by Dani Collins
Amy caught her gasp in her hand. Talk about making a traumatic situation even more distressing for all involved!
“Luca, I’m so sorry.” Her hand went to his arm before she realized she was doing it.
He didn’t react beyond stiffening under her touch.
She’d seen clients shut down like this, doing whatever they had to in order to carry on with their daily lives. It told her exactly how badly his father’s behavior had affected him.
“Look, I have to ask before we go any further. Are you sure you’re not just reacting to what you’ve experienced? I’d want to wash my hands of this role if I were in your shoes. That’s understandable, but what you’ve asked me to do is not a decision you should make in haste.”
“It’s not one incident, Amy. It’s everything he stood for. All of the things I’ve learned he was capable of, now that I’m privy to it. It’s appalling. There was a thorough cleaning of house once I took the throne, but how can I claim to be righting his wrongs if I ignore the very basic one where he installed me as monarch instead of my sister?”
The flash of a tortured conscience behind his searing blue eyes tempted her to shift her fingers in a soothing caress. She moved her hand to the soft moss that had grown on the stone wall and scanned the view through the trees.
“And no one will listen to this extremely rational argument? Let you turn things over without drastic measures?”
“My supporters see Sofia as an excellent spare, but they are extremely attached to keeping me exactly where I am. Our constitution doesn’t allow an abdication without proper cause. Even if I was incapacitated, I would keep the crown and Sofia would rule as a regent until I died. I’ve exhausted all other avenues. This is what’s left. I have to prove myself a detriment to the country. An embarrassment that can’t be tolerated because I’m too much like my father after all.”
“Okay. Well...” She considered all she’d learned, formally and informally. “Most scandals fall into three categories—sex, drugs and corruption. It sounds like your father had his toe in all of those?”
“He did.”
“It’s hard to come back from embezzlement or political payoffs. I wouldn’t want to tar you as a crook, especially if you’re planning to take an active part in improving Vallia’s economy afterward.”
“Agreed.”
“Drug scandals usually require a stay in a rehab facility and ongoing counseling. Addiction is an illness, so there’s a risk you’d be expected to continue to rule. It’s also very complicated to manage image-wise. There has to be sincere, visible effort, and it becomes a lifelong process of proving sobriety. There’s always a certain mistrust that lingers in the public eye. The world expects a recovering addict to trip and is always watching for it. I would prefer not to use a drug scandal.”
“So that leaves us with sex.” His mouth curled with dismay.
“Yes. People love to act outraged over sexual exploits, but they all have their own peccadillos to hide so they tend to move on fairly quickly.”
“It can’t be anything harassment related or exploitative,” he said firmly.
“No,” she quickly agreed. “I couldn’t defend that, even a manufactured charge. London Connection is always on the victim’s side in those cases. It will have to be something compromising, like cheating or adultery.” She tapped her chin in thought.
“That would mean courting my way into a relationship with someone in order to betray her. I don’t want to use or hurt an unsuspecting woman.”
“Something that suggests you have a streak of your father’s tastes, then?”
“I’m won’t be tied up and spanked. That’s not my thing.”
“Like anyone would believe you’re a bottom. I’m sorry!” She hid her wince behind her hand. “These are habits of a lifetime, trying to be funny to keep a mood light.”
After a silence that landed like a thump, he drawled, “I’m definitely a top.” The firmness in his tone underscored his preference for dominating in bed.
Which caused the most inexplicable swoop in her stomach. Runnels of tingling intrigue radiated into her loins, much to her everlasting chagrin.
When she risked a glance up at him, she saw humor glinting in his eyes along with something speculative that noted the blush on her cheekbones.
Her heart swerved, and she shot her attention to the sea while her shoulders longed for the weight of his hands. Something wanton in her imagination pictured him drawing her arms behind her back by the elbows while he kissed the side of her neck and told her not to move.
While he held her. Claimed her.
Her scalp tingled in anticipation and she refused to look down, deeply aware her nipples were straining against the soft silk of her dress, swollen and tight and throbbing with lust.
“Perhaps...um...” Her voice rasped and her brain was wandering around drunk in the dark. “Something with role-play?” she suggested tautly.
“Leak a photo of me wearing pointy ears or dressed like one of those gladiators?” He thumbed back toward the path. “No, thanks.”
He would so rock a leather sword belt. She licked her lips. “Voyeurism?”
“Hidden cameras? Gross.”
“What if you, um, did something questionable in public?”
“Caught with my pants down? Like a flasher?”
“With someone.”
“Mmm.” He grimaced as he considered it. “It has potential, but it means compromising someone else, and naked photos are forever. Keep going.”
“You’re really hard to please.”
“You’ll get there,” he chided.
A fluttery excitement teased through her.
“Group sex?” she suggested, then realized that might be too reminiscent of his father.
Luca’s gaze held her own in a way that made her stumbling heart climb into her throat.
“I prefer to give one woman one hundred percent of my attention,” he stated. “And I refuse to compete for hers.”
So dominant.
Bam, bam, bam went her heart, hammering the base of her throat while the rest of her was slithery honey and prickly nerve endings.
“The only thing left is tickle fights and foot fetishes.” She turned her gaze to the water, nose questing for any hint of breeze to cool her blood. She was boiling inside her own skin.
“I like a pretty shoe,” he allowed in a voice that angled down to where her silk dress fluttered against her ankles. His voice climbed as his attention came up. “Quality lingerie is always worth appreciating.”
He could see the sea-foam green of her lacy bra cup peeking from the open buttons at her chest; she was sure of it. Could he also see she was fighting not to pant in reaction? Why, oh, why was she responding to him so strongly?
“But it’s hardly a crime to admire a beautiful woman, is it?”
Was that what he was doing? Because she was pretty sure she was being seduced.
“I want to do something bad, Amy.”
She choked on a semihysterical laugh, fighting to stay professional and on task while imagining him—Don’t, she scolded herself. Don’t imagine him doing anything, especially not making babies with y—
“Oh! Baby daddy!” She leaped on it, pointing so hard toward him, she almost poked him in the chest. “A woman claims to be pregnant with your baby.”
His brow went up toward his hairline. “That sort of extortion died when DNA tests came along, didn’t it?”
“That’s why it would be taken seriously.” She spoke fast as she warmed to it. “Women don’t make the claim unless they’ve actually slept with the potential father. Here’s what I like about this idea.” She excitedly ticked off on her fingers. “It’s a very human mistake that still makes you seem virile, and you’ll take the honorable steps to accept responsibility. But, because she’s not suitable as a queen, it o
pens the door for your sister to question your judgment and take over.”
“It won’t work.” He dismissed it flatly. “If I conceive a baby while I’m on the throne, my honor would demand that I marry her. That child would become the future ruler of Vallia and my sister would be sidelined forever.”
“There is no baby.” Amy opened her hands like it was a magic act. “We’ll keep the timeline very short. We leak that a woman approached you and thinks she’s pregnant. You take the possibility seriously, but even while the scandal is blowing up, she learns it was a false alarm. She wasn’t actually pregnant. That way the trauma of a pregnancy loss can be avoided. The scandal will be about you taking reckless chances with your country’s future. Your sister can call you irresponsible and take the throne.”
His brow was still furrowed. “There’s no actual woman? I’m the only name in the press? I like that.”
“I think you need a living, breathing woman.” She wrinkled her nose. “Otherwise the public will search forever for this mystery woman. You’d have people coming forward for generations, claiming to be your long-lost descendant. No, you need someone you conceivably—ha ha—could have met and slept with. Perhaps a reality star or a pop singer. Let me go through my contact list. I’m sure I can find a few women who would be willing to do something like this as a publicity stunt.”
He cringed.
“You hate it?” She had been so proud, convinced this was a workable plan.
“I don’t love that I have to use someone, but if she’s in the know from the beginning and getting something out of it, I can live with it. This sounds effective without being too unsavory.” He nodded. “Run with it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
A DISTANT NOISE INTRUDED, but Luca ignored it and continued indulging his lascivious fantasy of Amy’s dress unbuttoned to her waist, held closed only by the wide black corset-style belt. Her lacy green bra and underwear would hold the heat of her body and have a delicious silky abrasive texture against his lips and questing touch. She—
“Signor?” His private secretary and lifelong adviser cleared his throat very pointedly, forcing Luca to abandon his musing and focus on the fact that Guillermo was standing in his office, awaiting acknowledgment.
“Yes?” Luca prompted.
“About Ms. Miller’s work with the charity...” Guillermo closed the door.
“Is she shaking things up? Because that’s what I hired her to do.” If she appeared to be an impulsive, misguided decision on his part, all the better.
Guillermo’s mouth tightened before he forced a flat smile. “The palace PR team is perfectly capable of handling this last-minute promotion of the gala. In fact, the foundation’s board could carry the event over the finish line without any help at all so I’m not sure why Ms. Miller is necessary.”
This was the sort of micromanaging Luca had suffered all his life and would have burned to the ground if he’d been planning to remain king. Given their lifelong relationship, Luca could also tell Guillermo smelled an ulterior motive and was digging to find it.
“The board of directors are my mother’s contemporaries,” Luca said. “They’re committed and passionate, but at some point, adhering to tradition only demonstrates a lack of imagination. We’re there.”
“Have you seen Ms. Miller’s contemporaries? Her online presence is very colorful.” It wasn’t a compliment.
“She’s well-connected and understands how to leverage that community.”
“But to whom is she connected, signor? That is my concern. She’s photographed with a lot of men, often in relation to a drug charge or the like.”
“It’s her job to mitigate scandals.”
“Are we certain she’s not actually the source of them?” Guillermo wasn’t being an alarmist. Their previous head of PR had been an enabler to the former king’s vices. “Even if she’s aboveboard, she wishes to pitch the directors on having the foundation’s logo embroidered onto pajamas to be sold as a fundraiser. She thinks celebrities could be encouraged to post photos of themselves wearing them. Might I remind you, signor, of your standing instruction that all those associated with royal interests project a more dignified profile than we’ve seen in the past? Have I missed an announcement that your attitude has changed?”
“You know it hasn’t,” Luca said flatly. “I’ll have Amy tell me about the pajama idea over dinner and judge for myself.”
Guillermo didn’t take the hint that he was dismissed. “Is dining with her a good idea? She’s very familiar. She makes frequent jokes.”
Dio aiutami, his patience was hanging by a thread. “Off with her head, then.”
“I’m merely pointing out that if she were a true British subject, she might understand the role of a sovereign, but she was born in America—”
“She has the gall to be an American? What will we do?”
“Signor, I wouldn’t want her levity or imprudence to cast any shadows upon you.”
“A moment ago, she was too colorful. Would she not cast rainbows?”
“She is already rubbing off on you if you’re not taking my counsel seriously. Ms. Miller is a poor fit for any palace endeavor,” Guillermo insisted.
“On the contrary, Amy understands influence and image better than you or I ever will. That’s why I hired her.” Luca was genuinely annoyed by his secretary’s snobbish dismissal of a woman who was a font of problem-solving ideas. She had quickly grasped the pros and cons of his unusual request and shaped a workable plan in the shortest possible time. She was the type of person he loved to hire. Instead, he was surrounded by stodgy relics who started their day by shooting protocol directly into their veins.
“I’m sure her image is what influenced you,” Guillermo sniffed.
“What are you implying?” Luca narrowed his eyes.
“Only that she’s very beautiful. The sort of woman who might charm and distract a man from his duties. Impact his judgment.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Luca lied flagrantly, adding with significant bite, “But if you’re having trouble seeing past the fact she’s attractive, I’ll work with her personally. Safer for all.”
“Signor, I am perfectly capable of working with her.”
“But I’m not?” Luca was down to his last nerve. “I am thirty-one and the king. It’s time you trust me to know what I’m doing.” As I nuke my own life...but needs must.
Do you? Guillermo didn’t say it, but the words echoed around the room all the same.
“You’re dismissed.”
Guillermo closed the door on his way out with a firm click.
Luca hissed out a disgusted breath. Guillermo wasn’t stupid. Or wrong. If he’d been a true detriment to the family, the palace, or Vallia, he wouldn’t hold the position he did.
Luca was resolved, however, in giving up the crown. The part where he was all too aware of Amy’s attributes wasn’t part of the plan. He was crossing certain lines if only within his own mind, imagining how snugly silk and lace would sit against Amy’s skin. It reinforced temptations that were already difficult to resist.
And much as he was willing to appear fallible, he didn’t want to do anything that would sit on his conscience—like make an unwanted pass at an employee. Dignity and responsibility had been his watchwords all his life. He had never had room for even those small human mistakes that Amy found so forgivable.
Her accepting nature was as disarming as her sense of humor and sparkling beauty. He’d signed the contract she’d sent him so he knew she was legally bound to keep his secrets, but he was still unnerved at how easily he’d told her about his father. The night of his father’s death had been horrific and something he’d expected to take to his grave—even though it sat inside him like a boil.
Lancing that poison had been a profound relief. Maybe she was onto something about building rapport with her clients.
He c
hoked on a fresh laugh as he recalled her blurted joke. Half-past oral sex and quarter till—
What had she been about to say? Doggy-style?
So inappropriate, considering their professional relationship, but damned if he wouldn’t recall that remark every time he looked at the sundial in future. And laugh instead of wanting to bash it apart with a sledgehammer.
He’d fought noticing how the graphic statues were affecting her as they walked through them. She’d been curious, as anyone would be. They were meant to be sexually provocative. He’d seen her blushes and lingering looks and the way her nipples had poked against the cups of her bra beneath the layer of her silk dress.
He’d had his own stiffness to disguise. In another life they might have had an entirely different sort of conversation among those athletic examples of libidinous acts, one that might have ended in an attempt to emulate—
Stop. He couldn’t let himself do this. He had hired her.
To ruin him.
And their conversation on how best to go about that had been some of the most amusing banter he’d enjoyed in ages.
Guillermo was right. Amy could be very dangerous to him on a personal level.
Even so, he glanced at his watch and decided he was hungry for an early dinner.
* * *
Amy eyed the slim-fit chive-green pants and the madras patterned jacket in pink and green and gold that she’d bought from the hotel boutique. They would work for tomorrow’s meeting with Luca’s gala committee, but it wasn’t a formal enough outfit for dining with a king.
She debated between the two tea dresses in the closet. One was a pale rose, the other a midnight blue. Both were exceedingly good quality, elegant and pretty, but so demure as to bore her into a coma while looking at them. That pastel pink with the long sleeves would make her skin look sallow, and its sweetheart neckline would have her begging for an insulin shot.