And she couldn’t resist. Her lips parted and his wicked tongue stroked deep. She almost moaned. But at the moment of surrender he drew back and looked down at her, his eyes hooded, his jaw set.
‘Sign the document, Stella,’ he said bluntly, his voice rising in volume.
The fire in his eyes was anger at her questions, not desire or jealousy or possessiveness. But all three of those things she felt. And the worst thing was that she was turned on—by the kiss, by the demand.
So stupid.
‘Sign it so we can get back to better things,’ he added.
The blatantly sensual implication stole her breath. Heat burned her cheeks when she saw him turn to glance arrogantly at Matteo.
Claiming territorial rights, much?
She straightened in her seat, pulling the neatly typed document closer. It was all very well planned, so nothing could be left in any doubt.
‘Ms Zambrano...’ Matteo spoke formally. ‘I know prenuptial contracts can seem discomfiting, but I’m here more as your representative than the Prince’s. He is well qualified to safeguard his own interests. So please be assured that this is a very generous offer.’
He was Eduardo’s friend; they’d been law students together, so he was on Eduardo’s side. And she didn’t want any kind of ‘generous offer’. She didn’t want a wedding. She didn’t want to go into this knowing they were going to fail. Here they were preparing for that very eventuality. But she didn’t know what it was she did want.
The impossible? The fairy tale? Such things never happened in real life.
Eduardo was trying to protect their future. Reluctantly she appreciated his integrity, but it irritated her at the same time that he could be so coolly rational about this nightmare. Clearly he wasn’t thrown by their sexual chemistry the way she was.
It might be ungrateful, but something in her made her want to fight. A lifetime of training, she supposed. But if she tried to argue some more in front of the lawyer Eduardo would only get angrier and more determined. It might be better to sign now and fight when they were alone.
She picked up the gleaming fountain pen and made a scratchy mess of her signature.
‘May I offer my congratulations?’ Matteo gathered up the documents and put them into his briefcase.
‘You may offer your hasty departure, my friend.’ Eduardo escorted Matteo to the door. ‘And your absolute discretion.’
‘You don’t need to tell me again.’ Matteo turned and offered a small bow to Stella. ‘It was an honour to meet you, Ms Zambrano.’
The ease of Eduardo’s falsity alarmed her. Was he so well practised at presenting a façade and lying, even to his friends?
Restlessly she stood and walked the length of a bookcase, vaguely noticing the piles of personal papers and small ornaments tucked into the recesses amongst the leather-bound masterpieces.
‘You don’t trust me,’ she said when the door had closed. Did he honestly think she would betray him?
‘I don’t know you,’ Eduardo answered lightly, walking back towards her.
‘Then get to know me.’ She would never sell her story to the press. She was loyal to the core and deeply private.
‘I intend to.’ He smiled that wolfish smile. ‘Intimately.’
Of course he’d reduce this to sex. Sex was so easy for him. She’d been so easy for him. Too late she realised the ramifications weren’t as easy for her to handle.
‘Do I get to do the same?’ she questioned. ‘Do I get to know you beyond “intimately”?’
His withdrawal was palpable. The easygoing façade fell in a blink, revealing a tense distance. And it wasn’t just the smile that he dropped, but the warmth. That ruthlessness was exposed once more, making her realise just what a stranger to her he was.
‘Of course.’
She ran her fingers over a smooth jet-black glass sculpture that stood on a low table. ‘So you studied law?’
‘For a couple of years, yes.’ He turned away from her, choosing to sit at the table.
‘Contracts and business and wheeling and dealing?’ Like his sharp-suited friend?
‘I preferred evidence—criminal law.’ Another bare minimum answer.
‘You wanted to be a courtroom lawyer?’
‘It is impossible for me to work as a lawyer.’
‘But you wanted to be one?’ she pressed, curious about this side of him.
‘We all want things we can’t have.’
‘Not princes.’
He hesitated, then cast a theatrical, mournful look at her. ‘Especially princes.’
He’d slipped back into that ‘Prince Eduardo’ character—all roguish charm.
‘I’m not about to feel sorry for you,’ she said.
‘Good. You’re not marrying me out of pity, then.’
‘I’m not marrying you for your money either,’ she said, deadly serious.
‘You can give it all away if you like.’ He shrugged carelessly. ‘Return to your room now. You have more preparations to attend to.’
‘Seriously?’ He was dismissing her? Just like that?
‘Yes.’ He looked unapologetic. ‘Things to do, Stella.’
‘Of course—your princely time is so precious.’
Stella walked back to her room, all senses on alert when she found her door was open. An older woman waited in the centre of the room alongside a wardrobe rack on wheels—the kind models had on fashion shoots.
‘Miss Zambrano?’
‘Yes.’ Stella just stopped and stared.
‘My name is Giulia. I’m here to help you dress tomorrow.’
Dress? Eduardo had been serious about her choosing a wedding dress? Given that the clothes rail was filled with dresses, it seemed he had.
‘They are yours to try on. Choose your favourite and I will alter it as necessary.’ The woman bent her head and smiled shyly. ‘Any would look good on you.’
‘Where did these come from?’ Stella gazed along the rail, too scared to touch even though each creation was wrapped in protective plastic.
Seven dresses. All different styles. All obviously expensive.
‘They were flown in from Paris and Milan.’
Stella read each carefully pinned label. High-fashion houses every one of them. Italian. French. American.
She’d never been a dress-up girl. Except for that one time she’d dressed up in her father’s uniform. His fury had made her all the more determined to earn one of her own—to be better than the son he’d wanted and never got. Only her father had sent her away to school on the other side of the world. Out of sight, out of mind.
‘Allow me to show you each dress.’ Giulia suddenly took charge. ‘I realise it can be difficult to make a decision when they are all so exquisite.’
Enraptured by the yards of silk, satin and lace, Giulia took a good twenty minutes showing and explaining the unique features of each.
‘Have you worked for Eduardo long?’ Stella asked when the servant had hung the last dress back on the rack.
Giulia’s eyes clouded and she retreated back behind her quiet reserve. ‘A number of years.’
‘I bet you didn’t think he’d ever marry.’ Stella tried to smile, as if joking. ‘He’s “the untameable prince”, right?’ She used the media’s favourite description of him.
‘It has long been expected that Eduardo will marry. Both he and Antonio deserve happy marriages.’ Giulia stood haughtily.
‘Which do you think he’d like?’ Stella stopped trying to smile and stared at the dresses. It wasn’t that she wanted to please him, but it was clear that Giulia did.
Giulia glanced briefly at Stella, then moved to the last dress she’d held up. A tumble of soft, pretty silk with embroidered flowers trailing down the edges. The flowers gave
just a trace of colour to the dress and reminded her of spring.
Stella held up her hands and shook her head. ‘It’s too fussy, with all that detail.’
‘It is modest, yet modern. You should try it.’
Well, she had to start somewhere. Self-consciously Stella stripped to her underwear and stepped into the beautiful dress, holding still so Giulia could fasten it.
Five minutes later she stared at herself in the mirror, trying not to let her shock show on her face. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t worn a dress before—she just didn’t do it that often—and this dress...
‘You’re sure it’s okay?’ She swung to face Giulia.
‘Are you comfortable in it?’ Undeniably smug, Giulia was smiling.
‘Yes.’ Stella realised she was more than comfortable. Who knew that putting on a dress could make her feel different? Brave. Beautiful. It was like a costume in which she’d play a part. Or a uniform. Armour.
‘Then it is the one.’ Giulia made small adjustments to the waist and the hem and pinned them.
‘That was easy.’
‘When you know, you know. It is the same when choosing a groom, si?’ Giulia suddenly chuckled softly. ‘I will bring you a dinner tray now. Then you should rest. You have a big day tomorrow.’
Stella paused. ‘I’m not dining with Eduardo?’
‘He has business to attend to.’
The little pleasure Stella had felt at discovering the dress disappeared. Now, left alone in the room with the other possible wedding dresses, the full horror of it sank into her bones.
Any dress would have done, right? As would any bride. Rumour had it the upcoming autumn ball was to have been a ‘find a bride’ event in disguise, for the pair of princes. Eduardo didn’t want to marry, but was ‘expected’ to. In other words, at some point he had to. And look what fate had so conveniently provided. A pregnant lover.
Not desired. Not loved. Merely convenient.
Stella rubbed her chilled arms. Could she really go through with this mockery? Even if it was only temporary? Or did she not want to because it was only temporary?
Her heart skipped faster as her thoughts veered too close to the uncomfortable. She knew her parents had loved each other. She’d seen it in the pictures her father had hidden away because they hurt him too much. He’d withdrawn into his work.
At the thought of her mother, fear unfurled.
Impatiently she walked over to the fresh tray that had been delivered to her room. She forced herself to eat, even though she couldn’t be less hungry. Not because Eduardo had told her to, but because the child within her needed sustenance. Stella had to stay strong and healthy. She couldn’t let her child down. She couldn’t make her mum’s mistake.
She ate quickly, quietly, alone. How many times in her life had she eaten with no one to talk to? No companionship. No support. Just a few bites of food—fuel and nothing more.
He has business to attend to.
Was her future to be an echo of her past? Would they share carefully scheduled meetings at mealtimes in which they’d swap shallow pleasantries and stilted conversation?
It would be just like the relationship she had with her father. Work had always come first for him. Clearly it was the same for Eduardo. Fair enough. He was a prince with bigger things to worry about than her fragile ego.
But this was no longer only about her. She didn’t want her child to suffer the way she had.
She forced a few more mouthfuls down and then gave up on the effort. She’d finally realised the full import of this crazy day.
What was best for this baby wasn’t what Eduardo thought. He meant well, but marriage wasn’t necessary. No one ever need know it was his baby. She could rear the child in private and they could all be free to be happy.
Resolve firming, she left her room and swiftly walked along the sumptuous corridors back to the library. It was empty, but in the distance she heard a regular splashing sound.
Business to attend to, huh?
She went out through one of the French doors to the terrace and walked the length of the building, then turned the corner to find a private lap pool. She crept closer, pausing beside a tall column. Wicker chairs covered in plump, pure white cushions sat at angles to each other, but she didn’t take a seat. She couldn’t take her eyes from the strong figure gliding smoothly through the aquamarine water. She watched him complete several lengths, executing perfect tumble turns at each end, easily maintaining that scorching pace.
But halfway through the next length he suddenly stopped and stood. Droplets of water cascaded down his broad shoulders. ‘How long are you going to stand in the shadows watching me?’
He had good eyesight, then. So did she. And right now he looked incredibly athletic. Fit, strong, built.
‘I want to talk to you,’ she said, glad that dusk was darkening the sky and half-hiding the blush she knew was covering every inch of her body.
He levered himself out of the pool in one smooth movement and stood before her. ‘So talk.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re...naked.’ And she was no longer blushing—she was burning.
‘It is my pool.’ He shrugged. ‘My staff know not to bother me.’
‘I’m not staff.’ That was precisely the point she needed to make. She wasn’t going to be ordered about and dismissed. She’d damn well bother him when she wanted to.
He inclined his head. ‘I was not expecting company.’
‘You want to make yourself decent?’ Desperately she glanced around for a towel, to stop herself staring at him like a lust-struck, hormone-drunk wanton.
‘Am I not already?’ He sent her an ironic glance. ‘You were naked before and not embarrassed. I’m not embarrassed by you seeing me. In fact, I quite like it.’
CHAPTER SIX
EDUARDO WAS TEASING the tiger. He shouldn’t. He was too close to losing control. But he couldn’t resist.
He wasn’t going to like what she’d come to say. He could read it in her diamond-bright eyes and firm-held mouth. On the plus side, he relished the fact that his nudity had shot her concentration. That made them even.
He didn’t want to fight. He was mentally worn out from the day’s revelations and resulting requirements, and he absolutely shouldn’t have kissed her before because it was all he could think about now.
He’d spent hours organising every damn detail and all he wanted now was for the next few to pass quickly so he could complete his plan. Then he could have her—how he wanted, where he wanted. All would work out. It had to.
‘You really are the most arrogant pri—’ she growled in a low, rusty voice.
‘Arrogant prince—yes.’ He readily admitted it. ‘We’re born that way.’ He reached past her for a towel, letting his hand brush her denim-clad thigh. ‘Now, tell me the problem—cold feet?’
‘I’m not marrying you tomorrow.’
He wrapped the towel round his waist and then just looked at her.
She stared back, obviously waiting for a reply, but he’d learned a few tricks from his ice-cold brother. When the silence grew too much for her to bear—as he had known it would—she started talking.
‘It’s a bad idea. You know it’s not necessary.’
He remained unmoved.
‘I can go away and take care of the baby. We don’t need to do this.’
She was so wrong.
‘You don’t need me?’ Anger clouded his vision. ‘What can you give this child alone?’ he asked, determined to remain calm. ‘You would travel to some distant place, put the child in daycare for all hours while you work to feed and shelter it?’
‘How is that worse than an army of nannies and a distant father the child will see for five minutes a day if it’s lucky?’
‘Why assume I’ll be a dista
nt father?’
Her eyes flashed with disbelief.
His anger roiled at her rejection. Why did she judge him so harshly? She had no reason to, and yet she hadn’t given him a chance. Not once. Right from the beginning she’d kept the most important things from him. She hadn’t told him her name, hadn’t told him she was a virgin. She’d used him, then left him hanging. And then she hadn’t even told him she was expecting. Instead she’d tried to flee. Did she think that little of him?
‘You would deny your child’s birthright?’
‘You would ensure he or she missed out on nothing.’ Anger flushed her cheeks.
‘So...’ He nodded bitterly. ‘You only want cash from me.’
‘This isn’t about me or what I want.’ She glared at him.
‘The hell it isn’t.’ It damn well was about her. And him. And this insane pull they shared. She didn’t like it. Well, nor did he. But they were both going to have to get over it. This time he was getting it right.
‘This is about what’s best for our baby. Think about it.’ She switched to a calm tone that made him suspicious. ‘Together we can arrange for this child to have a quiet, happy life out of the spotlight. He or she wouldn’t suffer the burden of royal expectation or protocol. No duty to fulfil. No desire to be denied.’
Oh, she was smart—picking up on the smallest hint of discomfort within him and using it to bolster her argument. The fact that she was so astute invigorated him. But that she could so easily dismiss the idea that he might have anything more than money to offer burned.
‘But it could never be kept secret. Would you be happy to play the role of unmarried mother?’ he growled back, his temper slipping his hold because her words had struck hard. ‘Of fallen woman?’
‘This is the twenty-first century—children are born out of wedlock all the time. Kids grow up in sole-parent households all over the world—’
‘Not in the De Santis family,’ he interrupted harshly. ‘Honour above all else.’ He captured her hand in a hard grip and pulled her closer. He clamped his other arm around her. It felt damn good to touch her—even if she was spitting fire.
The Secret That Shocked De Santis Page 8