the Sofia I remember.’
‘You bastard,’ she cried and ran from the gardens towards the safety of the ballroom.
And he knew that, for possibly the first time in any of her exchanges, she had spoken the truth. He was a bastard. Because even as he had lost himself to the kiss, lost himself to the chaotic emotions storming within his chest, his mind was moving at the speed of light.
Because now, it was too late for her. The moment Sofia had issued that half-mustered apology had sealed her fate as surely as the shutter on the camera of the paparazzo Theo had hired to capture the moment of her compromise.
He let loose a bitter laugh. He had hoped that an image of them in a heated argument would do damage enough, but a kiss? So much better for his plan of revenge.
Yes. Sofia de Loria would very much regret the day she had ever thought to play him the fool.
Widow Princess Caught in Clinch with Wine Playboy!
From Widow Princess to Scandalous Princess in One Kiss!
Widow Princess Tames Bad Boy of the Wine Industry!
THE HEADLINES SCREAMED in Sofia’s mind, punctuated by exclamation marks that struck almost physical blows as she threw down the collection of newspapers unceremoniously handed to her by the royal council earlier that day. She peered through the window of the car and cast a glance up and down one of Monaco’s most famous streets. The light illuminating the Plaza del Casino de Mónaco caused the water feature in the centre to sparkle in the night like a thousand diamonds.
And each and every glint scratched against her already frayed nerves and temper.
It wasn’t the fact that she had been captured in a kiss with one of Europe’s most notorious playboys, and splashed across the front pages for the world to see. It wasn’t even the fact that the morning after the party, Joachim—her third and last hope for a fiancé—had regrettably informed Angelique that he could no longer consider matrimony with Sofia.
It was the fact that Theo Tersi—notorious womaniser—had refused to comment. And he always commented. By neither confirming nor denying their speculative questions, he had served only to inflame the rabid press. The Iondorran privy council had further tied her hands and refused to allow a statement to be issued by the royal communications office in a desperate act of blind ignorance, wilfully hoping that it would all ‘blow over’.
But she knew better. Because the sneaking suspicion that had begun the first moment she’d seen the awful photographs had grown into a living, breathing belief that Theo Tersi had somehow managed to orchestrate this whole disaster. The birthday party in Paris had been under a strict press embargo, the girl’s family having sold the rights for images to Paris Match. Furthermore, the only photos surfacing from that night were of them—no other guests—despite the fact that Sofia was aware of at least three front-page headline-worthy incidents. In the last three weeks she had stopped wondering how and instead focused on the why.
She bit back a distinctly unladylike growl as she exited the dark diplomatic-plated sedan, remembering how she had held herself that night as her body trembled after their conversation, after their kiss, as it shook at how he had weakened her. For the hours following, her body left overly sensitised, she had found herself pressing her fingers to her mouth as if in denial or longing, she couldn’t tell, and no matter how much she wished it the low, aching throb between her legs and in her chest had both shocked and terrified her. She had allowed herself that night to feel, to ache, to want. But in the morning when she had seen the headlines, something within her had turned to steel. Sofia dismissed the guards she usually travelled with. She did not want an audience for what was about to happen.
She cast a glance up and down the stunning architecture of the buildings gathered around Monaco’s famous gambling district. She had never been anywhere like it. People filled the streets, couples holding hands, groups of men stalking the bars and cafes brimming with tourists and celebrities. Their excitement was infectious, but she resisted the instinct to relish in their levity, instead clinging to her incredulity that Theo would do something so…so…
Theo had resisted every single attempt she had made to contact him. Email, telephone, text message… she had dismissed the idea of carrier pigeon as ridiculous. In the last two days he had repeatedly posted images of himself on Twitter at some of the many casinos in Monaco, and finally, just an hour ago, she had located this club as his current place of residence, if the latest Victoria’s Secret model to hit the headlines was to be believed.
Two blondes, two Doms and two Ts. Lol.
Lol. Honestly. Sofia had barely repressed the acidic taste of bile at the back of her throat the moment she saw the accompanying obligatory selfie of two beautiful blondes, two bottles of Dom Perignon and ‘TT’, aka Theo Tersi, grinning in the background as if he was purposefully taunting Sofia. Which he was.
Clearly less than two hundred and eighty characters were needed to explain the models’ ecstasy, and the fact they had snared Theo’s legendarily short attention span.
She knew that Theo wasn’t naïve or stupid. He must have known that every single indecent headline following the publication of their kiss nearly three weeks ago now would take her down with him. She knew that this was an act of revenge, knew that in his mind she most definitely deserved it. And in a very small, very quiet part of her own mind, she feared that he might be right. But right or wrong had no place here. She needed to get him to issue a denial so that she could do whatever damage limitation was required and press forward with her hopes to find a forgiving fiancé.
Her heartbeat thrummed beneath the thin silk top and jeans she had chosen with the express purpose of blending in. Her aim was to get in, get him to agree and get out, without being spotted. In her youth, she had achieved much greater things under the radar. Surely this would be possible?
Her inner voice mocked her naivety, while her desperation drove her forward.
She reminded herself that no one would be looking for her here. It was the first time in nearly ten years that she’d been outside amongst people without the trappings of her royal status and she was slightly fascinated and slightly sad.
Sofia couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like had her father not become ill. Yes, she still would have ascended to the throne, but could she have had some time? Time to explore a little fun, or even herself just a little…more? Would she have found some enjoyment in life in a way she could never do now? Not that she would ever have been able to fritter away money on a hand of cards, or tweet mindlessly using emojis and take selfies with any number of handsome men.
If her father hadn’t come to find her that night, would she have risked it all and found a way to be with Theo as she had often dreamed? No matter how hard she tried to imagine what would have happened had she met him behind the shrubs at their boarding school, rather than the headmaster who must have been sent by her father, she just couldn’t. Was that because it could never have truly happened as she had once told herself? Or because she had spent years repressing those exact thoughts and desires for far too long? She could no longer say.
Still, the Theo that she fell in love with all those years ago was now long gone. There had been no trace of him in the eyes of the man who had mocked her so cruelly. Who had taunted her, teased
