My Forbidden Royal Fling

Once more my eyes find the sea and something like excitement lifts my heart. For three days, I’ve escaped my normal life—no press, no intrusions, no pressure. I can do what I want, so long as no one finds out...

The car brings me to the biggest boat in the marina—naturally—a white yacht the size of several houses with tinted windows and several decks. I stare up at it from the back seat of the limousine, conscious of the wig hanging tight around my ears and the Lycra of the bikini against my skin. Naturally I’m wearing more than just the bikini—in fact, to the outside world, I look demure and business-like in a pair of cream trousers and a simple lime-green shirt tucked in at the waist. My shoes are flat, but definitely not boat shoes: in my defence, I didn’t anticipate yachting as part of the trip.

My security agents scan the boat from the nearby dock and a moment later are met by members of Santiago’s staff. I watch in amusement as they enter into discussion. For a moment it looks a little heated, so I step out of the car while they’re distracted, approaching from behind.

‘Is there a problem?’

One of my guards turns to face me, his features showing consternation. ‘No, ma’am. It’s just a matter of logistics.’

Santiago’s staff member speaks over the top of him. ‘Mr del Almodovár values his privacy and has requested your company. Alone.’

My lips twitch in amusement, even when I know I should be annoyed. After all, I’ve told him I don’t want to draw attention to what we’re doing, and that includes amongst my staff. Nonetheless, you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs and, given the level of intrusion in my life, I was probably living in a fantasy world to think I could keep things completely secret.

‘I trust Mr del Almodovár,’ I say firmly, surprised to realise that it’s true. I do trust him. ‘Go back to the hotel and wait for me there.’

‘But—’

‘I mean it,’ I say, but gently now, smiling to soften my command. After all, I rarely give such edicts. ‘I’ll be fine.’

It clearly doesn’t satisfy either of them, but they take a step back, signalling tacit agreement, and I expel the breath I was holding.

A moment later, I’m walking up the gang plank of the yacht, with no idea if that’s actually what it’s called, my pulse running away with me at the prospect of seeing Santiago again. Excitement bursts through me.

His own staff stays on the marina.

‘Hello?’ I call, smiling despite the fact he hasn’t appeared.

The boat begins to move and I reach out, putting my hand on the railing to steady myself, my smile growing wider as I step away from the edge look for the steering wheel. Is that even what it’s called on a yacht?

Santiago is standing at the front of the boat, wearing only a pair of shorts, low-slung to reveal his toned, tanned waist, his shapely legs and strong shoulders.

Desire rushed through me.

‘Is this a kidnapping?’ I ask as I approach him from behind.

He casts a glance over his shoulder, his eyes locking to mine so my smile drops, the sheer heat in his look almost knocking me sideways. ‘Definitely.’

A frisson of need runs through me. The idea of being this man’s captive is unexpectedly appealing.

He deftly manoeuvres the yacht from the marina with the ease of a man who does this regularly and, once through the barrier, he sets the control in position and turns to me properly. His fingers lift, catching a hint of my dark wig, brushing it between his forefinger and thumb.

‘Do you like it?’

‘I thought I would.’ He lifts it from my head, nodding approval at the reappearance of my blonde hair. ‘But this is better.’

My heart skips a beat.

‘How did you sleep?’

‘Like a log.’

‘And naked?’

Heat bursts through me. I don’t answer.

‘I imagined you naked.’ He turns back to the controls, steering the boat, with no idea what his throwaway comment does to my equilibrium. I’m knocked completely sideways.

‘How was your meeting?’ My voice is gravelled and uneven. I come to stand to his right, staring ahead rather than looking directly at him.