The Italian's Runaway Princess

by Andrea Bolter

  Her heartbeat sped to a rapid thump. In coming here, she’d rebelled against her father, who only wished for her protection. He was probably worried sick. If only he would have been more lenient with her, had let her travel, and had encouraged her to study and explore her curiosities. Or if she’d been more defiant, rather than always placating him. Then maybe she wouldn’t have gone behind his back to take this drastic action most unfitting to her position. He must be in shock after his obedient daughter, who always thought first of pleasing him, had fled the island just weeks before her wedding! Yet she’d never meant to hurt him.

  Absentmindedly, she touched her hair, still surprised by how silky and lightweight it was. Even Gio had complimented her on it today, without knowing why. She’d chosen not to tell Gio about the haircut. Not wanting him to think she’d taken on yet another form of disguise. It occurred to her that with his wealth and status, women left and right must present themselves in ways they think would attract him, whether it was their true selves or not.

  Now she thought of her new hair as just another disappointment for her father. It would grow out. Just like the haircut, this crazy adventure would be a blip on her radar. Once she returned home, she’d take her rightful place. This city, the statue of David, Gio, would become pale remembrances that were completely incongruous with the life she was to lead.

  Perhaps someday she’d return to Florence, to show her children the superlative art or to appear at an official occasion. She’d arrive on a private plane to be met by a limousine, and with bodyguards and palace personnel surrounding her like a butterfly net, she’d be escorted from one building into another. Never breathing fresh air, never strolling the backstreets, never watching children play ball in a park.

  And she’d most certainly never, ever keep company with this fascinating and accomplished man who made her see herself as anything but a sequestered dusty relic on an island that no one cared about.

  “You’re regretting your decision to have sold some of your jewelry?” Gio leaned his head down close to hers as she fixed her gaze on the silver necklace.

  “I don’t know if I should have come here. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “You won’t regret this. It will help you along your path.”

  She looked him in the eye. “Why are you such a wise old sage for a techie?”

  Gio laughed, a resounding guffaw that bounced through her, making her visualize yet again what it would be like to be married to a man with whom she could talk about big concepts and laugh with a dark sense of humor.

  “You’ve learned about me already, bellissima. I have a mind for profound thoughts and no common sense in other matters. Which reminds me, I wanted to ask your opinion about the press statement for our new facility in Dallas.”

  Along the Ponte Vecchio, they chatted about catchphrases and wording. Luciana was grateful she had knowledge about something that was useful to him. Dealing with the media was a valuable thing her father had taught her, to be careful what she said and did because someone was always watching.

  Her arm in Gio’s, they sauntered on. She willed the yearning that rose when her body brushed against him to subside. There was no reason to think Gio had those same stirrings in return. He was not looking for love, and would not accept finding it, either. She sensed he’d been hurt by love, although he never went into any detail about it. That kiss between them had been spontaneous, and it was she who prolonged it. Nothing was going to change between them as a result of it.

  Which was perfectly okay. In fact, it was essential. He could be relied on to keep her growing emotions in check. Because hers were moving into dangerous waters.

  “I really do have to return to the office,” he said, “but I’d like to share with you one other important thing that both locals and tourists do after they’ve been exploring our city’s streets.”

  “What is that?”

  “Let me show you.”

  They reached the opposite end of the Ponte Vecchio. The bridge emptied out to the Oltrarno, the other side of the river, the part of the city that had many historic places to see but was much less touristy.

  Her arm in his, Luciana had a feeling she would follow him anywhere. He took her down one quiet street and then made a right into another and another until she thought they were secret agents outwitting evil foes.

  With this little dash into the Oltrarno, he had brought them far from the crowds, from the doggy dishes with pictures of David on them, and the salt and pepper shakers shaped like the Duomo.

  Finally, they reached their destination. Gelateria dei Frediano.

  “Gelato, Princess. All the problems of the world could be solved with the right gelato.”

  He held the door open for her to enter the shop. The smell of fresh cream immediately took her by storm. Patrons sat on ice cream parlor chairs around small marble tables, giving the place a historic vibe. In fact, there was a sign above the old-fashioned cash register that read Established 1929.

  Luciana eagerly inspected the cold cases that held silver trays of many flavors of gelato in small batches. From the caramel color to the pale green to the chocolate-studded white, each one promised to be more delicious than the next.

  “How could one ever select?” Luciana exclaimed, glancing up to Gio, who had been watching her as she deliberated at the glass cases.

  “Pick several. We’ll have a tasting menu.”

  “They all look delectable. You choose.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat over there?” He pointed to an empty table in the far back of the shop.

  After a few minutes, Gio joined her with a tray of three small silver dishes, all containing scoops of the creamy treat.

  “What did you get?”

  “I’ll let you guess,” Gio said as he sat down and placed the tray on the marble table. “Close your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes so that you can focus only on the taste of the gelato.”

  She was both entranced and horrified at the suggestions that she should close her eyes here in a public place. But she knew that Luci would think it was fun to shut out the distraction of sight so that she could become intoxicated by the flavors. For her sake, Luciana obliged.

  With her eyes closed, she was hyperaware of Gio’s presence next to her. Warmth and strength emanated from his direction.

  Was he going to kiss her?

  After a moment of almost unbearable anticipation, the first thing she sensed was the cold metal of a spoon as it touched her lips. Gio maneuvered the spoon a little bit so that it coaxed her lips to part. “That’s right,” he murmured softly, his voice crawling over her and making her twitch in her seat.

  She felt the first bit of the gelato move from the spoon into her mouth. The pure creaminess coupled with the sweet flavoring made her tongue circle. “Oh,” she moaned after the first of it slid down her throat, “that was so good.”

  “What flavor do you think it was?” he asked but then didn’t give her a chance to respond as he slipped another spoonful of the same flavor between her lips.

  “It tastes like nuts,” she answered in a voice that didn’t even sound like her own. Did Gio know how much he was arousing her with his little game? That as he fed her the ice cream, a secret pulsing was starting from down inside her body, in her most intimate center? And that the sound of his voice was only making the throb pound stronger and louder?

  “Nuts. Good guess. But what kind?”

  To get any last bits that could help her formulate her answer, she rolled her tongue all the way around her lips to catch every drop. At that action, a whisper-quiet groan escaped from Gio’s lips, causing her to open her eyes.

  “No fair, Luci. Close your eyes,” he ordered and she obeyed.

  “Is it hazelnut?”

  “Very good.” He dabbed at her lips with a napkin, and he
r spine sharply straightened. She knew that no one in the shop would be able to see them, as the table was in a dark corner and Gio’s back was shielding them from view. But she did momentarily consider how wholly inappropriate this exercise was.

  It was only a fleeting thought, though, before the metal touched her lips again, making her forget who she was, what she was, as she could only surrender to Gio’s spoon and what it told her to do.

  “This one is easy. It has to be strawberry. The pink one I saw in the display case.”

  “You’re good at this, Luci.” They both knew why he kept mentioning her Florence nickname.

  He ran the tip of the spoon along her lower lip. Her tongue followed the motion to chase any specks of the fruity goodness that might have lingered. Then he abruptly took the spoon away, and the tip of her tongue darted out to try to catch it, though it was gone. Gio’s easy laugh shot straight into the base of her belly.

  “Are you ready?” He brought the spoon back to tease her lips apart again. Her eyes involuntarily popped open. His smiling face and the nod he gave her was an unspoken direction to close them again. Which she did, with a slow inhale that filled her lungs with the fragrance of the shop.

  To the next creamy offering, she rolled the gelato around her mouth again. “Chocolate. A dark chocolate at that.”

  “Taste more,” he said as he fed her another bite.

  “Delicious.”

  “Exquisite.”

  “Did you have some?”

  “No. I was talking about...” He stopped himself.

  Luci raised her eyelids. Gio wasn’t smiling anymore. His brows creased and his nostrils flared. There was a flush in his cheeks.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” he bit out. “I need to get back to work.”

  In a split second, his mood had gone from playful to upset. She didn’t understand what had happened, and truth be told, she was intoxicated from the ice cream feeding. His displeasure was making her dizzy.

  He shot up and pulled her so she was standing, too. Then he steered her out of the shop so fast her feet didn’t touch the ground. With a quick wave, he hailed a taxi and secured her inside. “I’ll walk to my office from here and see you later at the villa.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “TELL HIM WE’LL ship the first hundred thousand to him by November.” Gio gave Samuele his verdict during their daily briefing in his office. It was late afternoon and the sun had moved away from the windows, letting a thick whiteness blanket the sky.

  “That’s a reasonable commitment. But what is bothering you?” The older man leaned forward in his chair facing Gio at his desk. “You are snappy and distracted.”

  Why did Samuele have to read him so well? Maybe because he was like an uncle? Because he’d been with the company since the beginning? Had watched Gio and Dante grow from young children into men?

  Gio gave him a snarl, though it was quickly diffused by Samuele’s loving smile.

  The truth was, Gio still hadn’t recovered from that gelato-eating-turned-erotic encounter he’d had with Princess Luciana a few hours earlier. Not to mention the explosive kiss the night before. He reprimanded himself for his impulsive behavior. There was no way that spoon-feeding sweet ice cream into her luscious little mouth was going to have been a good idea. What he hadn’t realized was just how bad a move it was. Because while he may have satiated Luciana’s appetite for the Italian treat, it had left him ravenous. For her. Which was not in the plan at all.

  Indeed, as he played the guessing game with her and her eyes had closed, a craving came over Gio so powerful it almost pushed him to madness. Watching her pink tongue dart out to chase the ice cream was a sight he couldn’t imagine would ever get old. A voracious surge had forced itself through him as he told her to keep her eyes closed, leaving her defenseless and in his charge.

  There was more he wanted from her as he visualized at least a dozen places on her body where he’d like to sample gelato from. By the time that list was made, the hunger was visible on his body, and he’d had to shift sideways in his chair to keep the princess from noticing. It was at the most inopportune moment that she opened her eyes and was able to perceive his discomfort with the arousal.

  Gio studied Samuele’s face, wrinkled with age but still very much alive and present.

  “Samuele, do you trust Ginevra?” Samuele’s second wife. His first had died young.

  “Of course. Without trust there is no love. And without love, life is not worth living.”

  “But do you really trust her? Do you keep secrets from her, about work or about your hopes or feelings? Because you’re worried that one day she might use something against you?”

  “Mio amico, what are you talking about? Of course I’ve trusted both of my wives with everything. Just as your father trusts your mother.”

  Gio’s telephone rang. “Yes. Schedule that meeting for two weeks.”

  “I understand. This is still about that woman in Hong Kong.”

  Francesca. Samuele had guessed correctly. Gio had no idea how to reconcile the disloyalty she had dealt him with the love that the men around him had for the women in their lives.

  With casual encounters his norm, it had been fairly simple for Gio to make his decision after Francesca showed her true colors. That betrayal had put his company in jeopardy, his family in jeopardy. She’d been the only woman he’d ever let get close, and so he was convinced that was that. He’d never let a woman in ever again. Nor did he have any inclination to.

  Sure, he could date all the women he wanted. A new one every night if he so desired. Without intimacy, without even good faith.

  Ever.

  Easy.

  Over and done.

  So why was he questioning that proclamation?

  “When you meet the right woman, you’ll know,” Samuele continued. “It fits perfectly with your coming back to sit at this desk, doesn’t it? Firenze is your home again, and she will find you here.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “Love has a way of showing up whether you think you’re searching for it or not.”

  When Samuele left his office, Gio replayed his words over and over. Maybe love was meant to be for Samuele, who had the good fortune to find it again after loss. However, it wasn’t going to happen for Gio.

  One thing he was crystal clear about was that the mischief at the gelateria with the princess hadn’t been a good turn of events. For either of them. Whatever force had come over him while feeding the sweet ice cream into her scrumptious mouth needed to be locked back up, and quick.

  It was probably another unwise plan that he told her they’d cook dinner together at the villa tonight, as they had been going to restaurants since the day she arrived. Being at home with her would be much too friendly. After he’d thought he might lift delicate Princess Luciana de la Isla de Izerote up onto the marble table at the gelateria and ravish her with a passion he didn’t even know he had, spending the evening alone with her might be dangerous business he shouldn’t dabble in.

  But she was so excited when he’d told her he would come for her in time to visit the food stalls at the Mercato Centrale, he didn’t want to let her down. It certainly wasn’t her fault that his gentlemanly self-control was being tested to its limits. Technically, it was her fault for having such a swanlike neck and porcelain skin and caramel eyes as fine as the gelato she’d tasted. However, the internal struggle to keep himself from again pressing his mouth into those bowed lips was his, not hers.

  If nothing else was able to hold him back, there was one truth of such importance that it would supersede any other impulses he might need to fight.

  He didn’t know it as fact, but he’d make an assumption.

  Her Royal Highness was almost certainly a virgin.

  A virgin bride, soon to be married. No matter how much Luciana
protested that she would never love the widower king she was to wed, Gio could never live with himself if she gave her maidenhood to a man she met on a prewedding runaway holiday. And, man-to-man, however unpleasantly she described her fiancé, Gio wouldn’t carry on his shoulders any part of her deception to him.

  A gruesome thought came over him. No one still utilized medieval methods of examination to ensure a princess bride’s virginity, did they? He didn’t know if indignities like that were even historically factual or just folklore he’d heard of, but that was another thing he surely didn’t want to spend his life worrying about. Because, much as he hated to admit, he had a premonition that he’d wonder about Princess Luciana long after she left Florence. He’d best be careful to leave his fantasies at just that. Not realities he’d mull over for eternity, knowing he’d done the wrong thing.

  It was simple, then. Under no circumstances would he let anything else romantic happen between him and Princess Luciana. Not tonight and not ever.

  * * *

  “Florence’s central market,” Gio announced to Luciana when they exited the car.

  An enthusiastic smile crossed her lips.

  “So many people.” She flipped her head from left to her right.

  “Yes, this is one of the busiest parts of the city.”

  The streets that surrounded the old market building were filled with outdoor traders selling their wares under tarped canopies to shelter from any weather. Buyers thronged three deep to peruse the offerings.

  “Can we look at these stalls before we go into the market?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve never been to a place like this before.”

  Gio didn’t doubt it. While he had wandered through the souks of Morocco, the bazaars in Istanbul and the Far East Asian night markets, Luciana had no such experiences. Being in crowds such as this would be considered too dangerous for a princess to walk through. Even with an entourage, he supposed the princess had probably never been in a crush of shoppers.

  They maneuvered into the thick of the marketplace. Unlike the food and food-related products that dominated the mercato, the outdoor vendors sold leather, pottery, souvenirs, scarves and sunglasses. Each stall was attended to by a merchant or two, some yelling about their wares or special pricing.