One Night Heir (By His Royal Decree 1)

Zach was the one who had encouraged her to follow her dream and return to acting, but some dreams came with nightmares attached. If she couldn’t cope with this, how was she going to be able to cope with the attention of being back on a film set? She missed acting, but she didn’t miss this.

‘Taylor!’ Santo Corretti, head of

the film production company who was reputed to have slept with every single leading lady of his past five films, strode towards her across the perfectly manicured grass. ‘You’re late.’

‘I was being sewn into the dress you chose.’ She didn’t mention that she’d been outside for half an hour trying to summon the courage to walk through the gates. That was too embarrassing to admit to anyone. She was terrified he’d see through her perfectly groomed exterior to the shivering wreck beneath. ‘In my experience the paparazzi are all the keener if you make them wait and work for it.’

‘Just remember you’re here to promote my film, not yourself. I want publicity and when I say publicity I mean good publicity. I don’t want anyone raking up your past.’

There it was. Just two minutes into a conversation and already the topic was her ‘past.’

There was no escaping it. Her mistakes had been played out so publicly they were branded into her so that now it was the first thing people saw, including him.

Her stomach growled a reminder that it was empty. ‘In a wedding packed full of various members of the Corretti dynasty, I’m sure the press will have plenty of alternative headline options.’ A different version of Taylor might have found him attractive but these days she avoided trouble instead of seeking it out. And she especially avoided the type of trouble that came shaped like a man. She’d learned that lesson and she’d learned it well.

‘Are you blushing?’ His eyes raked her face. ‘Taylor Carmichael, wild child and sex kitten, able to blush when the situation demands it. I’ll take that as a sign of your acting abilities. And I approve. The public loves vulnerability. They might even be prepared to excuse your shocking past.’

‘My past is no one’s business but my own.’ But it was stuck to her, like a dirty mark she couldn’t rub out. ‘So who do you want me to charm first?’

‘Weren’t you bringing someone?’ His eyes scanned the immediate area and Taylor managed to turn clenched teeth into a smile.

‘My friend Zach, but he’s been held up.’ And she was going to kill him.

‘Just remember your job today is to mingle with the people who matter, not nurture your love life.’

‘Zach isn’t—’ She stopped in mid-sentence, wishing she’d stayed silent but already he was nodding approval.

‘Good, because your messy love life has no place on my film set.’

‘My love life isn’t messy.’ She could have told him her love life was non-existent but she didn’t.

‘There are two reasons this film is going to pull in a big audience. The first is because it’s my film—’ his smile was cool ‘—and the second is because you’re starring in it, Taylor Carmichael. People are going to pack out movie theatres to see your big comeback because you’re a train wreck and everyone loves ogling a train wreck. If I’m right about you, they’ll leave knowing you can act. Don’t screw up.’

Despite the heat, she shivered.

This was what she hated. The press intrusion and studios who believed they owned her, not just on set, but in every area of her life. As a young star it had almost broken her, but she wasn’t that naive girl any more.

There was no way she’d let that happen to her again.

There was no way she’d screw it up or let them screw her.

They could fix their damn camera lenses to her ass and they still wouldn’t be able to catch her misbehaving. She was going to be so perfect the press would die of boredom. She was going to rub that dirty mark off her image until she shone like silver in sunshine.

‘So who is the most important person here today? Give me a brief.’ Brisk and professional, she was all business despite the fact the dress was all Hollywood. ‘Who am I supposed to impress?’

‘All of them. Every guest at the wedding is waiting for the chance to talk to you. Taylor Carmichael, finally back from exile. Everyone wants to know the details. The grapevine is buzzing.’

‘You’ve made sure of it.’

‘You’re my biggest asset and I know how to use my assets. Don’t give them details. No interviews until I say so.’

‘No problem.’ She’d pushed her past into a drawer and locked it and she hadn’t opened that drawer for years. The thought that others might be trying to uncover her secrets made her feel sick and his next words didn’t help dispel that feeling.

‘They’ll be persistent. After all, you’re the girl who fired her own mother.’

‘I fired my manager. The fact that she was my mother had nothing to do with it.’ But it should have done. It shouldn’t have been that easy to get rid of a mother, should it?

‘People have a morbid fascination with the way you crashed your own life.’

‘Thanks.’ The pain rose and she pushed it down again, alone with it as she was always alone.

‘So what have you been doing the past few years?’

Taylor watched as a bee hovered over a flower and then carefully landed on the fragile petals. ‘I was keeping a low profile.’

His eyes narrowed at her evasive answer. ‘Just as long as that profile isn’t going to suddenly pop up and hurt my movie.’

‘It won’t.’ She shifted her weight to ease the pain in her feet. She’d forgotten how uncomfortable stilettos were. Still, at least it took her mind off her growling stomach. ‘You can relax. If there is any scandal attached to your movie, it won’t come from me.’

‘It’s your first public appearance since you disappeared.’ His tone was hard. ‘Everyone is waiting for you to slip up, you know that, don’t you?’

‘Then I predict they’re going to have a very boring time.’

‘No drinking.’

‘Is that why you had me sewn into the dress? So I can’t use the bathroom?’

‘The dress shows your body. Your body is one of your assets.’

There had to be some benefit for being permanently starving. ‘And there was me hoping you wanted my acting skills.’ The bitterness leaked into her voice and he narrowed his eyes.

‘I do, but I’m not so naive as to think your looks don’t help. It’s all about the film, Carmichael. Don’t answer any questions about the past. You are the Mona Lisa. All they get is an enigmatic smile.’

‘I can tell you now there is no way Mona would have smiled if she were sewn into her dress. If she were forced to wear what I’m wearing she would have been the Moaning Lisa. And now we’ve established the ground rules, point me towards hell.’

‘Wait. You didn’t answer my question—’ He caught her arm. ‘What have you been doing with yourself for the past two years? You just disappeared. Were you in rehab or something?’

Rehab.

Of course they would think that. It never occurred to anyone that there could be any other explanation for her absence.

‘Sorry,’ Taylor murmured, disengaging her arm from his grip, ‘I’m absolutely not permitted to talk about my past. Your rules.’

‘You’re a beautiful woman. There won’t be any shortage of men interested, not in you but in the potential to make some money from selling a story. You screwed that up before.’

The pain was so intense he might as well have punched her. ‘I was young. Trusting. I’m not any more. And as for men—’ Taylor managed a careless shrug ‘—I can assure you there isn’t a man out there hot enough to tempt me.’

*

Luca Corretti downed another glass of champagne to numb the boredom of behaving well.

For the past twenty-four hours he’d driven under the speed limit for the first time in his life, declined seven party invitations and made it to bed before dawn. The fact that he hadn’t been alone at the time didn’t count. As far as the outside world was concerned, his behaviour had been impeccable. The only thing he hadn’t done in his quest for instant respectability was kissed a baby and even he wasn’t prepared to descend to those levels of hypocrisy just to impress the board of directors who’d decided his lifestyle wasn’t compatible with running another chunk of the family business. Apparently bu

siness flare counted for nothing, he thought savagely, wondering whether he could get away with swapping the champagne for whisky.

And now, to add insult to injury, he was expected to sit through his cousin’s wedding.

Was he the only person who hated weddings? All that happy-ever-after crap that everyone knew was a temporary illusion. Or maybe it was a delusion. Luca didn’t know and he didn’t intend to find out. He was going to be out of here at the first opportunity, preferably with the brunette bridesmaid he’d spotted on his way in.

‘Luca! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?’

Before he could react, Luca was enveloped in soft bosom and a choking cloud of perfume. At any other time he would have thought it wasn’t a bad way to die, but he was conscious that heads were turning and, when heads turned, disapproval was bound to follow. It irritated him that he had to care. ‘Where have I been?’ He disentangled himself. ‘Avoiding you, Penny.’

‘My name’s Portia.’

‘Seriously? No wonder I didn’t remember it.’

She giggled. ‘You are a wicked, wicked man.’

‘So people keep telling me.’ Luca put down his empty glass, trying to think of a method of stress reduction that didn’t involve sex or alcohol.

Portia lowered her eyelashes. ‘About last night—’

Aware that his one indiscretion was about to be made public, Luca removed the drink from her hand and swapped it for orange juice. ‘Last night? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Last night I went to bed with a book.’

She gave a snort of laughter. ‘Well, you certainly turned my pages. I’ll never forget it. How could I?’ Her eyes on his mouth, she leaned towards him. ‘You were amazing. It’s never been like that for me before. You’re a genius.’

‘So I keep telling the board,’ Luca said in a flat drawl. ‘Unfortunately my opinion doesn’t seem to count. For some reason they seem to think activity in the bedroom saps my mental abilities so for the time being I have to prove I can keep my pants zipped.’