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

“Your glasses?”

“I normally wear contacts.”

He nodded slowly. “Princess Gabriella D’Oro. I have seen pictures of you—it’s only that I would never have recognized you in your current state. The difference is remarkable.”

He had an immediate picture in his mind of a glossier, more tamed version of the woman in front of him. Sleek and, actually, quite beautiful. Though not remotely as interesting as the version of Gabriella that stood before him.

She waved a hand. “Between professionally fitted dresses, undergarments to hold in all undesirable lumps and bumps, makeup to cover every flaw, false eyelashes, red lips… I’m scarcely the same person.”

“A good thing for our current situation.” He regarded her for a longer period of time. “Yes, that will do nicely. You will come as my assistant. With your hair just like this. With your glasses. And with some horrible pantsuit. No one will ever believe you are Princess Gabriella. No one will look twice at you. Certainly not close enough to identify you. That eases any and all problems we might have with the press, with the local government and with scandal.”

He could see that she was fuming, radiating with indignity. He quite liked it. He didn’t have a lot of time. He certainly didn’t have extra time to stand around negotiating about keys and directions with a silly girl.

So she would come. It was no difference to him either way.

“That is a ridiculous idea,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve never traveled. I mainly stay here in the estate.”

“Curled up on a cushion reading a book?”

She blinked. “What else would one do on a cushion?”

“Oh, I can think of several things.”

“Drinking tea?”

“No. Not drinking tea.”

Her expression was a study in confusion. It was almost cute. Except that he had no interest in bookish virgins.

She was…naive. Young. For a moment he was concerned about how young. “How old are you?”

She sniffed. “I’m twenty-three. You can stop looking at me like I’m some sort of schoolgirl.”

“Cara mia, you are a schoolgirl to me.”

“How old are you?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Am I to respect my elders?”

He laughed, he couldn’t help it. Rare was the person who poked back at him. He rather enjoyed having fun at other people’s expense, but they didn’t dare have it at his.

His secret was that he found it rather entertaining just how afraid everyone seemed to be in his presence. His formidable reputation afforded him a great deal of enjoyment. Though the fact that he took pleasure in making people quake in his presence was likely why he had so few friends. Not that he minded.

He had sycophants, he had business associates and he had mistresses. He had no room in his life for anything else. Nor had he the desire for them.

Unfortunately, he also had family, and with them came obligations. Family was, after all, how he found himself here now.

“Then it is decided. You will be my personal assistant, a college student, doing a work experience program. Traveling with me to Isolo D’Oro to take in some of the local culture and scenery while I negotiate a business deal.”

“I’m supposed to be your…intern?” She was positively incandescent with irritation now.

“Yes. Of course, Gabriella is a little bit posh for that. How about Gabby? It has a very nice ring to it. Don’t you think, Gabby?”

“I hate being called Gabby.”

“But I’ll wager you hate scandal even more. So, Gabby my assistant you will be, and we will not create any of it.”