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

Just for one night.

One beautiful make-believe night.

Cure it?

How the hell was she going to do that? By playing dumb? By feigning ignorance? By saying in a cool, collected way, What the hell are you talking about?

No. He had had a lifetime of people telling him what they did not mean. Skating over the surface. Hours of conversation that was not real conversation, merely superficial small talk. If she was going to take anything away from her brief fling with him, it was going to be honesty.

And pride.

‘I know that, Nico,’ she said, and her voice was almost gentle. Funny, that. How softness should appear from nowhere, utterly concealing the shattering knowledge that this would be the last time. But it wasn’t his fault. Not really. He was the man he was, not the one she wanted him to be.

He frowned, as if this was not the reaction he had been expecting. ‘I’m twenty-eight,’ he grated. ‘And I don’t want to settle down. With anyone. I don’t need to settle down. And when I do it’s going to be with someone—’

‘Someone suitable,’ she cut in wryly, seeing his narrow-eyed look of irritation. But hell, hadn’t he interrupted her enough times in the past? ‘I know that, too, Nico. Why the hell are you bothering to tell me all this?’

And why now? Couldn’t he have waited until the morning and left her with the memory beautiful and intact? Not tarnished with the bitterness of truth.

She sat up, the turmoil of her thoughts almost making her forget that she was naked until she saw the smoky response of his eyes. He reached for her, as if conditioned to do so, but she shook him off. ‘Don’t,’ she said steadily. ‘Please don’t touch me.’

There had never been a situation in his life that he could not charm his way out of, but he could see that she meant it. Stubborn, obstinate woman. He stifled a sigh. ‘Come on, let’s go and eat something.’

But Gabriella shook her head. How easy it would be to gloss over it. To go downstairs to his kitchen and let him seduce her with his cooking and conversation, to sip wine and become lulled, so that eventually the stark reality would fade into the background. And then they would kiss again and make love—only it would not be the same—how could it be? Because, despite the odds being stacked against them having any kind of future together, that hadn’t prevented a stupid side of her hoping that maybe they could.

But his words had destroyed all hope, and without hope what was left?

Pride, she reminded herself. She still had that.

‘No,’ she said, shaking her head, trying to keep the sadness from her voice. ‘There is no point. I want to go back to L’Etoile right now, and tomorrow morning I’m catching a flight back to England.’

He swore softly. ‘Damn you, Gabriella,’ he responded, and his words were equally quiet, but tinged with acid. ‘I’ve been honest with you,’ he said bitterly, wishing that he had said nothing until the morning. ‘Why can’t you just accept that?’

‘Accept your terms without question, you mean?’ she asked stiffly. ‘Terms which don’t give a stuff about my feelings? Sorry, Nico, but you can’t have it all ways. You can’t play the poor little misunderstood Prince who needs to keep his identity secret because of all the baggage that goes with his title and then turn round and arrogantly demand the unquestioning obedience which is part and parcel of that title!’

‘How dare you say that to me?’ he demanded.

‘How dare I?’ Her green eyes flashed fire at him. ‘I’ll tell you how I dare! Doesn’t the fact that we’ve just made love give me any rights at all? Or do you treat all your women as though they are commodities? To be used until they begin to threaten you, or make demands on you which aren’t part of your Royal game plan?’

‘That is enough!’ he rapped out.

‘No, it is not enough!’ she retorted. ‘Maybe it’s time someone started responding to you as a normal human being—but you can’t take it when they do, can you? You profess to hate the restriction of Royal life, but you can’t wait to hide behind it when it suits you!’

‘Hide?’ he echoed furiously. ‘Me? Hide?’

Ella gave a cynical laugh as she realised she really had struck home. ‘So I’ve offended your macho image, have I, Nico?’ she questioned, and her eyes were sparking a challenge at him. ‘Don’t you know there’s more to being a real man than jumping on motorbikes and endangering your life into the bargain?’

‘Enough!’ he snapped.

But she was driven on by a need so relentless that she could not have stopped even if she had wanted to.

‘You say that you have a problem with Gianferro? Well, I’m not surprised—he’s worried sick about you! Just how long do you intend to carry on being “The Daredevil Prince”, with your crazy stunts? Until you’re an old man of fifty—tearing up the mountain roads on a motorbike? How sad it that?’

‘I am not listening to another word of this!’ he raged. ‘I’ll wait for you downstairs!’

‘Yes—run away, why don’t you? You’ll probably spend the rest of your life running away from the truth!’

For a moment there was an incredulous silence. ‘Running away?’ he echoed.