Defying the Prince

‘Izzy, wait!’

Her hair swung with each angry stride and she didn’t pause.

‘I said wait.’ He thundered the order, injecting his tone with an authority that would have had his staff jumping. Unfortunately for him Izzy was made of sterner stuff. She carried on walking, her espadrilles crunching on the gravel path until his hand closed on her shoulder. ‘I’m not accustomed to having to chase guests round the palazzo.’

‘But I’m not a guest, am I?’ She shrugged him off. ‘Let’s drop the pretence. You can’t stand the sight of me, which is fine because I can’t stand being here. If I’m here for more than a day I’m going to suffocate in this formal atmosphere.’

‘Maledizione, will you stand still and listen when I talk to you!’ Opting for his last resort, he caught her arm and spun her back towards him but the movement knocked her off balance and her body flattened against his. The flare of attraction was immediate and fierce and Matteo sucked in a breath and released her instantly.

Blue eyes blazed into his. ‘Yes, that’s right, Your Highness, we’re jolly well going to ignore that too, because I don’t want to find you attractive any more than you want to find me attractive.’

She was the most aggravating, infuriating woman he’d met.

Ballsy one minute, insecure the next.

But always sexy.

And it was the most disturbing level of sexy he’d ever encountered. It was precisely because of the chemistry that he knew any relationship between them was absolutely out of the question. He never allowed his libido to compromise his judgement and yet with Izzy he found himself right on the edge of control. Not wanting to dwell on the fact that he’d slipped over that edge at least once, he swiftly changed the subject. ‘You’re angry because I don’t want you helping out with the concert, but frankly I have no idea what you could do to help. It’s the biggest live event of the concert calendar. And you’re—’

‘I’m what? I’m what, Your Highness?’ Those eyes darkened like the sky before a thunderstorm. ‘I’m just a manufactured pop singer? How would you know what I am? You were in such a hurry to separate me from that microphone last night you didn’t bother to listen to me singing. Say anything you like about me, but don’t tell me my voice is bad because I know that isn’t true.’

Confronted by that degree of conviction, Matteo proceeded with the caution of a man treading onto very, very thin ice. ‘I watched a few episodes of Singing Star.’

That statement was greeted by silence.

He watched as the flush spread over her pretty face and waited for her to explode in a defensive tirade, but instead she flushed scarlet and wrapped her arms around herself.

‘Oh, well, in that case I probably can’t blame you for not rating me. It was rubbish. Seriously crap.’

Thrown by that unexpectedly honest response, Matteo was forced to acknowledge that Izzy Jackson continually surprised him. ‘That sort of show isn’t there to showcase musical talent. It’s there to make money.’

‘I happen to agree. But that doesn’t mean that no one who appears on the show has anything to offer. There are all sorts of reasons why a person goes on a show like that.’

‘What were yours?’

The silence stretched on and on while the sun beat down on them. Given that she was a talker, her lack of response was all the more marked. He’d seen wicked Izzy, flirty Izzy and cheeky Izzy, but there was something about vulnerable Izzy that tugged at him deep inside.

Her slim shoulders lifted. ‘What difference does it make?’

‘You must have decided to go on the show for a reason.’

‘I’m an incurable exhibitionist as you’ve pointed out. Why perform to a hundred people if you can perform to several million?’ Her response was flippant and transparently not reflective of the truth but Matteo resisted the urge to dig deeper.

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What did it matter what her reasons were for appearing on that awful show? The less he knew about her, the better. The less time he spent with her, the better.

In fact, he should leave her right now and get back to work instead of standing here noticing that she’d caught the sun on her face.

It was obvious she didn’t expect him to nursemaid her so there was no reason for him to hang around. She could occupy herself without him.

His eyes slid to the tempting curve of her mouth and he felt that same explosion of sensation that had tormented him the night before. His brain was telling him one thing and his body another. ‘I’ll show you round.’ His hard tone reflected his own inner conflict. ‘And you’d better wear sunscreen. You’re English. You’re not used to the heat.’

Her eyes lifted to his and he knew she was thinking what he was thinking. That nothing the sun produced was as powerful as the heat they generated between them.

‘I thought you were snowed under with work.’

Battling an inexplicable urge to kiss her, Matteo took a step back. ‘That doesn’t mean I intend to neglect my duties as host.’