The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One) (15 page)

“Hey yourself,” she managed, stretching her arms over her head. Her stomach growled, impossibly loud in the empty, cavernous room, and Maggie felt her cheeks go warm.
 

“Well, that answers my question,” Salvy said, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. “I was heading to the kitchen to get myself a little midnight snack and saw your lights on. Knowing that you’re pretty much always up for a meal, I thought I’d see if I could prod you into joining me.”

Magdalena hated that suspicion flooded her with as much force as pleasure that he’d thought of her. That he remembered her rabid appetite the way he’d recalled how she took her tea and that she hated being snuck up on.
 

She realized that she did want to spend time with Salvy—this Salvy, the one who treated her with respect even if he did make her blood simmer in the very best way, not the one who had greeted her like a visiting prostitute a week ago. Her stomach growled again, louder than the first time, and they both chuckled.
 

“I supposed there’s no point in pretending, but are you going to cook?” she asked, standing up and raising an eyebrow his direction.

“Sure. I was planning on fixing my specialty.”

Two could play at the memory game, and Magdalena fixed him with a look. “You’re lucky I like cereal.”

“You like everything,” he teased back, following her as she stepped into the hallway and turned toward the kitchen.

Maggie slowed, enjoying the feeling of his heat at her back, at the musky, male scent of him as it found its way through her hair and over her shoulders, into her nose. She had missed Salvadore as a friend, but it was a bit of a shock that, underneath her contempt and anger and hurt, the torch she carried for him had remained lit.

They made their way into the giant, commercial kitchen and Salvy pulled out a stool at the large island and gestured for Maggie to sit. While she watched, he poured two bowls of cereal—Honey Bunches of Oats for him and Apple Jacks for her—then popped a few pieces of bread into the toaster. He worked efficiently and quietly, and Maggie enjoyed the companionable silence that helped her relax.
 

When he pawed through a cabinet and came back with a bottle of cinnamon to sprinkle on the toast, a flush of warmth spread through her. He really did remember everything—she hadn’t had cinnamon toast in years.
 

“Thanks,” she said, digging in and trying not to notice how close his body was to hers as he took a seat on the next stool over. “It’s good.”

“You always were easy to please, at least in the food department.”

She didn’t know if he meant it to sound sexual but to her ears, full of the sounds of her pounding heart, it did. Then Maggie recalled, for the hundredth time, how he’d broken her heart, and confusion muddled her desire. Her pleasure at being with him.

“What?” Salvy asked, his blue eyes intent on her expression the way they had been so often over the past week. Since he’d waltzed back into her life like he still had a place in it.

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s weird, hanging out with you again, but it’s also nice.”

“That wasn’t what you were thinking,” he mused, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows.
 

“Not all of it,” she confessed. “I was thinking about how much has changed since the last time we saw each other, that’s all.”

Maggie found the courage to meet his eyes, and in them, she saw that he understood what she was saying. What she wanted to know. In that moment, she wanted him to be the man she saw and not the one who graced the fronts of the tabloids.
 

The man who had grown from the boy who had once cared about her.
 

“Do you know why I didn’t come after you all those years ago?” He asked the question softly, his eyes never wavering on her face.
 

Her body went rigid, defensiveness tightening every muscle. Maggie wanted to know the answer, so much. And yet she didn’t know whether she was prepared. “You read my diary and you didn’t feel the same. You thought I was a silly girl, that I had dumb ideas, that I would make things awkward, so you made out with Princess What’s-Her-Name to let me know where we stood.”

“No.” He sighed, reaching out a hand and putting it over hers. His palm was dry and warm, and tight as he squeezed it around her knuckles. “No, Maggie. Look at me.”
 

It took another moment or two of patience on his part, but she couldn’t resist. Even though the shutters were still drawn to her soul, he refused to do the same. She looked into his eyes and he let her see him, even though she could sense his desire to hide.
 

“When I read your diary, it came as a huge surprise. I’m an idiot, so even though I loved spending time with you, and you were my best friend, too, I’d never…I’d never thought about those things. Not with you.”
 

Maggie looked away, feeling like an idiot all over again.
 

Salvy squeezed her hand harder. “No, listen. I’m saying this wrong. After I read it, after you left, I realized I felt the same way. That you were the person I wanted to tell when I had a bad day, or a good one. You were the person who made me feel like I wasn’t a waste of royal blood.”

“But you…” She trailed off, confusion closing some of the distance between them. She was listening, but she still didn’t get it. “You kissed that girl.”

“I was stupid, Magdalena. I was scared, because you…you weren’t the kind of girl I could fool with smiles and talk about crowns and countries. And I wasn’t ready for you. For that. I couldn’t sleep with you and walk away like nothing happened, but I couldn’t give you what you deserved, either.” He dropped his hands and curled them around hers. “I can’t now, either, but I find that I have missed you. Very much.”

“I thought you hated me.” Her voice trembled, her heart in her throat. So many emotions flew threw her that she had no idea how to respond to any of his kind words, the ones she’d longed to hear so long ago.
 

She wanted to believe him, and her soul said she could, but it was hard to let go, to drop the shield that had protected her all of these years.

“Oh, Magdalena. I’m sorry I wasn’t mature enough to talk to you.”

That made her laugh, but it was shaky, too. Maggie pulled her hand out from under his and ran it through her hair, trying her best to gather the pieces of her emotions that he’d scattered all over the room. “I think it’s time we put all of this behind us. Thank you for telling me this. It means a lot.”

Their eyes met, and Maggie held her breath as a wash of tingles overtook her better judgment. In that moment, she realized that even now, even with everything going on, she would give anything to know what it felt like to be the woman in his arms.

Chapter Eleven

Salvadore

Nico calling to ask him around for a drink that afternoon was a blessing. He’d slept like a baby after his talk with Maggie in the kitchen last night, feeling relief from the confession he hadn’t realized weighed heavy on his heart for all of these years.
 

All that in spite of the fact that he hadn’t touched her, not in the way he wanted to so badly. Apology or not, he didn’t deserve to do such a thing.

The entire situation revealed a truth that he wasn’t keen to see. If he was going through with this ball, with a sham of a marriage, he would need to spend more time in Cielo. His father wanted to see change, and Salvy would go mad just prowling the halls of the castle with nothing to do but kiss babies and wave at crowds. Give interview after interview about his decision to step into his role as the second son.

The parade of thoughts left a sour taste in his mouth. That wouldn’t do, and he hoped that his brother wanted to offer him another way. He needed to find a purpose, and fast, or he would go completely insane. As much as he’d enjoyed spending time with Magdalena—with a person who would tell him the truth—that couldn’t be his purpose here in Cielo.
 

He frowned at the direction of his thoughts and finished the double Windsor knot at his throat, then shrugged into his sport coat.
 

A rap on his front door was followed by the entrance of his personal security man, James. A British name for a man from Switzerland, but perhaps the Biblical ones never went out of style. They’d been together for over five years and were close in age, though James was stationed in Cielo and didn’t take trips with Salvy.

“Sir, the car is waiting.”

“Thank you, James. I’m ready.” James didn’t move, the expression on his face one of conflict. Salvy’s stomach twisted. “Was there something else?”

“Etzio is in the car. He said he needs to talk to you on the way, so I’m staying here.”

Salvadore pressed his lips together. The stubborn, judgy old man was about the last person in the world he wanted to see, but his father had made it clear that Etzio had both clearance and authority over the rest of Salvy’s security, so that left him little choice.
 

So much for the perks of being a prince.
 

“Thank you, James.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Perhaps you’d like to play a few hands of poker later tonight? Some of the guys have been talking about getting together for a game.”

King Alfonso hated when his son played games with the help, which was at least half of the reason he made a point of doing it whenever he was in country. He thought about Maggie, and whether he’d be able to get her alone two nights in a row, and decided he definitely needed something else to occupy him in the meantime.

“Sure. Let’s do it a little early, though. I’d like to be done by midnight.”
 

Magdalena would likely work until at least then, if the previous week was any indication. Things were only getting crazier in the workshop, too. There were so many half-dressed mannequins stuffed in there at this point that it looked as if it could double as a fetish porn set during off hours. Not that they had off hours. Maggie worked her seamstresses and tailors until late every night, and the first shift arrived with the sun in the morning.
 

He felt a little badly about all of the pressure the ball was putting on them, but it was good for business. And if Magdalena wanted to take over her father’s spot as the most sought-after tailor and dressmaker in Cielo, then that’s exactly what she would have.
 

“Very good, sir.”

Salvadore strode out into the frosty afternoon, wishing he’d stopped long enough to grab an overcoat. He didn’t want to go back, not even three steps. Restlessness infected his limbs and the only cure was movement. Even the fact that Etzio waited in the car felt like a welcome distraction.

A frown pulled at his lips. He had no idea what was the matter with him. He would see Maggie again soon enough, so why did he feel as if he couldn’t wait?

“Your Highness,” Etzio greeted him, his tone dry. A glass of coffee steamed in the man’s hand even though it was nearly four in the afternoon.

Salvy opened the cabinet to his right and poured himself a scotch neat, and ignored the distasteful twist of his handler’s lips. He enjoyed getting the older man’s goat more than he should, but Salvy had little to entertain him at the moment.
 

“Etzio,” he replied after taking a sip of his drink. The drive around the castle grounds to Nico’s house would only take a few minutes. He supposed he could have walked. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It has come to my attention that you’ve…entertained a certain young lady last night.”

Salvadore shouldn’t have been surprised. There were no secrets when security was required to have knowledge of his whereabouts twenty-four hours a day. It did worry him, however. He didn’t think Maggie was aware that the staff would know about any time they spent together, and she probably wouldn’t like it if she were.

He trusted his people, though, and so did the King. They were vetted, they were experienced, and he trusted them with his life. The leaks to the gossip mags were coming from somewhere, but he felt secure in his house on the royal grounds. If nowhere else.
 

Salvadore did not appreciate the leering assumption that something other than a chat in the kitchen might have happened.

“I assume you have a point to your observation,” he snapped.

“Just to make sure that you’re aware that she’s an employee of the royal family, and that certain activities are frowned upon between you and a subordinate.”

“She’s not a subordinate, Etzio. She’s an old friend.”

“Gray areas are not the best places to reside when discussing legal matters, sire.” The old man’s frown deepened, the reproach sharp in his gaze. “In addition, we are all quite fond of the lady in question and would hate to see her hurt at the end of all of this. You know, when you choose a bride at the ball you insisted upon.”

“Watch yourself.” Salvy stared into the amber liquid in his glass as the car pulled up to his brother’s back door. One of them. The old chapel was half as large as his father’s palace. “This is not your business. It is between Miss Rossi and me, is that clear? I will not stand for assumptions about her character, or mine, or attempts to meddle in business that is clearly ours alone.”