The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize (The Billionaire's Legacy 8)

She paused in her pacing, turned to face him. “Do you think you’ll find it anywhere?”

“I have my doubts.”

“Do you believe in anything? Do you believe in love?”

He only looked at her, his dark eyes a bottomless well. “No.”

“But you’re here for your grandfather. Surely—?”

“I believe in fairness. I believe in faithfulness. I believe in keeping my word. As I told you before, I am a man who believes in business.”

“Follow your head and not your heart, in other words.”

“My head is the only thing I trust.”

She let out a heavy sigh, looking back toward her bedroom. It was going to be strange, sharing such a close space with him. Last night in the hotel suite had been strange enough, but there had been a living area between their two bedrooms. This felt…rather more intimate. She should think nothing of it. It should be…nothing. That he was a man and she was a woman shouldn’t matter because they wouldn’t be engaging in any…man/woman things.

But it still felt strange.

“Then maybe you could use that very large head of yours to figure out how we’ll find the painting in this enormous palace?” Her uncertainty, the fluttering in her stomach, made her feel cross.

“I could, I suppose.” He tapped his chin as though he were thinking very hard. “The easiest thing to do would be to take a tour. It’s likely the hiding place would be revealed to us during it.”

“Sure. If only we could arrange that.”

“Well, there will be tours. The biggest thing is that we can’t turn the pockets of the place out, then leave with a valuable work of art. We have to appear to have come for reasons of business and pleasure. We have to stay. Anyway, I sincerely intend to work up some sort of trade agreement, so we will stay until the last evening party.”

“There are parties?”

“Every night. He emailed me a PDF of the itinerary. Very helpful,” he said, his tone dry. “But I think we should make sure to stay until the last party. Four days. Then we go. Easy.”

Nothing about it sounded easy to her, not at all. To exist in this fishbowl playing a part she didn’t know the lines for.

“Are you tired?” he asked. She had to wonder if he’d seen her sag beneath the weight of everything just as she felt it.

“Yes,” she said, suddenly feeling exhausted down to her bones. That surge of strength, of certainty that she had felt when she first walked in, was gone now. Now she just felt wrung out. It was strange that coming to this place was so emotional. But it was. Enduring it all with this man who was so…intense, so very present—it only added to it.

“Perhaps you should get some rest. There is going to be a gathering tonight with the guests at the party. Appetizers and the like.”

She frowned. “What am I supposed to do about that? I can’t very well fix myself up. Here people know that I’m Princess Gabriella. Or they’ll at least suspect.”

“Then you won’t fix up.”

She scowled. “I like very much how this farce isn’t damaging your vanity in any way.”

“All of this was your choice, Princess. I for one am happy to create a bit of scandal. What do I care if the world thinks I’ve taken you to my bed? I don’t care. Not at all.”

“Yes, that is a charming perk of being male. You don’t have to worry about rumors of your sexual promiscuity.”

He chuckled. “I would guess you’ve never had to much worry about rumors regarding yours, either.”

That goaded her pride. She didn’t like him being quite so certain about that. “Perhaps I’m just discreet.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that you are. You seem to me to be the very soul of discretion.”

She sniffed. “I am. For reasons you should well understand.”

“Go rest up. Then put on your armor of discretion and ready yourself for the party tonight.”