him that I am taking care of you and that you will return for your hearing with suitable representation.’
‘And in return?’ For the first time since he’d arrived Luca actually smiled. ‘You mean you want me as your puttana,’ Meg spat. It was one of the few Italian words she did know—she had heard it several times since she’d been locked up, and it was one of the few words that needed little translation. He was literally offering to buy her company. ‘You’re not doing this out of some false sense of duty to Alex, you’re offering this because of how I look!’
‘Well, you don’t look very good at this moment,’ Luca retorted, ‘but I think you will scrub up very nicely. This is a good offer, Meg,’ he continued. ‘You can stay here and take your chances with the guards and your fellow prisoners, or I will pay your bail and you can come with me and stay in luxurious surrounds until Tuesday, when I will arrange full access to one of the best lawyers on the mainland.’
‘And for the privilege—I’ll have to share your bed!’
‘Of course.’ He stared down at his watch, tapped an impatient foot as he awaited her decision, and her first instinct was to slap him, to spit on his arrogant face and tell him where the hell he could put his offer, but something held her back. Realisation sank in that she was here for the duration. Her passport had already been taken, her belongings locked away. Here she had no rights, no possessions, but as the prince’s mistress she would be afforded decent legal representation—could get out of this mess through the correct channels instead of offering some sleazy bribe.
She still had a choice.
She would choose to eat at his table, choose to share his bed, but she wouldn’t share her heart…. Luca Fierezza had enough money and power to buy her company for a short while, but he would never hold her heart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY DROVE IN SILENCE to the palace, Luca’s car hugging the beach road, the palace easily visible thanks to a vast moon hanging low in the sky, but despite the warm night air as she’d stepped from the prison to the custody of her new jailer, Meg had started violently shivering, so she sat now huddled in the passenger seat wearing Luca’s jacket.
‘Why aren’t we going to the casino?’
‘You will be recognised at the casino—you are on the black list. Until we can arrange for some new clothes, your hair to be done differently, you will have to stay away from there.’
‘But surely.’
‘The staff at the palace are discreet—that is why I am taking you there.’
‘Won’t they at least want to know who I am?’
‘Why would they?’ Luca shrugged and she glanced over at him, taking in his perfect profile, the sheer maleness he radiated, the absolute arrogant beauty of him, and the unpalatable truth was further affirmed. They wouldn’t ask questions because this was clearly a regular occurrence—oh, not the rescue from the jail, but clearly the palace staff were more than used to Luca arriving home at all hours with a woman in tow! ‘I will arrange a doctor to come and tend to your cut.’
‘I don’t need a doctor, and anyway,’ Meg added, ‘surely he would ask questions.’
‘Why would he? I pay for his discretion,’ Luca responded with all the arrogance of the truly rich, but he did at least concede that her arrival might cause some issues, because as the gates to a private road slid open and the car approached he momentarily stopped and, with the engine idling, he turned to face her.
‘This is what we do. I tell my family the truth—you are Alessandro’s sister, you came to the island to look him up not realising he had already left. That is why I am taking care of you.’
‘So am I here as Alex’s sister or your mistress?’ Meg quipped, but Luca, as always, had an answer.
‘Both.’ He turned and gave her a dry smile. ‘Just remember, though, your first duty is to me.’
‘And the cut?’ Meg snapped. ‘Did that come in the line of duty?’
‘Jet-skiing.’ Luca gave a rare smile—clearly happy with his fabrication. ‘You had an accident jet-skiing today when you were exploring. You were hoping your brother would be able to patch you up.’
‘That’s not the truth,’ Meg pointed out.
‘Oh, but from now on it is.’ Black eyes bore into hers. ‘You really don’t expect me to tell them you were attempting to steal the Niroli jewels, do you?’
‘No, because that isn’t the truth, either.’
He didn’t respond, just pulled off the handbrake and drove along the stretch of road towards the palace, orange groves flanking their progress. Despite the vile day, despite an exhausted mind that just wanted to switch from all that was happening, Meg couldn’t help but be impressed at the sheer splendour of the building she’d till now only glimpsed from a distance. A huge fourteenth-century castle, it stood proud on the edge of the ocean as if carved out of the rocks itself, and Meg could scarcely believe that this was where she would be calling home for the next few days.
Even before the car had slid to a halt, despite the lateness of the hour the door was opened by waiting staff, but Luca barely greeted them, just exchanging a few words with a burly, suited gentleman before taking a stunned and shivering Meg by the arm and leading her to a side entrance, which Meg soon realised was the access to the palace’s private apartments.
‘That was my bodyguard, Luigi,’ Luca needlessly explained his earlier conversation. ‘He is annoyed that again I did not tell him I was leaving the casino. I will speak with him in the morning—if you need to leave the palace for any reason, he is to drive and accompany you.’
‘I don’t need an escort,’ Meg responded tightly.
‘Perhaps not,’ Luca answered as he pushed open the door to his apartment, ‘but since I signed your bail papers you are my responsibility. I want to be sure I know where you are—and, more importantly, that you will return.’
She was too tired to be indignant or even attempt a smart retort. She stepped inside Luca’s luxurious apartment. Someone on the gate must have alerted the staff, because even though it was only a matter of minutes since the car had entered the palace grounds there was a fire taking hold in the magnificent marble fireplace and the lights were all on. A large whisky had been poured and set on an occasional table, which Luca downed in one gulp while Meg still stood at the doorway taking in her surrounds. Lavishly furnished, the apartment had been exquisitely refurbished—somehow managing to combine the fourteenth-century décor with all the luxuries of the twenty-first century. Vast high walls were broken by voile curtains that swept the shuttered windows, a papal purple carpet runner softened the cool Italian marble floor. The apartment was a virtual treasure trove of antiques and under any other circumstances Meg would have been thrilled to explore, but all she could do was stand and shiver, overwhelmed with fatigue, and Luca, for the first time since the prison, was gently perceptive, guiding her limp body across to the warmth of the fire.
‘Even in summer the castle is cool at night,’ Luca explained, but there was a worried edge to his voice, his hand running over her forehead as if she were a child and he were checking her temperature, ‘The doctor will be here soon.’
‘You’ve
