Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (40 page)

“Sorry,” he teased.
 
“I’m about as far from sunshine and umbrella drinks as you can get.”
 

“And I’m glad.
 
Truly.
 
You’ve opened my eyes to the wider world, one outside what I’m used to in Texas.
 
That’s what I wanted more than anything when I came.”

“So why’d you choose Sarcaccia, when you could’ve visited anywhere?”

“While I was researching potential honeymoon spots, my ex mentioned receiving an invitation to a charity ball here,” she admitted.
 
“Once I looked into it, I decided it’d be fun to honeymoon on Sarcaccia and attend the ball at the end of our stay.
 
But as fun as the idea of dressing up and going out for a night on the town might be, I was far more intrigued by the charity itself.
 
Sun-something.
 
They distribute communications equipment to poor and rural areas where it’s desperately needed.
 
It’s amazing what can be done with—”
 

“Wait a minute.”
 
Incredulousness laced his voice.
 
“Do you happen to remember where this charity ball is being held?”

She frowned, curious where he was going with the question.
 
“I didn’t see the actual invitation.
 
Ted only said that it would be grand and to dress as if I were going to the Academy Awards.
 
Why?”

“Well, assuming there aren’t two charity balls this week raising funds for the distribution of communications equipment, it’s a group called SunTalk.
 
And it’s being hosted by my father’s cousin right here in the palace.”

“You’re kidding.
 
I had no idea.
 
I was really impressed with what I read about the charity.”
 

“But you weren’t planning to attend?”

She shook her head.
 
“The invitation was Ted’s, not mine.
 
Once the engagement ended, needless to say, it fell off my travel agenda.”
   

He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her.
 
“Would you like to go anyway?
 
With me?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Massimo thought he’d shocked Kelly with the details of his injury.
 
Yet it was a simple invitation to a ball that widened her chestnut-brown eyes and left her mouth agape.
 

He bent forward, lifting his injured shoulder and pulling a face.
 
“I’ve cast myself as Quasimodo now, haven’t I?
 
Too ugly and frightening for a woman like you?”

“Of course not.”
 
Pucker lines crisscrossed her forehead.
 
“I’m…I’m just not sure what to say.
 
Why would you want me to attend such a formal event with you?”

“Broccoli goes down easier when you have a dining companion,” he said.
 
“And it’ll be fun.
 
My father’s cousin, Alberto Zacchi, knows how to throw a party.
 
He’s been working with the palace staff on this event for months.
 
And as you said, SunTalk is an intriguing charity.”

Her stance was wary.
 
“Are you asking me…is this a date?”

“If so, it wouldn’t be our first.”

“No, but our first date was…unusual.
 
And things have changed since then.”
 
In other words, the romantic date and hot sex occurred before he’d revealed his identity or discovered she’d come to Sarcaccia for another man.
 
Before he’d employed her.
 
Before he’d admitted she was nothing more than a one-night stand to him.

“Maybe.
 
But you’ve earned a night out and I’d like you there.
 
It’s that simple.”

She regarded him for a moment before saying, “It’s a lovely invitation, and I’m honored, but I couldn’t.
 
My suitcase consists of beach gear and casual clothes.
 
I feel underdressed around this place as it is.
 
I’m not the least bit ready for an event like that.”

“Appropriate clothing isn’t a problem.
 
Your build is similar to Sophia’s.
 
She’d be happy to send a few choices to your suite.
 
I’ll ensure you get shoes or anything else you need.
 
If
you want to come.
 
That’s the question.”

“I can’t wear a gown that belongs to Princess Sophia,” she protested.
 

“Kelly, forget clothing concerns.
 
Yes or no?”

She wanted to say no.
 
He could read it in her expression, a battle between common sense and temptation where common sense would eventually triumph.
 
But when she opened her mouth, she said, “Yes.”

* * *

The next evening, Massimo took the stairs leading to his parents’ apartment in twos.
 
Upon reaching the landing, he nodded to the familiar security guard who monitored the comings and goings in the palace’s most private section.

“How are you tonight, Umberto?”

“Quite well, Your Highness,” the lean, extremely fit man said with a respectful dip of his head.
 
“Queen Fabrizia mentioned that you would arrive at eight p.m. for dinner.”

“And it’s” —Massimo consulted his watch— “two minutes to eight.
 
Am I permitted to knock, or should I wait?”

“I leave that to your discretion, sir.”

“Wise man.”

“Enjoy your meal, sir.”
 
The words were said with the usual palace formality, but a twinkle of humor lit the guard’s eyes.

Massimo took his leave, then traversed the long, windowed hallway at the top of the stairs, pausing to look across the garden toward his own apartment.
 
From this vantage point, he could see the overhead lights glowing in his bedroom, but not the activity within.
 

When Kelly mentioned that she had a long day planned with the shelving installation, she wasn’t kidding.
 
She arrived moments after he’d showered this morning and warned him she’d be working until at least sunset.
 
Her appearance was quickly followed by that of an electrician and the carpenters.
 
Before long, workmen carrying shelving components entered, toolboxes at the ready.
 
He’d avoided the apartment the rest of the day, but was curious to see the result of Kelly’s hard work.

Hell.
 
He was dying to see
her
.
 

He’d lain awake most of the night, his brain jumping from one thought to another, but all having to do with Kelly.
 
How she smelled.
 
How her hair danced around her shoulders.
 
How she bewitched his dog.
 
How she knew exactly what to say and when to make him feel at ease.
 
How her dark eyes sparkled when she spoke of things that mattered to her.
 
How she’d melted into him during last night’s all-too-brief kiss.

How stunningly beautiful she was, even when rain-drenched and freezing.

It wasn’t the focused path his mind was accustomed to following.
 
Nor was his body used to the powerful stirrings he experienced in her presence.

He leaned one hip against the high windowsill and squinted at his apartment.
 

Before the fire, the army owned his mind and his body.
 
There’d been room for nothing else.
 
The challenge of daily life had kept him fully and happily occupied.

Before the fire, he’d known a return to Sarcaccia would mean a return to a different life, and to different women…women unlike the one he’d met during a study abroad program in France who’d shown him the joys of making love in her tiny attic apartment overlooking the Montmatre while the sounds of street vendors carried up to them.
 
Or the one he’d met while on a trip to Istanbul who’d introduced him to the rejuvenating pleasures of a hammam, then the pleasures of her bed.

He’d figured there was a time and season for everything.
 
A time for study, a time for work, and a time for play.
 
A time to leave soldiering and perform his royal duties, a time to marry and have children and represent his countrymen.
 
He’d liked the way his life was unfolding.
 
It was a path that kept him fully engaged and challenged.
 

But the fire burned that away.

The rush of accomplishment, the rush of desire, all of it left him, charred away with the layers of his skin.
 
That is, until Kelly brought it back.
 
The night spent with her in the villa was as if waking from a long, dreamless sleep.
 

But why
her
?
 
He interacted with dozens of beautiful, intelligent, witty women each day.
 
Women with pedigrees traceable as far back as his own, in some cases further.
 
Women who’d entertain him both mentally and physically.
 
Women like Madeline Lockwood, who had beauty, intelligence, and charm to spare.
 
Women who fit the life plan he’d always envisioned.

But it was Kelly Chase who’d captured his attention that evening on the beach.
 
Kelly who’d listened to him describe the most transformative event of his life without pity, without judgment.

Hell, she’d even called him a hero.
 
It was a word he’d grown to despise over the years, given that the media liked to slap the label on anyone with a compelling survival story.
 
But Kelly hadn’t used it wantonly.
 
From her lips, it had emerged as a well-considered compliment.

Much as he hated the word, deep down, he found that hearing it from her mattered.

He could no longer deny how much he wanted her.
 
Wanted to know her mind.
 
Her body.
 
Her deepest desires.
 
Her secrets.

He pushed away from the windowsill.
 
Kelly certainly had secrets.
 
A recently broken engagement, for starters.
 
He wondered if she harbored other secrets and what it might take to discover them.
 

Before he could take their relationship any further, he had know his decision to trust her was the right one.
 
She hadn’t told anyone about their encounter at the villa.
 
He had to believe she’d keep the information about his injury to herself, too.
 
All it would take was for Kelly to tell one person and it’d spread through the palace like wildfire.
 

So to speak.

Trusting her meant everything.
 
Because if he was honest with himself, what he really wanted was to love her.
 
To sweep her off her feet at a ball and convince her to extend her stay, and not as his employee.
 

In the meantime, he had another secret on his hands.
 
Literally, in the form of the fabulously valuable necklace curled in his palm.
 

He’d borrowed his younger brother Bruno’s black Audi from the palace garage, knowing it wouldn’t be recognized, and made an unannounced trip to Conti & Fancetti to learn about the necklace’s origins.
 
He hadn’t been surprised to see Selena Conti herself emerge from the back to assist him.
 
However, the conversation they’d had in the confines of her private office when he told her he had questions about a sapphire necklace stunned him.
 
Now he had no other option but to ask his mother about the piece tonight.

“As you know, we keep records of all our creations for the royal family and hold copies of the documentation concerning its value in case of theft or loss,” Selena had said once she’d disengaged the security camera in her office, ensuring nothing of their conversation was seen or recorded.
 
“But this is a unique case, Your Highness.
 
At the request of the person who commissioned this piece, no records of its design or purchase were kept here in the shop.”

He’d eyed the necklace, which she’d spread out across a soft velvet cloth on her desktop after personally inspecting and cleaning it, then gestured to the large, deep blue star sapphire at its center.
 
“Come on, Selena.
 
How can there be no record of
that
?”

The jeweler’s smile had rivaled that of the Mona Lisa for ambiguity.
 
“We acquired the gem from Sri Lanka and can access records to show its origins if necessary.”

“All right, then.
 
When was it acquired?”

“When the client requested it.”

He’d sat back in his chair and regarded her, but the jeweler remained impassive.
 
“You’re being deliberately obtuse.”