To loosen up and live a little.
Till he spoke!
‘I’m sure whatever job you want, it can be accommodated.’
Never had she been more grateful for the dimmed lighting as a dark, burning blush swept up her neck and over her cheeks, her mouth dry all of a sudden, her heart hammering in her chest, unsure if she’d misinterpreted and appalled if she hadn’t—was he offering her a job in his casino or in his bedroom?
‘I speak no Italian.’ Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Meg chose her words carefully. ‘I don’t really see what sort of work…’
‘It doesn’t have to be in the casino; perhaps you would like to spend your time in Niroli with me?’
‘With you!’ She let out a shocked gasp at his directness. ‘You’re offering me a job as your escort!’
‘Meg—’ immediately he shook his head ‘—I think you misunderstand. I am requesting your company for a period of time. I would like us to have a chance to get to know each other better. As you will understand, I’m sure, I am not permitted the luxury of casual dates—I am not able to suggest we meet tomorrow afternoon for coffee or a chat, or a wander on the beach—’
‘Because you’re too busy?’ Meg interrupted scornfully. ‘Too busy to deal with something as trivial as getting to know another person—oh, but if they look okay, if they can string a sentence or two together and are impressed enough by your status, then you’ll simply bypass the superfluous and cut straight to the chase.’
Her angry words didn’t faze him—anything but. A smile on his lips revealed very white, very even teeth. ‘I think you’re overreacting.’
‘Do you!’ Meg gave him a wide-eyed look—she really couldn’t believe the audacity of him. Yes, he was stunning to look at, and, yes, she conceded, they were attracted to each other, but to have the nerve to sit there and offer to buy her company for a few weeks made her blood boil—that he was so pompous, so full of his self-importance to think he was above the social niceties, infuriated her.
‘As I said, you misunderstand….’
‘I don’t think so.’ For the first time in a long time, instead of holding it in, Meg let it out—disappointment, embarrassment all aiding her in a very few choice words. ‘I’m surprised you offered dinner. Why don’t we just go straight upstairs to your luxury suite?’
‘Excuse me?’ For the first time she startled him—a flicker of confusion in his eyes as she confronted him.
‘Your luxury suite. I’m sure you’ve got one waiting—and given that you’re clearly too busy and important for something as trivial as romance or dating, and given that I’m too tired for a late night, why don’t we just go straight up there and get it over and done with?’
As his face darkened for a second Meg thought she’d gone too far—questioned the wisdom of speaking in such a manner to a man she barely knew, her feisty, sarcastic tones maybe open to misinterpretation, but as her words hit home his anger faded. The smile that had been on his lips before returned with vengeance now as he threw back his head and laughed out loud, until Meg actually managed a reluctant smile of her own.
‘You are always this angry?’
‘Only when I’m mistaken for a prostitute!’
‘Never!’ His thumb and finger found her chin, lifting her face so her eyes were level with his—touching her for the first time, the shock of contact with him tumbling her into confusion because despite her angry words before, despite the sarcasm that had laced them, she wanted him—wanted what she had moments before scorned.
Wanted him to make love to her.
‘Eat with me,’ Luca offered again and it was sheer self-preservation that made her shake her head, determined to politely end the conversation and just get the hell out before she did something stupid—something she would surely regret. She was here to sort her life, not complicate it further, and being a paid mistress to this man was surely a recipe for disaster!
‘No.’ Meg dragged the word out, jerked her chin away to break the contact as, reaching down, she picked up her bag and stood up. ‘As I said, I’m very tired. Thank you for your hospitality.’
‘You haven’t allowed me to show you any hospitality.’ He stood up as she did, clearly taken aback by her abrupt change of mood. ‘But that is your choice.’ He gave a brief shrug. ‘I will walk you back.’
‘I don’t need to be walked back,’ Meg declined, but Luca begged to differ.
‘Your friend appears to be busy and those men are no doubt still downstairs. It would be better if I walk you back to your room.’
If it had been anyone else offering it would have made sense. Meg had no desire to run into that group again, but neither did she want to walk with Luca. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—not for a minute did she imagine him forcing himself on her as that creepy businessman had before—but he had made his intentions exceptionally clear and so now must she.
‘Thank you for the offer, Mr Fierezza, I mean, Signor Fierezza, but I’d prefer—’
‘Luca,’ he interrupted.
‘I’d rather keep things formal,’ Meg said crisply back, but she couldn’t look at him, instead staring down at the ground, ready to turn on her heel and walk off.
‘Well, in that case, my correct title is: His Royal Highness Prince Luca of Niroli.’
As her startled eyes shot up to his, despite the twist of a smile on Luca’s lips at her reaction, she knew in an instant he was speaking the truth. Antoinette hadn’t got her words mixed up, those cufflinks he was wearing, Meg realised in a flash, were actually the Niroli coat of arms she’d seen in her guide book, but it wasn’t just that that convinced her, it was his sheer arrogance, the absolute confident way he carried himself—which told her he would never stoop to lying to impress a woman.
‘There will be no discussion. I will walk you back to your room.’ His hand touched her elbow and she practically shot into orbit at the contact, any argument fading on her lips as he guided her to the opening door.
‘Oh, and Meg…’ as the elevator glided open, as he declined the escort from his bodyguard, Luca managed to elicit a smile from her shocked lips ‘…you can call me Prince for short.’
As they walked through the casino, his hand still on her elbow, Meg’s mind was whirring. They made their way swiftly—he didn’t need to guide her through the throng of people because they all stepped back for him, heads turning, couples nudging each other as they passed, and Meg started to understand what he had been trying to tell her. A prince couldn’t date in the usual way, couldn’t walk into a bar unrecognised or linger over a coffee as he got to know a virtual stranger, and those thoughts were confirmed when finally they left the crowds behind and walked the long corridor to her room.
‘You didn’t know?’
‘No,’ Meg admitted. “Antoinette, the kitchen hand, did say something, but I thought she was…’ She gave a helpless shrug. ‘Shouldn’t you be locked away in a palace or something, with bodyguards protecting you?’
‘I should be according to my grandfather—the king,’ he