A Night of Royal Consequences

‘Okay, but be sure to give me the—’ Before she had chance to say, ‘receipt, so I can pay the bill,’ the maid had left the room and closed the door.

Callie heaved a sigh. What was she supposed to do now? She tried to ring Luca, but that was like trying to get hold of the Queen of England. She went through half a dozen people and none of them would put her through to him. It was already nine o’clock in the evening. He’d left her alone to stew. Talking of which, she was hungry. Picking up the internal phone, she rang the kitchen to order a tray of sandwiches and a pot of tea. Hmm. So much for the high life! And so much for the discussions they were supposed to be having. Could matters of State be so much more important than their child?

She drank the tea, ate the sandwiches, then walked around the apartment until she knew every inch of it by heart. It was a gilded cage for the Prince’s pet bird, Callie concluded. It was impersonal. The drawers were empty. There wasn’t even a book to be found. There certainly wasn’t anything as crass as a TV. Opening the glass doors onto her private veranda, she sat down at the wrought-iron table. Listening to the night sounds soothed her. It was a beautiful evening, but where was Luca? She should have known by now that sex meant nothing to him, and he could just walk away, forget it, forget her.

She went back into the room when it began to get chilly. She’d forgotten that the maid had promised to have more clothes delivered, and the room was full of them. She couldn’t deny that rooting through the boxes and carrier bags was fun. Choosing a pair of jeans and a loose sports top, she exchanged her fluffy robe for a casual look that would take her through to bedtime.

More tea?

More tea.

She was just concluding, with a return of good humour, that wading through such a vast selection

of clothes was exhausting, when the door opened and Luca walked in.

‘Tea, madam?’

She almost jumped out of her skin. Even with a tray of tea in his hands, he was everything she could desire in a man. Dark, tall, and powerfully built. She would never get used to the breath-stealing sight of him. He’d changed into jeans and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Those arms! His jeans were cinched with a heavy-duty belt that drew attention to his washboard waist. His shoulders were epic and his powerful forearms were tanned and shaded with just the right amount of dark hair.

Those arms belonged around her, she concluded, forgetting her good intentions as he strode across the room. She was supposed to be having a serious discussion with him, not falling victim to his dazzling charm. Be objective, she told herself firmly.

‘Ah, the dresses have arrived,’ he commented as his stare swept over the gown rail. ‘Now for the fashion show.’ Throwing himself down on a finely upholstered chaise longue, he made a gesture she could only presume was supposed to goad her into action.

‘Are you going to model them for me, then?’ she asked. ‘You mentioned a fashion show?’ she prompted when Luca raised a brow.

For a moment he looked bemused and then he laughed. ‘You never change, do you?’

‘I hope not. Hooking up in a car does not a future make, Prince Luca. You and I have some serious talking to do.’

‘Soon,’ he promised. ‘But first a toast,’ he insisted, standing up.

‘In tea?’ she queried.

‘I can send for champagne—’

‘I can’t—’

‘Of course you can’t.’ With a grimace, he reached for her, and, jerking her close, he linked their fingers in a way she found very hard to resist. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, slanting a grin. ‘I had forgotten why we’re here for the moment.’

‘Don’t,’ she warned with a straight look into his eyes.

‘I was about to propose a toast to the heir to the principality of Fabrizio,’ he explained.

She hummed. ‘In that case, I’ll forgive you.’

When Luca smiled his wicked smile, if it hadn’t been for the sexual tension between them they were close enough in that moment to be just two friends enjoying a moment of trust between themselves.

‘Have you chosen your ball gown yet?’ he asked, turning to glance at the packed gown rail.

‘I want you to feel comfortable. I know you’ll look beautiful. It’s going to be a special night for both of us, because this is my chance to introduce you to my guests.’

‘As what?’ she asked.

Luca appeared to ponder this. ‘My personal assistant? No.’ His lips pressed down as he shook his head. ‘What about Keeper of the Crown Jewels? More accurate?’

‘This is serious,’ Callie warned. ‘Please stop teasing me. If I’m going to attend my first ball with you, I need to know where I stand. That’s the only way I’m going to feel comfortable.’

‘Comfortable was the wrong word. I can see that now,’ Luca admitted. ‘I want you to feel sensational. As the ball is tomorrow evening you’d better choose one of these gowns to make sure you do.’