Royally Roma

by Teri Wilson

  There was comfort to be found in such adoration, atonement in the giving and receiving of pleasure. And even though he knew he had no right to seek such solace, he had to make love to her. Now. He’d moved beyond the ability to decide.

  She’d shared herself with him, and he’d shared himself in return. He’d said things to her that he’d never said to anyone before. He didn’t even know why, other than the fact that he wanted to be real with her. She might not know his name, but she knew the real him. The Niccolo La Torre that no one else knew. There was more to him than a crown and a picture on the cover of a magazine. Somehow, some way, this stranger who’d stumbled into his life purely by chance actually saw him.

  Making love to her was no longer a choice. It was a raw, aching need. He needed to penetrate her pain, her past, and her present. Doing so was the only way he would find peace.

  The future would never be theirs. But there was a world inside this woman. A world beyond Lazaretto, beyond Rome. A world where he could lose himself.

  A world where she could be his.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  EIGHTEEN

  “Niccolo,” Julia murmured, moving to sit astride him, nearly fainting with desire when she felt the press of his erection against her center through the whisper-thin barrier of the bedsheets.

  She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be sliding her hands into his hair, clutching him to her breasts. She shouldn’t be imagining what it would feel like to have him moving inside her. She most definitely shouldn’t be hearing the things he was saying. Things about his family that she had no business knowing, especially now that she was aware of his true identity.

  She remembered when his mother had died, her elegant image on the covers of all the magazines. She remembered the sea of flowers.

  She needed to tell him that she knew who he was. Now, before things went too far.

  “Wait,” she breathed, even as his hands slid over her hips to cradle her bottom and press her more firmly against him.

  She could feel everything, see everything. And this first glorious glimpse of him, naked and hard—hard for her—was too much to bear. Desire flooded her every nerve. She was drunk with it. Drunk with wanting. So much so that her head spun.

  A shiver coursed through her, and she pleaded again, “Wait.”

  But it was the weakest of protests. She knew it, and so did he. She was too far gone, too inflamed with need to even remember why they needed to wait.

  “No more waiting,” he growled, lifting her nightie over her head and tossing it aside. It landed on the floor in a seductive puddle of discarded silk.

  Niccolo’s hands moved up her thighs, leaving a delicious trail of tingles in their wake. She began to tremble and shake, mesmerized by the sight of his fingertips moving closer and closer to her core.

  She strained to slow the quickening of her breath. “But I need . . .” I need to tell you something. I know. I know who you are.

  “This is what you need, isn’t it, darling?” he whispered against her lips, kissing her as he pushed his fingers inside her, thrusting gently in and out.

  And yes, oh yes, that was exactly what she needed. She needed the honeyed touch of his devotion.

  Her precarious balance began to slip, and she felt herself start to fall over the edge. What was it about him that made her act this way? When he kissed her, when he touched her, she became someone else. The carefully crafted walls she’d built around her heart crumbled to the ground. All her defenses slipped away. And what was revealed was a woman that she hadn’t even known existed. If she’d been watching, she wouldn’t have even recognized herself. Who was this stranger he’d liberated with the audacity of his desire? The real her.

  Decadent.

  Wild.

  Vulnerable.

  Even her body seemed different. All he had to do was look at her, and her nerves lit with fire, and her body moved in ways it had never moved before. The way he looked at her, she’d never felt more beautiful. Surely even the Roman goddesses had never been so desired.

  “Oh, Julia,” he said in a voice so wistful it made her heart hurt. “Do you have any idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you like this? How absolutely ravishing you look right now?”

  She smiled down at him, glowing from the inside out. “I love pleasing you.”

  She wanted to see him come apart as she’d done the night before. She wanted to hear him cry her name and empty himself inside her. She’d never wanted anything, or anyone, as much.

  Her breath came faster and faster. She was losing what little control she still had over herself. Without even making a conscious decision to do so, she began stroking him. A low sound of masculine pleasure escaped him, and she thought it was maybe the loveliest sound she’d ever heard. Like music. A sensual symphony.

  Wait . . . wait . . . wait.

  This wasn’t right. She couldn’t go through with this without telling him what she knew. But everything was happening so fast. She wasn’t capable of stopping. They’d gone too far. What they’d begun the night before refused to be ignored. They were on the verge of finishing what they’d started. And even though she knew it was wrong, Julia couldn’t seem to stop what was happening.

  She was lost in a whirl of sensation and blinding light. Every touch bathed her in white-hot heat, pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

  She was desperate for him. The promise of release had gathered so tightly in her core that she didn’t think she could wait another second.

  And then he took hold of her wrist and used her own grip to guide him to her entrance. He pushed inside her ever so slowly, whispering soothing words, giving her time to adjust. But no amount of time could have prepared her for the exquisite perfection of being filled. At last. She felt as if she’d been waiting for this—for him—her entire life.

  His eyes met hers, and neither one of them moved. She just wanted to hold him inside, to freeze time so it would always be like this.

  A world of silent communication passed between them, all the words they could never say. In the eloquence of their stillness, Julia felt like she could see inside his soul. And what she saw was beautiful beyond her wildest imaginings.

  She began to rock against him, like the brazen siren she’d become. An enchantress created by their mutual desire. His hands slid to the small of her back, holding her in place, guiding her movements and controlling the pace, forcing her to slow down, to make it last. The more she moved, the more luminous she felt, until her core became filled with stardust. There was a galaxy inside her. Another world, where he was king and she was his queen.

  “Let go,” he whispered. “It’s time. Come with me.”

  He took hold of her hips and thrust deeper, deeper, until she couldn’t help but cry out. Then her body began to move of its own accord, riding him, rising and lowering to meet him. His expression turned strained, almost tortured. At first she thought he was merely holding back, but the way he watched her, never taking his eyes off her, made her wonder if he was simply trying to capture the moment in memory as she was.

  She wanted to remember. She wanted to remember the thrill of his hands buried in her hair, the wonder in his gaze as he watched her move over him, the ecstasy of holding him inside. She wanted to remember everything.

  He leaned forward to kiss her, and he tightened his grip on her hair, winding it around his fist until she had no choice but to tip her head back. And that was all it took to push her over the edge. She cried out and shattered around him in an explosion of stars. He stiffened beneath her and with one, final thrust, he fell along with her. His powerful arms wrapped round her tight, and their hearts crashed against one another. His and hers. Indistinguishable.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Julia heard the distant echo of Chiara’s words.

  He’s a prince. He’s not like you and me.


  It’s always open season on royalty, Julia. Always.

  It didn’t matter. None of it. He could have been a prince or a street beggar for all she cared. She couldn’t hurt him, even if he’d lied and even if he never paid her the money he owed.

  She was in love with him.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked as he stroked her hair and held her close, both of them still trembling with the aftershocks of their mutual climax.

  Do I love him? Do I really?

  Of course she didn’t. The very idea was absurd. People didn’t fall in love over the course of a weekend. A weekend wasn’t even long enough to get to know a person. She couldn’t possibly be in love.

  It was out of the question.

  Wasn’t it?

  He kissed her hair and said in a gravelly whisper, “Mi manchi, il tesoro.”

  I miss you, my darling.

  It was happening already. He hadn’t even left yet, and already the loss had begun to settle over them. He was already gone. She wanted to cry.

  Oh no, it’s true. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. I do love him. I do.

  She couldn’t tell him, of course. He would think she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. He’d already made it more than clear that they would never see each other again. They would never kiss again or touch each other. After this morning, she would only ever see him from afar. An image on her television screen. A handsome face on the cover of magazines.

  He would go back to his palace, and she would stay here. Alone. She would stay here and love him the only way she could—by keeping his secrets.

  * * *

  NICCOLO’S PULSE WAS STILL galloping. His hands were still buried in Julia’s hair. Her lissome legs were still wrapped around him when he heard it. A knock on the door.

  She went still as stone in his arms.

  “Julia,” he whispered. “It’s time.”

  She untangled herself from his embrace and gave him a hollow smile. “Yes, of course.”

  What had he done? This had been a mistake of the highest order. An unprecedented lapse in judgment.

  Knock, knock, knock. Again. Louder this time. Loud enough to rouse Valentina, who leaped from her dog bed and charged to the door in a fit of frenzied barking and flying fur. Piero was probably on the other side imagining a beast of epic proportions.

  “I’ll be right there,” Julia called, rummaging through her drawers for clothes, slipping a simple black sweater over her head.

  Niccolo would have liked to watch her dress slowly. To see the fabric fall in languid folds over her alabaster curves. A reverse striptease. But he couldn’t. Time had run out. His holiday had ended with the knock at the door.

  He slipped back into his clothes as quickly as he could. His suit was a wrinkled mess. The smell of damp cashmere clung to him. He could only hope to somehow avoid being photographed when he returned to the hotel. Having his royal walk of shame captured on film would be wholly unacceptable.

  “Ready?” he asked Julia as he straightened the knot in his tie.

  She nodded, and the shell-shocked expression on her face nearly killed him.

  He strode to the door and opened it, completely forgetting Julia’s many warnings about the ferocity of her harmless-looking dog. He watched in disbelief as Valentina launched herself at Piero and latched onto the hem of his trousers with her teeth.

  “Oh dear God.” Piero’s face went white. He flung his leg about to no avail. Undaunted, Valentina growled, snarled, and clamped her tiny jaws even tighter. “Ouch!”

  Niccolo blinked, stunned. “Did she bite you?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s got a rather good grip on my ankle, I’m afraid.” Beads of perspiration broke out on Piero’s forehead.

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” Julia rushed to the doorway. “She’s not fond of men.”

  “That appears to be an understatement,” the accosted Piero said through gritted teeth.

  “I’ve got her.” Niccolo bent to unlatch Valentina from his secretary’s leg. The moment he gathered the little dog in his arms, she went limp. Putty in his hands.

  Piero frowned and stepped inside, giving Niccolo and Valentina a wide berth. “It seems she’s a little less fond of some men than others.”

  Julia flashed him a smirk and a look that clearly said I told you so.

  Niccolo cleared his throat. “Piero, may I introduce Miss Julia Costa. Julia, this is Piero, my private secretary.”

  They hadn’t technically met at Café Rocha, after all.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Julia said. “Can I help you with your things?” She reached for Piero’s briefcase.

  “No, thank you, Miss Costa.” Piero shook his head, and an uncomfortable silence followed.

  Niccolo would have preferred his secretary to have been more solicitous to Julia. Or at the very least, kind. Maybe it was expecting too much for his kidnapper mistress and his valet to get along.

  “I’ve done everything you requested, sir. I’ve also taken the liberty of bringing you a change of clothes, as you have a press conference scheduled to begin in half an hour.” Piero gestured toward the Enzo D’Orsi garment bag that was slung over his arm. “Where would you like me to put them?”

  Niccolo reached for it, but Piero took a cautionary step backward, away from the vicious jaws of Valentina.

  “Here, let me help.” Julia lifted the dog from Niccolo’s arms. “I’ll take Valentina for a quick walk while you get changed. I’m sure she needs a little trip outside anyway.”

  “Very well.” Piero nodded.

  Niccolo gave him a commanding glare.

  “Ah, pardon me, Miss,” the secretary stammered. “If you would allow me, I’d be happy to walk the dog for you.” He glanced at Valentina and frowned. “Little Valentina, is it?”

  Julia blinked, and her gaze flitted back and forth between Niccolo and Piero. She was clearly unaccustomed to being catered to. Niccolo would have liked the opportunity to change that. Then again, he would have liked a lot of forbidden things.

  “Don’t be silly.” Julia smiled at Piero. “There’s been enough bloodshed already, don’t you think? Thank you, though.”

  “As you wish, Miss Costa,” Piero said, again without the barest hint of a smile.

  Julia clipped a red patent leather leash onto Valentina’s collar and led her outside. Niccolo felt her absence at once, like an open wound in the dead center of his chest. He’d known leaving was going to be painful. He’d had ample opportunities to walk away from her the day before. Each time, he’d been unable to do so.

  Now time had run out. His holiday was over.

  “Your Highness, sir,” Piero said. It felt odd to be addressed in such a manner again. Niccolo hadn’t missed the titles or the formality in the slightest. He hadn’t felt regal when he was in Julia’s bed. He’d felt better. For once, he’d actually felt human. “Have you any idea who this woman is?”

  Niccolo unzipped the garment bag and laid it down on the unmade bed, his gaze snagging on the tangled sheets and the place where their bodies had been intertwined only moments ago. “Piero, it was my decision to disappear for the day. Miss Costa is innocent in all of this.”

  “Are you quite sure about that, sir?”

  Niccolo shed his shirt and tie and threw them both on the bed with too much force. He didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Perhaps you should remember your place, Piero.”

  It really wasn’t like him to overstep. Today, of all days, wasn’t a good time to start.

  “I apologize, sir. It’s just that when you gave me Miss Costa’s address last night, I felt I should investigate.”

  Niccolo’s hands paused, his fresh shirt only halfway buttoned. “You or the army my grandfather sent here?”

  “Just me, Your Royal Highness.” Piero inhaled a deep brea
th. “Although there are indeed two security officers outside.”

  “Of course there are.” It was astounding how everything could change in the span of five minutes. “Are you telling me that a background check has been conducted on Miss Costa?”

  “Not an official one.” Piero shook his head. “No.”

  “Do not mince words with me. Was there or was there not a background check conducted on Miss Costa?”

  He wasn’t sure why he found the idea so repugnant. If she’d come to Lazaretto to visit the palace, or even if she’d been invited to his quarters at the Hotel de Russie, she would have been subject to a thorough vetting. It was standard procedure for anyone in his world. Necessary for both his personal security and that of his country.

  But she hadn’t come into his world. He’d come into hers.

  “Sir, I assure you. It was nothing formal. The security office was in no way involved. They followed me here this morning, that’s all. They don’t even know why I’m here. I followed your instructions to the letter. I simply performed a basic Google search.”

  Piero and that damned iPad of his.

  “A colossal waste of time, I’m sure.” Niccolo had to crouch down to get a proper glimpse of himself in the small mirror above Julia’s dresser. He arranged the tie that Piero had delivered in a quick Windsor knot.

  Just as he moved to turn his back on his reflection, his gaze fixed with Piero’s in the mirror. The uneasy look on his secretary’s face alarmed Niccolo more than any of the concerns he’d voiced thus far.

  Something was wrong.

  He turned around. “Piero.”

  Piero’s gaze dropped to the floor.

  “If there’s something you need to tell me, I urge you to do so before Miss Costa returns. Although, I cannot imagine what that could possibly be. She has no idea who I am. She’s completely harmless.” Niccolo wished he didn’t feel the need to repeat himself in this regard. Who was he trying to convince?