it, which she ripped open.

  Inside was a note from Nico. It was the first time she had seen his handwriting and it was rather like the man himself—uncompromising and bold.

  It said: Today I have taken my bike up into the mountains. Will you have dinner with me tonight? And it was signed simply, Nico.

  She sat back in her chair and looked out of the window onto the palace courtyard. Should she?

  Well, what else was she going to do? Sit in her suite night after night, ordering up Room Service? She picked up her pen and began to make notes.

  It didn’t take her long to discover that an office was an office wherever it was—palace or not. The only real difference about this one was that it was so quiet. She hadn’t always worked from home, she had done her share in other places, where there had always been a buzz, with people stopping by for coffee, or the sound of telephones ringing and fax machines disgorging their pages. But here the silence was uncanny. Did the servants move around on noiseless feet? Probably. It hit her in a sudden rush of understanding just how lonely it would be, to be a Royal.

  She worked hard, marking out places she wanted to visit, and she was just wond
ering what to do about lunch—she didn’t imagine that there was a vending machine sitting outside the throne room!—when there was a rap at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ she called, and the door opened to reveal the tall, imposing figure of Prince Gianferro.

  Somehow she wasn’t a bit surprised.

  She rose to her feet. ‘I honestly don’t know whether or not I’m supposed to curtsey,’ she admitted.

  He nodded. ‘I think you can be excused,’ he observed drily. ‘This is, after all, a rather informal meeting. I wondered—since I believe you have been working all morning—whether you would care to see the palace gardens? After that, I could arrange to have some lunch sent here.’

  So he wasn’t actually inviting her for lunch! He wants to suss me out, she thought suddenly. She nodded. ‘I should like that very much.’

  ‘Come.’

  It was a quiet and silky command, but she thought it came to him as naturally as breathing—which, when she came to think about it, it probably did. He would have been obeyed without question since he was barely out of the cradle—how must that affect a man’s character development? she wondered. How had it affected Nico’s?

  As they emerged from the cool marble corridor into the bright sunlit gardens, she felt a ripple of sensation whispering over her skin at the thought of Gianferro’s youngest brother. She wished he were with her. He would protect her from his brother, she realised, from the searching questions she was certain would follow. Or maybe Gianferro was too subtle to interrogate her outright? Would not a man of his birthright establish and direct matters in a far more understated way?

  He paused beside a circular bed of the most heavenly roses Ella had ever seen—great rumpled globes of saffron, the petal-tips edged in apricot-pink—and the sweet scent of the massed flowers wafted up to her. She breathed it in.

  ‘Your work is going well?’ Gianferro asked casually.

  Ella nodded. ‘I can see a lot that could be done.’

  ‘Really?’ Dark eyebrows were raised in imperious question.

  It was Nico who was in charge of touristic development on the island, and Nico who had brought her here. She was not going to brief his curious brother before she had even decided herself just what plans could be implemented.

  ‘Yes, really,’ she echoed softly, and saw his mouth harden. She had not intended to be rude. She drew in a deep breath and looked around. ‘These really are the most exquisite flowers I have ever seen,’ she said quietly. ‘And such an unusual planting.’

  There was a pause while she saw his eyes narrow, and then he nodded, as if he had just learned something, but she couldn’t miss the sudden bleakness that flared at the back of the black eyes that were so like Nico’s.

  ‘They are roses named after my mother. My father had them planted after her death,’ he said flatly. ‘If you look closely you will see that the bushes form the initials of her name.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It was a thoughtful and intelligent observation.’

  Ella was too flustered to feel patronized—and besides, she did not think that had been his intention.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he continued thoughtfully, ‘since you wield much influence over my brother, you could persuade him to stop tearing around and putting his life at risk? And while you are about it a word or two about mountain climbing might prove useful.’

  Ella stared at him. She had no experience of this kind of life, and yet instinct told her that this was not a commonplace conversation for the heir to the throne to be having.

  ‘I have no influence over Nico,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I disagree. You have enough for him to bring you—an outsider—here to work for him.’

  ‘That doesn’t happen often?’

  ‘No,’ he said emphatically.

  ‘Why don’t you tell him your concerns yourself?’

  ‘You think I have not done so?’ He gave an odd kind of smile. ‘Life may move on, but relationships with siblings stay firmly rooted in the past—and so it is with my brothers. Our battles mimic those of our palace nursery! But a man who courts danger will achieve no lasting happiness. In any sphere of his life. Danger is both seductive and addictive, but Nicolo’s life is mapped out in a way that other men’s are not. His destiny is written, his path clearly defined. In all directions.’

  He was warning her, Ella realised. Warning her off! Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to kick against this rigidity and restraint. No wonder Nico courted danger—if his life was to be a straitjacket!

  She stared up at Gianferro with clear green eyes. ‘I really ought to be getting back to work,’ she said apologetically. ‘I have a lot to get through, and Nico is taking me out for dinner.’

  She hid a small, determined smile. Suddenly she found she was looking forward to it!

  Nico was just about to ring her when his mobile thrilled into life. His eyes widened fractionally when he saw the number flash up, and his lips curved into a smile.

  ‘Nico?’

  ‘Gabriella,’ he murmured. ‘I can’t quite believe it. The woman who behaved in such a cavalier fashion when I gave her my number is actually using it! What kind of day have you had?’

  ‘Productive.’ And interesting. ‘Are you still free tonight?’

  He felt the automatic quickening of his pulse. ‘What time did you have in mind?’ he said softly.

  ‘I meant for dinner,’ she said immediately.

  ‘Why, so did I,’ he returned, his voice mocking her with innocent reprimand. ‘What did you think I meant?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He smiled. He rather liked her chastened. ‘I’ll pick you up.’

  ‘Okay. About eight? Oh, and Nico?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Do you drive your motorbike very fast?’

  He frowned. ‘That’s the whole point of having one, Gabriella. I’ll see you later.’ And he hung up.

  She opened up the wardrobe, trying to be enthusiastic, but it wasn’t easy. It was all very well, defiantly bringing only the barest minimum of clothes here, but she was going to have to wear some things twice if she stayed beyond a week. And he had already seen her in the black dress!

  She stood beneath the jets of the power shower. Not that she would need to stay beyond that, she told herself firmly. She had conceived a simple idea to put to Nico, which she was certain would work—and then she could go. Before she did something really stupid, like starting to care for him.

  But you do care for him, mocked an inner voice.

  She switched the shower off with a flourish, and wrapped herself in a fluffy white robe.

  She did not care for him. She was attracted to him sexually, that was all.

  But you don’t do sex on its own, Ella, taunted that infuriating voice again. You know you don’t. And you’ve never done sex like that before.

  She had a white broderie anglaise dress that she had been saving—though she wasn’t quite sure what she had been saving it for. So after much deliberation, she put it on. It was sweet and feminine, with tiny cap sleeves that she could just about get away with. She was tempted to plait her hair, but in the end she decided against it and wore it loose—she didn’t want to look as though she was auditioning for a part in The Sound of Music!

  She was ten minutes late, and he was waiting for her downstairs, seated casually on a plush leather sofa. A man with a suspiciously bulky jacket was positioned conspicuously close by. As the lift doors opened the normal chatter of the foyer died to a hush and Nico rose to his feet.

  People were watching him—either openly or not quite so openly. Women, some standing with their husbands, positioned themselves so that they could be seen at their most flattering angle—pushing their breasts out and sucking in their already concave stomachs. But he was not looking at the women.

  He was looking at her.

  She saw him give a brief, barely discernible nod to the man, and was vaguely aware that faces were now turn
ing in her direction, their expressions slightly incredulous. And she realised how cheap her dress must look in comparison to their designer finery.

  What happened next was like some smooth, well-practised machine whirring into action. Subtle signals must have been given, for a pathway was magically formed, leaving their exit clear just as a long, low car purred to the front of the building, with a chauffeur behind the wheel.

  She realised that she had never met him anywhere quite so public before—that would explain the high-profile security.

  ‘Is it always like this?’ Ella asked, as she wriggled onto the back seat and the door was slammed shut on them.

  He turned to her, thinking how shining and fresh she looked in her simple white dress. ‘Like what?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘So choreographed. As if everything has been planned right down to the last second.’

  ‘Not quite the last second,’ he commented wryly. ‘Since you were late.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ He smiled.

  ‘Do you like it—all the fuss?’

  ‘It’s just the way it is. What I cannot change I have to accept—or my life would be intolerable. I escape it whenever I can.’

  ‘Like on the motorbike?’

  ‘The motorbike, yes—you seem to be obsessed with my damned motorbike! And, yes, before you ask—the jet-ski, too! You know what they say—big toys for big boys.’ His eyes glittered as he saw the faint rush of colour to her cheeks. ‘Now, stop asking me so many questions and tell me how you got on today.’

  ‘Not bad. I’ve got a few ideas.’

  ‘Such as?’

  She gave him a rather prim smile. ‘I’m not going to talk about it until I’ve worked it out properly. But I’ve made a list of all the places on the island I’d like to visit.’