‘What will you do with the one of me in the palace gardens?’
‘File it away somewhere, I suppose.’
‘I think you should show it to a top gallery owner in London or New York. Set up a solo exhibition. It would be a way to launch your career as an artist. Painting a royal portrait is every artist’s—’
‘No.’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘But why? What’s the point of doing such delicate and exquisite work and hiding it in the bottom drawer as if you’re ashamed of it?’
His expression tightened. ‘My artwork is private. I want to keep it that way.’
‘But why?’
‘Because there’s nothing else in my life that is private.’
Lottie looked at him oddly. ‘But I thought you liked drawing all that attention to yourself. You seem to deliberately court scandal. You said it’s your brand.’
He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Leave it, cara. I’m not after a big career in the arts.’
‘What do you want, Lucca?’
His eyes moved away from hers. ‘You know what I want. I want my share of the family trust fund.’
She rose from the dressing-table stool and came over to him. ‘You’ve had money all your life and it hasn’t made you happy.’
‘What makes you think I’m not happy?’
Lottie looked into his masked gaze. ‘Happy people don’t create negative drama, even if it’s mostly directed at themselves.’
A mocking smile tilted his mouth. ‘You should ask for a refund on that psychoanalyst degree you’re brandishing about. It’s rubbish.’
‘That’s a defence mechanism of yours. You make a joke of everything but inside you’re not laughing. You’re hurting.’
A line of tension rippled through his jaw but his smile was all easy laid-back charm. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we have two weeks to get through before your sister’s wedding. The world is kind of hooked on us getting it on so calling it quits right now would upset a lot of people and take the shine off your sister’s big day. Not to mention ruin my chances of claiming my trust fund. But hey, I’ll give you the choice. I’m cool either way.’
Lottie rolled her lips together. Did he really not give a damn whether their relationship continued or not? How could he be so easy going about it? Had she made no impression on him at all? Did he care nothing for her other than as just another lover he had taken to his bed?
It would serve him right if she did end it.
But of course she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Madeleine had already cautioned her about overshadowing her big day. Ending her affair with Lucca would draw a lot of unnecessary attention.
Besides, she didn’t want it to end.
Her heart gave a painfully tight squeeze. Admitting her feelings was dangerous. It made her want to think about things she had no business thinking about … Lucca and her together, not just for a couple of weeks but for a lifetime. Getting married. Having babies. Building a life of happiness and security for their family that he had missed out on in his lonely and traumatic childhood. Pipe dreams … all of them. That was the trouble with falling in love with a man who didn’t believe in love lasting. How many women thought they were the one to unlock a closed heart only to have theirs broken for their effort? Thousands. Millions.
‘I don’t want anything to spoil Madeleine and Edward’s wedding,’ she said.
He gave a slow nod. ‘Fine.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘You wouldn’t really forfeit your trust fund … would you?’
‘Not for the sake of two weeks.’
What about for the sake of me? Lottie pushed the thought aside before it could get a foothold. ‘Is it a lot of money?’
He picked up her royal-crested silver hairbrush and turned it over in his hands. ‘Not by some people’s standards.’
‘But it’s what it represents, right?’
He stood behind her and started brushing her hair. Long, deliciously sensual strokes that made each hair on her head shiver in ecstasy. ‘I know you think I’m a blood-sucking parasite but—’
‘Please don’t remind me of how outspoken I was that day.’
He smiled at her crookedly in the mirror but it was another one of those sad smiles that made her heart constrict at the thought of the pain and loneliness he had experienced as a child. ‘Has anyone ever told you what beautiful hair you have?’
He was changing the subject, another defence mechanism he had perfected. But this time she didn’t call him on it. He had his reasons for wanting to claim his family’s money. It was no business of hers to criticise him for it or to try and dissuade him from following through on it. ‘You did … last night.’
‘So I did.’ He turned her so she was facing him. He tilted up her face and looked into her gaze for endless seconds, his thumb moving back and forth over her cheek like a slow-beating arm of a metronome. ‘It’s true, little princess. You are beautiful.’
Lottie put her hand over his. ‘I’ve never felt it until I met you.’
He slid his hand out from under hers and used it to tuck her hair back behind her ear as if she was six years old. ‘I have to get back to the hotel. There’s a staff issue my father’s CEO wants me to look into.’ Was it her imagination or had his voice sounded deeper and huskier than normal?
He was at the door before she could find her own voice and it too came out husky.
‘Lucca?’
He glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘Yes?’
‘Thank you …’
‘For?’
‘Just … thank you.’
His hand fell away from the doorknob as a frown settled on his forehead. ‘Lottie … you do realise this thing we’ve got going is not going to continue once I leave here, don’t you?’
Lottie fought hard to keep her expression serenely composed. ‘But of course. How could it? I live here. You live in England. Long-distance relationships never work. And I hate flying, remember?’
He gave another slow nod. ‘Good. Glad we got that sorted.’
‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you?’
‘Good God, no.’ His laugh was like a punch to her heart. ‘I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long.’
‘Not bored out of your brain yet?’
