are lucky.’
He shrugged, a simple, eloquent gesture that spoke volumes when combined with the wistful tone in his voice.
At that precise moment, Natasha could’ve sworn the prince sounded lonely. Very lonely.
‘I know. Now, I’m sorry, but I really must dash.’
She stood quickly, eager to put distance between them before she leaned over and gave him a comforting hug. He looked like he needed one.
Though maybe that had more to do with her crazy hormones coming to life after a few glimpses of his muscled chest beneath cotton?
Either way, she wasn’t sticking around.
‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. And for agreeing to assist with that other matter.’ He stood and gave a strange, little formal bow which made her want to giggle, considering his bad-boy outfit.
Guys with day-old stubble, unruly hair and faded denim didn’t bow. They rode motorbikes and broke hearts maybe, but bowing? Uh-uh.
‘If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me,’ she said out of habit as she grabbed her purse and stood.
Not that His Sneaky Highness would need anything more of her. She bet he had his whole week planned out, starting with a rendezvous with the royal floozy.
‘How do you propose I do that?’
She halted, surprised by the hint of urgency in his voice. ‘Uh…through Reception.’
He sent her a sceptical look as if knowing she was giving him the brush-off.
Okay, so it wouldn’t be too smart to get her walking, talking promo-dream offside this early. She needed to appear a tad friendlier, more approachable.
Unsure if what she was about to do was the right thing or a huge mistake, she rifled through her purse and handed him a business card. ‘Or, here’s my mobile. You can contact me on that number if you need anything.’
As long as it wasn’t a triple choc-fudge sundae in the middle of the night!
‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
Natasha returned his smile, knowing he was only being polite but unable to shake the deep-seated niggle that there was more to this prince’s charade than met the eye—and she’d just handed him an easy way to involve her in it!
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOU’RE late.’
Ella tapped her watch and sent a mock glower Natasha’s way as her friend rushed into Trevi’s and fell into her usual seat.
‘Sorry,’ Natasha said, unable to stop a smile spreading across her face.
She’d never been any good at keeping gossip involving guys from her best friend and, considering the afternoon she’d had, starting with meeting Dante and ending in agreeing to assist his clandestine plans, she knew this would be another one of those times where she couldn’t help but share. Every last juicy detail…
‘No, you’re not.’ Ella grinned and gestured for Luigi, their favourite waiter, to bring them the usual. ‘You’ve got that look that says you’ve been up to no good. And enjoying it way too much.’
Natasha laughed and threw her hands up in surrender. ‘Give me a chance to catch my breath! And remind me to never try and hide anything from you. What are you anyway—the secret police?’
Ella pounced as soon as the words left her mouth. ‘Ah! So you do have a secret! Come on, tell all.’
‘Can’t I at least wait till my mocha-cappuccino arrives?’
‘No!’ Ella shouted, and Luigi’s head snapped up from the coffee machine, an indulgent smile on his face as he winked at his two favourite customers. Though Natasha suspected he said that to all the girls.
Natasha usually enjoyed toying with Ella, feeding her tiny titbits of gossip gleaned from her varied and unusual jobs in the hotel. However, by the avaricious gleam in Ella’s eyes, she knew now wasn’t one of those times to tease. Besides, she had the strangest urge to blurt the whole truth out and get her friend’s point of view.
‘Okay. Though what I’m about to say must adhere strictly to our lips-zipped policy, right?’
‘Absolutely,’ Ella said, miming a quick-lock zip over her lips and throwing away the key. ‘It’s nothing serious, is it?’
‘No, everything’s fine.’
She’d make sure of it.
There was no way she’d ever burden her friend with her financial troubles or the fact she could lose her home if the Towers went under.
Ella snapped her fingers. ‘I know! It has something to do with the prince. How did it go? Has he swept you off your feet? Does he want to take you back to his castle and make you his love slave? Should I buy you some of those funky princess slippers?’
Natasha laughed, more than a little disturbed that Ella’s preposterous questions elicited a thrill of excitement. What would it be like to be swept off her feet by a prince and spirited away to his castle to live happily ever after like the fairytales promised?
Something you’ll never know about, her voice of reason screeched, and even the small romantic part of her that had survived Clay’s treachery, the part that still harboured dreams of finding the elusive ‘one’ despite what she’d been through, had to agree.
‘You can hold off on the slippers,’ Natasha said, watching Ella lean forward with an avid look on her face. ‘I don’t think I’m the prince’s type.’
‘But you’re gorgeous! You could have any man you want.’ Ella’s indignant quick-fire response brought an unexpected lump to Natasha’s throat.
Ella had stuck by her through dating disasters, the Clay fiasco and her mum’s death. She was loyal, fierce and beautiful inside and out.
‘Thanks, but I think the prince has other fish to fry, so to speak. He’s going incognito for a week and has asked me to keep his identity a secret. He’s checked in under a false name, is parading around like an unshaven lout, and is determined to keep his true identity under wraps.’
‘Wow.’ Ella’s eyes widened, digesting the interesting news before her razor-sharp mind predictably focussed elsewhere. ‘Unshaven lout? I thought you said he looked pretty uptight.’
‘I was wrong.’
Very wrong.
An instant image of dazzling blue eyes, day-old stubble, tousled dark curls and a sexy smile flashed across her mind.
‘Uptight’ didn’t begin to describe what she thought of Dante.
Unfortunately, some of what she was thinking must’ve shown on her face for Ella leaned closer and patted her forearm. ‘Okay, spill it. You’ve given me the official lips-zipped version. Now, tell me more about this prince. Is he hot?’
