The Mediterranean Prince's Passion (The Royal House of Cacciatore 1)

‘Well, I have put myself in that role.’ His black eyes glittered. ‘And I am at your service, cara.’

She thought that he’d managed to make it sound like an erotic declaration. ‘Does that mean you will docilely agree to all my orders?’ she asked, as he opened the boot of the car.

He turned to look at her, a mocking yet serious light playing at the back of his eyes. ‘But you must treat your servants with respect,’ he said softly. ‘Or they will not respect you.’

And what about your lovers? she wanted to ask. How much do you respect them?

Yet as he took her bag from her and slung it into the boot of a low black limousine Ella couldn’t resist the forbidden luxury of running her eyes over him.

She had seen him looking like a beachcomber, and as a coolly elegant European, but today he was unmistakably a prince. There was something about the way his suit was cut that, even to Ella’s untutored eye, made it look about as costly as it was possible to be. His shirt was of palest blue and finest silk, unbuttoned at the neck to show a sprinkling of dark hair.

And I have seen him naked, Ella thought, with a sudden debilitating rush of pride and longing. I have held him in my arms while he thrust long and hard and deep within me.

Yeah, you and a million others, mocked the cynical voice of reason. But reason did nothing to prevent an aching heart.

Nico turned round and frowned. ‘Your cheeks are flushed, cara,’ he said quietly. ‘And your eyes are troubled—why is that?’

She buried the desire and regret, and lifted her chin in an attitude of pride. ‘Why do you think, Nico? Could it have anything to do with the fact that I have been forced to accept this assignment against my better judgement? Blackmailed and threatened to do your bidding?’

Not quite, he thought wryly. Or she w

ould be sending him a message of eager anticipation, not this outrageous defiance. ‘And you are going to sulk about it for the duration of your stay?’

‘Absolutely not. I intend to do the job I am being paid for to the very best of my ability. You asked me a question and I answered it. But if my “troubled” expression offends the Prince, then I shall replace it with a smile!’ She fixed him with a bright and mocking curve of her lips. ‘Is that better, Nico? Is that what you’re used to?’

Nico’s eyes narrowed. He had been expecting—what? That she would be secretly happy to be whisked back here to the island? That her protests were the kind that women sometimes made when they wanted something but knew that it was perhaps political not to show it? Now he was not so sure. And uncertainty was a feeling he was not familiar with.

‘Let’s go,’ he said tightly, and held the door of the car open for her.

With Nico behind the wheel they sped out of the tiny airport, waved through and bowed to by guards. A group of people who were milling around by the exit, waiting at a taxi-rank, spotted their car and began pointing at it. One or two even started waving and shooting cameras in their direction!

Ella blinked in bemusement. ‘Is it always like this?’

Nico gave a rather brittle smile. ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet.’

‘That’s rather a good American accent,’ she observed.

‘So it should be—I went to college there.’

‘Whereabouts?’

‘Stanford.’

Had she somehow thought that he had spent all his life on the island? An American education would go a long way towards explaining his easy, cosmopolitan attitude. ‘And did you like it?’ she questioned curiously.

He smiled. ‘Loved it. But I was young then,’ he said mockingly.

How little she really knew of him. She had thought that it was the big things that were important—his Royal status for starters—but in a crystal-clear moment of perception she realised that it was all the tiny things that provided the building blocks for understanding a person. People were complex, and none more than this dark, handsome figure beside her.

She remembered him telling her that he dealt with tourism on the island, and this was something she needed to know about. ‘So, do you actually have a job?’

His smile was cynical. ‘Did you imagine I’d sit around on a throne all day and be waited on?’

‘Something like that,’ she admitted, with a shrug. ‘Sorry. Tell me a bit about it—I’d like to know.’

Genuine interest was pretty hard to resist, he was discovering—but wasn’t there more to it than that? Didn’t he want in some way to redeem himself in her eyes? To show her that he wasn’t just some lazy dilettante with no real function, commitment, or purpose?

‘I’ve been concentrating on hauling the city of Solajoya out of the past and trying to regenerate it,’ he said slowly. ‘Its size and location are pretty much perfect for the media and software industries.’