Careful not to wake her, he left Callie at dawn. Breakfast meetings were the norm for him. With her hair tousled, and her face still flushed with sleep, she had never looked more desirable, but he was a slave to duty. Both his royal council and his business concerns called him this morning. And then there was the ball tonight. He grimaced as he glanced at the gown he’d ruined. But there were plenty more on the rail. Callie would have to forget about being understated for one night, and just choose one of them.
* * *
Callie woke slowly, cautiously. At first she didn’t know where she was. Her head was ploughed into a stack of pillows scented with lavender and sunshine. The bed was firmer than she was used to, the duvet softer...and her body felt very well used. With a groan of contentment, she turned her face, relishing the touch of the smooth white cotton, and inhaled deeply. Slowly, it all came back to her. Reaching out a hand, she searched for Luca, and stilled when she discovered the bed at her side was empty. Sitting up, she could see the indentation of his head on the pillow, so she hadn’t imagined last night. She really was at the palace. The palace! In the most sumptuous suite of rooms imaginable. Incredible. But it was very quiet. She stilled and knew at once she was alone.
Hearing a knock on the door, she hastily pulled up the sheet to cover her naked body. ‘Yes?’ It had to be the maid. Spotting what remained of the glamorous gown still strewn on the floor, she called out, ‘Just a minute,’ and leapt out of bed. Gossip would spread like wildfire in the palace. Why fan the flames? Gathering up the dress, she brought it back to the bed, and stuffed it out of sight beneath the bedding. ‘Come in,’ she called out brightly.
The maid entered carrying a breakfast tray. There was a single red rose in a silver vase on the tray. ‘From His Serene Highness,’ the maid explained as she set down the tray. ‘He has suggested that you rest this morning in preparation for the ball.’
Recover, he meant, Callie thought dryly, showing nothing of her thoughts on the passionate night before on her face. ‘Thank you for bringing my breakfast,’ she said warmly, ‘but I will be getting up.’
‘Oh, and this arrived by courier,’ the maid said as she handed Callie a package she had lodged under her arm.
‘For me?’ Callie exclaimed with surprise.
She bolted breakfast as the maid opened the curtains and threw the windows wide. She couldn’t wait to open the unexpected parcel, but wanted to do so when she was alone.
‘Anything else I can get for you?’ the maid asked politely before she left.
‘Nothing. Thank you.’
Turning over the large padded envelope, Callie smiled broadly. The bold handwriting gave the game away, as did the UK stamp. ‘Ma Brown,’ she breathed. ‘What have you done now?’
What Ma had done was to go shopping at a popular high street store, where she’d found the perfect dress for Callie to wear at the ball. Callie gasped with pleasure as she held it up and saw her reflection. The dress was simple and elegant. At last, a dress she could feel comfortable in. She’d take a shower and then she’d try it on.
The fine flesh-coloured fabric slithered over Callie’s naked body like a second skin. It couldn’t have fitted her better. The design was uncannily similar to the gown that lay ruined on the bed. The popular brand was a known fast follower that could have catwalk looks available for sale within hours. She would go to the ball, Callie concluded with amusement as she slipped on a pair of high-heeled shoes, and in a dress worth infinitely more to her than all those expensive gowns on the rail put together. Picking up her phone to thank her best of friends, she smiled with pleasure. ‘Oh, Ma Brown, you’ve really come up trumps this time,’ she murmured as she waited for the call to connect.
* * *
It was the evening of the grand ball and all his guests had arrived, but where was Callie? He wasn’t accustomed to waiting. Tonight of all nights, a late arrival was unacceptable. Her maid had been given strict instructions regarding timing. Royals were expected to be punctual. Everything ran to clockwork precision. There was no leeway for a few minutes either way. With impatience, he turned his attention from the entrance where Callie was due to appear, to the guests who were waiting to meet him.
Laughter and excitement filled the room. There was a huge sense of expectation. No one had refused his invitation to the ball. There were rumours of an announcement tonight and interest was running high. He felt a great sense of love and gratitude for the restoration his father, the late Prince, had carried out so efficiently on the glorious old building, and this did soothe him to some small degree. The ballroom was a glittering spectacle with huge chandeliers glittering like diamond globes beneath a domed sky of priceless frescoes. An orchestra of the most talented Viennese musicians set the mood. Waiters in black dress trousers and short white jackets, braided with the royal colours, carried solid gold trays bearing a selection of canapés prepared by the world’s top chefs. There were two champagne fountains, as well as tall crystal flutes of vintage champagne being offered to guests at priceless French ormolu tables that lined the room. Nearly every country was represented. Splendidly dressed royals dripping in family jewels mingled with diplomats and top-ranking soldiers. No one was too proud to sup at his table. Guessing that tonight would be talked about for years had winkled out even the most standoffish royal. Everyone was keen to see how the boy from the gutters had transformed into a prince.
So where was she?
There was no excuse for this. He had instructed his private secretary to commission the finest hairdressers and beauticians to assist Callie with her preparations for tonight. He couldn’t believe her personal maid had failed to get her out on time. Did Callie hope to slip in unnoticed? Was she coming at all?
He gave a grim shrug. Callie Smith was the one woman he could never predict. Summoning a footman, he sent a message to Signorina Smith’s maid to ask how much longer she would be. The man hurried off, leaving Luca to seethe in silence.
* * *
Well, this was it, Callie concluded as two liveried footmen swung the gilded double doors wide. She had politely asked the hairdressers and make-up artists to leave, preferring to get ready by herself, and now there was just this small hurdle of a ballroom packed with the great and good to overcome. She inhaled sharply at the scene of dazzling glamour, and was almost blinded by the flash of diamonds and the light flaring from countless chandeliers. Trust me to forget my tiara tonight, she mused wryly. Lifting her chin, she walked forward.
‘Signorina Callista Smith.’
Callie glanced around as the disembodied voice of a famous television personality announced her arrival at the ball.
‘That’s you, miss,’ one of the friendly footmen who’d opened the door for her prompted in an exaggerated stage whisper.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered back.
In the time it had taken Callie to say this, every head had turned her way. Even the orchestra paused, leaving her at the top of a dizzying flight of marble steps. The solid mass of people below her looked impenetrable, and not exactly welcoming. Her throat dried. She clenched her hands into fists at her side. She could only pray the stiletto heels fairy was on her side tonight.
‘Wait...’
Every head swivelled to stare at Luca. His familiar voice stripped the tension from her shoulders. Her gaze fixed on him as the crowd parted to let him through. Whatever remained of her breath flew from her lungs as he strode forward. In full dress uniform, with his sash of office drawing attention to his powerful chest, this was the man she