Kidnapped For His Royal Heir (Passion in Paradise)

Thinking she would be left alone with Peter to conduct her tour, she inhaled sharply when Zak fell into step beside her. Violet refused to glance his way, a little resentful that he brimmed with vitality after endless hours in the vehicle, whereas she felt hot and sticky and wilted.

They were circling back to the heart of the site when a volunteer arrived with a query for Peter. He made his excuses and left, leaving her alone with Zak.

‘First impressions?’ Zak asked.

She was impressed. She couldn’t deny it, so she didn’t. ‘It’s exceptional.’

Zak nodded. ‘There will also be a Montegovan specialist on site for the first three months to train homeowners on how to fix basic things should they go wrong.’

There was a pulse of pride in his voice that threatened to destabilise the picture she’d drawn of him. Threatened to soften a place inside her she needed to keep under tight guard. Lofty thoughts of the charming Prince saving the less privileged belonged in fairy tales.

‘Should I take that frown to mean you don’t approve?’

She shook her head. ‘I approve of all this. But I’m wondering about you,’ she blurted. ‘You have thousands at your command to do all of this. Why are you here?’

He’d taken off his shades when they’d entered the lodge and now speared her with the full force of his grey eyes. ‘You want to know why I’m supervising a project that bears my name?’ he asked, his tone bone-dry.

‘Don’t you worry that people will wonder what a Harvard-educated Mediterranean prince needs to prove by digging around in the dirt? That this is really some PR stunt? Like you said, it wouldn’t be the first time a privileged royal did this sort of thing in the hope of gaining points with the media.’

His shrug was chock-full of dismissive arrogance. ‘I’m in the unique position of not having to impress anyone or caring what anyone thinks.’

Because he had the advantage of status, wealth and drop-dead gorgeous good looks?

‘Not even that you want to make a difference?’ she pressed, a little unsure why she wanted to probe so deeply.

‘The results of my work speak for themselves.’

She couldn’t deny that. Beyond his military and academic accolades, Zak Montegova had made a name for himself with his family trust. Had rivalled and in some ways elevated his family name more than his semi-reclusive brother had.

But then Remi Montegova’s loss of his fiancée had resulted in his withdrawal from the social scene and the world in general, leaving his mother and brother to become the face of the royal house.

Had that put extra pressure on Zak? Was that why he held himself so stoically? Or was that ingrained in him for another reason? Realising she was back to dwelling much too long on the enigmatic man and not enough on her professional role, Violet turned away.

Only to have her elbow snagged in a firm hold. ‘The bush might look harmless but be careful about wandering too close to it. Stick to the designated paths. You don’t know what’s lurking in there.’

Right at that moment she was more worried about the heat singeing her whole being from his touch than bugs or snakes. ‘If I spend all my time worrying about what will jump out at me from the bushes, I’ll never enjoy my surroundings.’

Peter heard her response as he re-joined them and nodded his approval. ‘That’s the spirit.’

Zak sent him a chilled glance that had the man’s smile evaporating. Muttering an excuse about checking on their luggage, Peter left again.

‘You’re not here to enjoy yourself. You’re here to work. Taking unnecessary precautions could end up inconveniencing others,’ Zak declared.

He was right. And yet his retort stung deep. ‘That’s the difference between us, Your Highness. I give myself permission to enjoy my work. And by the way, I hadn’t forgotten why I was here but, thanks, I’ll bear your concern in mind.’

‘You’ll do more than that. I can’t afford to have my schedule disrupted because of carelessness.’

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘I’ve just got here. I haven’t had time to be careless!’

His gaze flicked pointedly to the hat on her head. ‘Haven’t you?’

She snatched it off and held it out to him. ‘I’m not as fragile as you’d like to think I am. Besides, the worst of the heat is over.’

He didn’t reclaim the hat. Instead, he conducted a slow scrutiny of her body.

By the time his gaze returned to her face, she was hot and tingly all over, and it had nothing to do with the blaze of the late afternoon sun or the trail of sticky sweat meandering its way down her spine.

‘When was the last time you applied sunscreen?’ he rasped, his voice a shade deeper.