The Mistress That Tamed De Santis

by Natalie Anderson

  From her seat on the mezzanine floor she saw him identify her bar manager. She immediately rose, discreetly radioing for that manager to escort the aide to the small private office at the back of the bar. She went down via the curling steps in the main dance space, taking her time to smile with some of her guests so no one could suspect how on edge she’d suddenly become. There were too many people and every single one of them had a smart phone with a camera app.

  After another few minutes working her way past the bar, she entered the small private room. He stood waiting in the middle of it.

  ‘Ms Sanchez, my name is Matteo. I am Prince Antonio’s assistant.’ He half bowed as soon as she’d closed the door behind her. ‘The Prince requests your company.’ He held a thick white envelope out to her.

  Her name was on the front, inked in a scrawling hand and underlined with a couple of heavy pressed lines that suggested urgency. Demand.

  Bella.

  Her blood ran faster. She could hear his voice, whispering her name as he touched her, devastating her defences until she’d melted in his arms. But he wasn’t here now. He’d sent a messenger in the middle of the night. Had he even written her name himself?

  ‘He requests my company right now?’ she asked Matteo carefully.

  ‘Apparently an issue has arisen,’ Matteo answered, still offering the envelope.

  Bella stared, unable to be sure that she’d heard innuendo in his tone or not, but his face was a blank mask. He’d learned from his master well.

  ‘And this issue can’t wait until morning?’ she asked.

  ‘If you would take the envelope, Ms Sanchez.’

  She took it from him and turned it over, breaking the seal on the back. She drew out the single thick card and, with a cool glance at Matteo, turned away to read the note. But the card bore only two lines of that harsh writing.

  We need to talk.

  The bald statement was followed by a number and an address—she recognised it as an apartment building near her club and her pulse was not accelerating, but her breathing quickened. Her nerves tightened.

  ‘I will escort you there now,’ Matteo said, as if he were offering her the greatest service ever.

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ She put the card back into the envelope with care. ‘I can’t go there now.’

  The surprise that flashed on his face gave her an inordinate sense of satisfaction.

  ‘Prince Antonio requests your company,’ Matteo repeated.

  ‘So you said,’ she answered, determined to stay cool. ‘And I will get there when I can.’

  ‘You don’t understand—’

  ‘I understand perfectly.’ She smiled at him though her mouth felt dry as dust. ‘You’re the one who doesn’t understand and nor does he, obviously. I have a business to run. So you can tell him that I’ll get there if and when I can.’

  Matteo didn’t reply but she wasn’t bothered by his scrutiny. She wasn’t afraid of him. But she was wary of how Antonio made her feel—and how much she wanted him.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my guests.’ She clutched the envelope and left him to find his own way out.

  But she didn’t return to her guests. She climbed all the way to her own tiny apartment at the top. She put the card on her desk—the one he’d kissed her on—and stared at it.

  Was this how a prince made a booty call? With just her name, an address and a lame ‘we need to talk’? Did he do this all the time? Send his aide to set up shag-a-thons for him in a private apartment in town so no one would ever know?

  So much for the myth of heartbroken, isolated Prince Antonio. Turned out the supposedly heroic, self-sacrificing Prince of the People had feet of clay. He just wanted it like any other guy. On the side when it convenienced him.

  She was livid. And she was ignoring him.

  She went back down to the dance floor. She wasn’t going to drop everything at his beck and call. But she couldn’t concentrate properly. Time crawled. It felt like hours until four a.m. finally struck—yet it was only forty-five minutes since Matteo had left.

  It was another hour before her staff had gone and she’d locked up and could shower. The cascading hot water didn’t ease her tension any. Sleep wasn’t happening. So she dressed in skinny jeans, a light tee and ballet flats on her feet.

  It was five-thirty in the morning when she finally made her move. She’d go and see him and tell him to his face.

  No.

  She wouldn’t be his latest secret lover.

  She walked out of the side door, ensuring the alarm was enabled, and saw Matteo leaning against the doorway of the building opposite. He crossed the street to where she stood.

  ‘I will escort you there now,’ he said.

  ‘Have you been waiting here all this time?’

  He nodded and turned in the direction of the apartment.

  ‘You don’t need to—’ She started to argue but realised the poor man was only following orders. She was better to save her fight for facing Antonio. She started walking, pretending not to care that Matteo remained a half pace behind her the entire way. Clearly he was used to doing this kind of errand for his boss.

  Fury pushed her faster.

  At the apartment building the security guard wordlessly opened the door, not looking Bella in the eye. Matteo stepped in front and led her to the elevator.

  Yeah, he’d definitely done this many times before.

  He entered the lift only long enough to punch in a code at the keypad. It whooshed up swiftly, leaving her feeling as if her stomach were still on the ground. Ruefully she reckoned her brain was back at her club.

  When the elevator stopped on the top floor she stepped out. The heavy door on the small landing was open. Antonio stood, resting a shoulder against the frame, staring at her. He still wore the jet-black tux, the jacket immaculate and tie neatly fastened; only the hint of shadow on his chiselled jaw gave away the passage of time—that and his glare. Serious, handsome, smouldering, he said so much in silence.

  Too bad. She lifted her chin, because his rejection still hurt. ‘You summoned. I came.’

  She walked past him into the apartment, commanding the centre space.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Years of training stood her in good stead; she knew how to fake confidence ’til she made it.

  * * *

  Antonio quietly closed the door, taking a moment to temper his response. She’d kept him waiting, he’d had zero sleep, and he didn’t have the patience for endless debating. This was one situation in which action would speak louder than words.

  But he needed the words because they meant he’d retain control. Of himself, of what was to happen, of how this would end.

  And he wanted to hear her speak too. He liked her challenging edge, as if she wasn’t going to agree to everything he had to say. At least, not immediately.

  ‘Would you like to sit down?’ He gestured to the plush armchair rather than the wide sofa. Enforcing social niceties at this moment would help keep him civilised.

  ‘I’m not going to jump just because you said to.’

  Her reply shredded the remnants of all polite pretence, exposing the sensual tension. Combustion was a breath away.

  He gave up on civility and crossed the room to tower over her. ‘And yet here you are.’

  He’d known sending Matteo had been a mistake. His brother Eduardo had relied on Matteo for his discretion and reliability. Antonio had never had cause to before and should’ve known it would be better to do a job himself. He should’ve waited until later and gone to her club alone. Yet he liked this look in her eyes—baleful anger bubbling over sensual awareness.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ she repeated unevenly. ‘You want me to dance for you?’ She rolled her shoulders and took a half-step to the side.

  It was barely a dance, more a suggestive movement, but Antonio was unable to answer. Another emotion entered her eye—determination, then calculation.

  She moved ever s
o slightly while her gaze remained locked on his. There wasn’t the freedom he’d seen when she’d not known he was watching her alone in the club. She looked every bit as beautiful, but he saw her self-awareness, her moves made for their intended effect on her audience.

  On him.

  ‘No,’ he snapped.

  Instantly she stopped. Her sultry mask fell, revealing her anger in full, making her all the more stunning.

  ‘Not like that,’ he added. ‘I don’t want to watch. I don’t want a performance from you.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’ she flared. ‘To humiliate me again?’

  ‘Humiliate you?’ His own anger ignited. He’d never intended to do that and he was furious he had. He grabbed her hips and hauled her against him. ‘I want what we had. I want the real thing.’

  He crushed her mouth under his, unable to contain himself a second longer. Energy radiated from her—resistance, anger, but most of all desire. In the next moment she melted, opening, pressing closer. Then she kissed him back—hard.

  This was what he wanted. Her unrestrained reaction to him—negative and positive and the total eroticism that burst to life the second they touched. All the resistance within her transformed to passion. She burrowed closer, angrily clutching his jacket.

  He lost his head in her heat. He ached to rip them free of their clothing. Have her exactly as he wanted—bared and welcoming with that fire-gilded hair tumbling free about her shoulders and her body hot and slick.

  But he pulled away, brutally breaking the kiss because he had to put restraints around this. And he was damn well ensuring she had more than a quick, angry orgasm this time. He’d see her fully sated. Fully his.

  Breathing hard, he held her at a distance, taking primitive pleasure in how long it took for her to regain her balance and stand on her own.

  ‘This cannot go on.’ He’d give in to lust, but only once.

  ‘What?’ she asked. Fury combusting, she shoved his hands from her shoulders.

  ‘It only worsens with time,’ he said quickly, before she continued to think he didn’t want to resolve this in a way they’d both appreciate. He could hardly bear to look at the luminescent need in her gleaming green eyes; he couldn’t resist her ferocity. ‘We have to work this out.’

  It had only been a few days, but Bella knew what he meant. The hunger, desire, and the frustration. The emotions he roused in her were the most intense of her life.

  ‘So you sent your errand boy to make your booty call.’ It was anger and arousal coursing through her veins now, a heady combination that made it almost impossible to think. She felt too much.

  ‘I didn’t want to attract attention,’ he explained crisply. ‘It wouldn’t be good for either of us.’

  ‘The publicity would be good for me,’ she argued hotly, pushing forward what she knew would be his greatest objection to anything happening between them. Just because she could. ‘Make my club even more popular. I could do with that success.’

  ‘They would drag you through the mud and you know it. Don’t act vapid. I know you care more than that.’

  ‘Do you?’ How could he really know anything about her?

  He cupped her chin and tilted her face to his, capturing her gaze in his steely one again. ‘I saw you. I felt you. You’re more vulnerable than you wish to admit.’

  Ever so lightly he touched the tips of his fingers to the pulse beating frantically just below her jaw. Not a threat, but a caress of concern.

  Her heart stuttered. ‘I don’t need your protection. I can handle anything.’ She jerked her head, forcing him to release her. ‘It’s your name you’re worried about. Having an affair with me would ruin perfect Prince Antonio’s holier-than-thou reputation.’

  ‘I don’t care what others think about me,’ he said softly. ‘But there are other people who would be hurt by my personal life becoming public. Discretion is necessary because it is kind.’

  Silenced, she gazed up at him, her heart melting. He wanted to be kind? He wanted to protect people other than the two of them. She couldn’t help but wonder who they were.

  ‘And you do not want to be hunted any more than you already are.’ His gaze narrowed, penetrating. ‘You do not want to be treated the way your mother was. You do not want to have every detail of your life reported on. Invented. You do not want to have your ex-lovers paid fortunes to tell your sexual secrets. They would stop at nothing to get that information should you be known to be my lover.’

  He hit precisely where she was most vulnerable. She never wanted to live the way her mother had. And yes, while she courted publicity now, it was one thing to manage her own media relations and give them enough to keep them interested but not have them hound her completely. But the way they would pry if they knew she was having an affair with Prince Antonio?

  It would be unbearable.

  ‘Yet you’re still willing to take the risk?’ she asked.

  ‘I am talking only one night.’

  Just once.

  So this would never become an affair. It would be nothing more than a one-night stand. And there wasn’t even much of this night left.

  ‘I don’t want to fight it any more,’ he said ruefully. ‘The last few days have been hell.’

  That he felt as intensely as she did soothed her some.

  ‘No one will ever know,’ he added.

  ‘Except you sent your man to fetch me at three in the morning in a club full of people,’ she pointed out.

  ‘I trust him with my life,’ Antonio said.

  ‘Because he’s done this for you so many times before?’ Maybe that shouldn’t bother her, but it did.

  ‘Never for me,’ Antonio answered solemnly. ‘But I cannot answer for my brother.’

  Relief seeped into her stiffness. Prince Eduardo had been ‘the Playboy Prince’. Of course.

  ‘You do not need a man. A husband. A hero,’ Antonio said quietly continuing his persuasion. ‘You are determined to be independent. I respect that. But you want...’ He paused. ‘I have duty and obligations. I will never marry because I can never give a woman all she deserves. But I, too, want...’

  ‘Do you?’ She was somehow hurt, despite knowing everything that he said was true. ‘But you don’t have lovers. Or is that just the publicity line?’

  ‘It’s not just a line,’ he said quietly.

  She rested her palm on his chest, daring to intrude where she really had no right. Just to see if he could be honest with her. If he could share when only a few days ago he couldn’t share anything. ‘How long?’

  ‘A long, long time. I’ve been busy. After a while it wasn’t something that was important to me.’ A glimmer of laughter suddenly lit his face. ‘But don’t worry, it won’t be over too quickly.’

  His ability to pleasure her was the last thing she was worried about. He’d already given her the best orgasm of her life, and proven his personal restraint at the same time. ‘Why now, why me?’

  That serious, brooding look returned. ‘Because I can’t think of anything but you. Because I’m tired of trying to fight it already. I know it’s the same for you. I come near and your body reacts. You can’t help the way you respond to me.’ Unflinching, he demanded equal honesty from her. ‘Do you have a lover currently?’

  ‘Do you think I would be here if I did?’

  ‘Of course not. I apologise.’ His expression softened. ‘There is more talk about you than actual action.’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘No. But do you think I don’t know how much of the Bella Sanchez “story” is made up?’

  ‘You don’t want to know the truth?’ She straightened, determined to defend her scarlet honour even when really she’d never been that ‘scarlet’.

  ‘I know it already. You give yourself away every time I touch you. Every time I come near you. You react differently to me.’ He put his hands on her waist and drew her closer. ‘You cannot hide how you react to me.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ she said huskil
y. ‘As if you’re all that experienced.’

  He laughed appreciatively. ‘I might be rusty, but I’m not ignorant. And you’re not the sophisticated vamp you try to portray.’

  If this was him ‘rusty’ then heaven help her when he hit his stride.

  He ran his hand up and down her spine, partly soothing, mostly arousing. Every touch seemed designed to torment her.

  ‘The other morning...’ He paused and looked at her with concern. ‘I saw you. I felt you. What happened, how I made you feel...was more than you expected.’

  She flushed, embarrassed that he’d known her orgasm had come as a surprise.

  ‘I want to make you feel that good again.’ Intent darkened his eyes.

  ‘It’s not wise.’ But her body yearned for it.

  ‘Because I made you emotional?’

  ‘You were too.’

  He froze for a moment; his hands stopped those teasing touches. ‘I like being able to make you feel good. And you do want me to kiss you again.’ Deliberately, lightly he rubbed his finger across her lip. ‘And I want to. Everywhere.’ He suddenly pulled her hips against his. Hard. Letting her know exactly where else he intended to use his mouth.

  ‘You always get what you want?’ she asked breathlessly, the feel of his body against hers was so good. The promise in his eyes exquisite torment.

  ‘I’m the Crown Prince—most people are pleased to do things for me.’

  ‘So I should feel honoured?’

  He shook her gently then pulled her to rest against him again. ‘Stop trying to stall and just admit you feel the same.’

  ‘The same?’ She stiffened, trying to hold back the desire threatening to overwhelm her. Did he really feel this as intensely as she? Did he want her the way she wanted him this second?

  ‘I like how good you make me feel,’ he muttered.

  ‘I didn’t do anything. You wouldn’t let me.’ She’d been so hurt by that.

  A wry smile curved his lips. ‘You need me to prove it? Again. Untrusting creature.’