He stood silent. Guarded. Judging.
She’d not expected that from San Felipe’s broken, beloved Prince. Wasn’t he supposed to hide a wounded heart? Wasn’t he supposed to be kind and benevolent under the weight of all that duty?
Everyone knew his story. His ‘One True Love’ had tragically died of cancer barely two months after his coronation and the accident that had claimed the lives of both his parents. He’d not been linked to another woman since. The Prince had buried his heart with his girlfriend. And, according to the glossy mags, the nation believed only the love of a pure and perfect woman could heal him and bring him happiness...
That woman clearly wasn’t her given he was looking at her like that.
Forbidding. Disapproving.
Thrown off balance, she felt goaded into provoking a reaction from him. Beneath the fifty feet of ice he hid behind, it had to be there—emotion of some kind.
She should have been intimidated. She should have remained polite. She should have respected the power he held. But she was too tired. And too hurt.
‘Why are you staring at me like I’ve forgotten something?’ She stepped out from her desk. ‘Should I have curtseyed as you walked in?’ She lifted her chin at his utter impassivity. ‘Should I get on my knees before you?’
She regretted the sultry taunt the second she’d uttered it.
Because there was no reaction. He didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t speak a word. Just kept, ever so coolly, regarding her.
Her cheeks burned as shame grew. She’d been everything the world expected her to be—a scandalous, tarty temptress. But she was a big fat faker.
And he wasn’t. He really was as frozen-hearted as they said. And every bit as breathtaking.
‘You’re going to have to do better than that,’ he finally said. ‘Do you think you’re the first woman to try seducing me by stripping and dancing in front of me?’
His words hit like hailstones.
‘I didn’t strip.’
‘Only because you didn’t bother getting dressed properly.’
‘And I didn’t dance for you.’ She ignored his interruption. ‘I was just warming up alone. You’re the one who stopped to watch. You could have kept walking, Tony.’
For a split second she got a reaction—his jaw dropped. Before he snapped it shut and then shot his words like bullets.
‘What did you just call me?’
‘Tony,’ she repeated, refusing to back down. ‘Crown Prince Antonio is too much of a mouthful.’
There was a pause, then his gaze skittered down her body—so deliberately. ‘Too much of a mouthful,’ he echoed slowly.
This time Bella’s jaw dropped. Did he say that while scoping out her breasts? Which, yes, were on the fuller side. Especially for a dancer.
Crossing his arms, he continued to regard her, making her feel uncharacteristically vulnerable. His complete attention wasn’t like any ordinary audience of thousands. His scrutiny was way more intense.
‘I’ve seen it all, every artifice, every attempt to attract me,’ he muttered. ‘It won’t work.’
‘Because we’re all out to entrap you?’ she asked, shocked at his direct approach. ‘You think I’m trying to use my feminine wiles to draw you in? Because you’re the biggest prize?’
‘Aren’t you?’ he answered, cocking his head. ‘Or are you just trying to provoke me? You want to win a reaction from “the Ice Prince”,’ he mocked. ‘Because you’re all about getting the reaction.’
She drew breath at the accuracy of his hit.
‘I’ve had every kind of play,’ he continued with a quietness that belied the edge to his words. ‘The sympathy, simpering agreement and the bitchy comebacks of the treat-me-mean kind...there’s nothing I haven’t seen or heard, so don’t bother.’
Anger rushed along her veins, scalding her skin. ‘You think I want you anywhere near me?’
His lips twisted in a coolly mocking look and he didn’t bother to answer.
‘You’re unbelievably arrogant,’ she said.
‘You think?’
Yes, she did. But swirling beneath the frost-covered atmosphere was elemental attraction at its most basic. He was appallingly attractive—her body yearned to get closer to his. And when he didn’t back away from her challenge?
Primitive instinct could be a powerful thing. But she had more of a brain than that. So her basic instinct could go bury itself back in the cave it had been dwelling in for the last three years.
‘I have no desire to attract you,’ she declared passionately. Totally meaning every word. ‘This isn’t some ploy with which I hope to gain your grace or favour or sexual interest. You do not interest me in the least.’
‘You interest me,’ he said softly, slicing the ground from under her.
Sensual awareness feathered over her skin.
‘Why San Felipe?’ He stepped closer. ‘Why now?’
Her heart stopped beating as she looked up into his blue eyes. For a second he actually looked human—as if he actually cared. And for a second she longed to open up and just be honest.
But as if she could ever tell him. When he’d so arrogantly assumed she wanted to land herself a princely lover? When he chose to listen to the father who’d always refused to recognise her?
He’d be just another man who denied her.
She wanted him to leave but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. She’d thought she could handle anything. But she wasn’t sure she could handle him.
He reached out as if to take her hand. ‘Why now, Bella?’
Abruptly she turned to avoid his touch.
‘Careful—’
His warning came too late. As she whirled to escape her weak ankle went and she stumbled, catching her thigh on the corner of her desk.
* * *
Antonio winced at the grimace of pain on Bella’s face as she grabbed the desk to stop herself falling down. She’d gashed her leg, just above her knee. As he looked close he saw a long, jagged scar running in a wonky line up her shin.
She paled, her lips pressed together to mute any sound of pain.
It had been so long since he’d had any kind of physical comfort. Or offered any. He’d almost forgotten how. ‘Bella?’
‘It’s fine.’ She straightened and drew in a deep breath.
‘I’m sure,’ he replied, but he knew it wasn’t.
‘Wouldn’t want you thinking this was another ploy.’
‘It is my fault you fell,’ he said stiffly, his hands at his side, wanting to help her yet feeling oddly impotent.
‘You feel responsible? Rest easy, I won’t sue you.’ Her lips compressed. ‘It’s no more damaged than it already was.’
‘It still needs dressing.’ Blood was already oozing from the small wound. ‘You have a first-aid kit?’
‘Of course.’ She didn’t move.
He sighed at her reluctance. ‘I need to see it. Or I’ll revoke your operating licence.’
She gritted her teeth and limped behind her desk. His irritation smouldered. She really didn’t want him to help. Was that because he’d really offended her or because he’d struck too close to the