Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals)

by Burnham, Nicole

  The mental image of the twins standing on the deck surrounded by flowing champagne and platters of hors d'oeuvres made his stomach rumble. If he’d had half a brain in his head, he’d have grabbed food on the way out the door. No matter what happened with Kelly and her bank, a meal was his next order of business.

  A polite, “Would you please check that? It’s very important…yes, of course I’ll wait,” came from the Jeep, though he suspected the words were said through clenched teeth. He didn’t turn around to look, choosing to keep his eyes trained on the distant vessel. He could understand why Kelly had trouble meshing her idea of Massimo, the dog-owning man from the beach, with Massimo, the yacht-owning prince. The two sides of his life were worlds apart both economically and socially. But last night, when he’d made love to her, he’d been completely honest about his emotions. From the first kiss in the driveway until the moment he’d left her bed this morning, he’d been completely focused on her and on what she did to him. While the sex was astounding, it was more than that. He’d never felt more like himself than in those hours with her. He might’ve been dishonest about his identity, but he hadn’t been dishonest during those hours in her bed. Or on her floor. Or in her shower.

  He swiped a hand over his face. If he didn’t purge the image of her naked, perfectly sculpted body from his thoughts, he’d end up with a massive hard-on all over again, and now was not an opportune time. He had to figure out what to do with her, and that “do” did not involve sex.

  Typically he wasn’t the impulsive one in the family. That character trait was more descriptive of Alessandro or Stefano. But in this case, Massimo hadn’t thought past getting Kelly out of jail, he’d only known he needed to do it. Tooling around town in his Jeep with her at his side for the rest of the afternoon wasn’t an option. Life was complicated enough at the moment as he made the transition from being on his own, answering only to his military commanders, to being back in his formal role as a prince, answerable to his parents and to his country. The last thing he needed was to be entangled in a foreign woman’s legal trouble.

  He stretched his legs in front of him and eased his arms across the back of the bench. He was kidding himself. He was entangled, whether he wanted to be or not.

  When he’d spoken with the officers manning the lobby desk, they’d pulled up Kelly’s info on their computer. He’d feigned interest in one of the officer’s badges so he could lean across the desk and read the information on screen. Within seconds, he spotted his name in the report as being present at the time of arrest. If any of the press looked at the day’s police logs—which they were bound to do, now that he’d been seen leaving the station—they’d start asking questions.

  Picking her up at the station had been the right thing to do, regardless of the risk. Hopefully his appearance convinced the police that there was nothing more to his relationship with Kelly than a dog rescue. If they’d dropped that tidbit to the carnivores at the station door, he’d be fine. Kelly would soon be on her way home and he’d be back at the palace, reading his mother’s lists and listening to Vittorio’s demands that he attend this or that reception.

  Problem was, he wasn’t ready to let Kelly go just yet. Despite the tension between them on the drive from the police station—no surprise, given that he’d left her in the lurch this morning—he wanted to know more about her. Their discussion over dinner gave him insight into her character, but it wasn’t enough. She’d run her own business, she was kind to Giulia, and she appreciated the simple things in life. Her ability to read his mood in the wine cellar and to enchant Gaspare intrigued him. But now he wanted to know what happened to her wedding. What had convinced her to take what was obviously a well-planned honeymoon alone. What really happened with her bank account.

  Why their sexual chemistry left him on fire hours later.

  Why, for the first time in his life, he’d given precedence to lust over common sense.

  His phone vibrated in his back pocket. A glance at the Jeep showed Kelly was still on her call, so he clicked to answer.

  “Mother says you need a stylist,” his sister said without preamble. “Do you really?”

  “She’s the boss.”

  That drew a particularly unladylike snort from Sophia. “I suppose I need to find one for you?”

  “I suppose. Someone efficient. Not too chatty. And I only want them long enough to satisfy Mother that I’ll have all the appropriate suits.” Not that he couldn’t pick them himself.

  “Anyone specific in mind?”

  “You’re kidding me, right? I barely know what they do.” At her answering laughter, he added, “I still can’t fathom why Mother doesn’t believe I can dress myself.”

  “You can,” Sophia assured him. “You have surprisingly good taste. But you haven’t been to any big public events in years. How many suits do you own now?”

  “That fit?” He did a quick mental inventory. His closet primarily held suits from his college years, when he’d attended royal functions during summers and his visits home. The military had changed his physique since then. “Maybe three.”

  “That’s it?” He could envision her look of horror. “You need an entirely new wardrobe.”

  “Need is such an overused word—”

  “I can’t picture you wanting to shop for clothes. A stylist will meet with you to discuss your preferences and offer suggestions, then do the shopping for you. Once he or she brings you a selection, you can try on everything and choose what you think suits you best—pun completely intended—in the privacy of your apartment.”

  “Shopping made faster, in other words.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Then hire away. And thanks. I owe you one.” Perhaps he’d tell Giulia he spilled the ravioli and get another order to go. Sophia would love him for it.

  He was about to say goodbye and pocket the phone when his sister asked, “So where are you now?”

  “Running errands.” Safe an answer as any.

  “With the closet person?”

  Vittorio and his mother must’ve talked about him at their luncheon. He twisted on the bench to steal another look at Kelly. She was leaning back in the passenger seat, cell phone pressed to her ear, with her other hand pressed to her forehead and her face turned up to the sky. Her auburn hair gleamed in the sun, but he suspected she wouldn’t be appreciative of the effect at the moment. “I haven’t hired one yet.”

  “Do it soon. Mother is on a mission.” There was a commotion on the other end of the line, then she said, “I have an appointment, so I need to go. I’ll let you know when I find a stylist.”

  He thanked her again, then hung up. Life in the military was so much easier. As long as he kept his hair buzzed, his boots shined, and his equipment clean, no one nagged him. It was taken for granted that he’d do what needed to be done when it needed to be done, because that’s how he’d been trained. To meet real needs. Yet for all the training he’d received as a royal, his parents—his mother in particular, lately—seemed more and more concerned he or his siblings would fall down on the job and embarrass the family.

  He’d have to ask his mother why she worried so much more than she used to. But it was a question for another day, a day when he didn’t have an American tourist sitting in his Jeep. He raised his hip to return the phone to his pocket when it vibrated once more. This time, a text from Vittorio lit the screen.

  Who is Kelly Chase?

  His throat tightened. How in the world did Vittorio have her name? He pondered his response for a moment, then typed:

  A tourist who found Gaspare on the beach. Why?

  Maybe he’d seen Giulia or Guillermo. But then he wouldn’t know Kelly’s last name…he didn’t think he’d mentioned it to them, though he might’ve. His breath stilled as he waited for Vittorio’s response.

  Bail? Really?

  He exhaled. It’d been less than an hour. And if Vittorio knew, likely his parents did, too, or they soon would. He stared at the phone. Refusing to answe
r would only lead to more questions.

  Call it chivalry. She found my dog. I owed her one. See you shortly.

  The Jeep door thumped closed behind him. He turned toward the sound and shoved the phone away for good. If Vittorio had more questions, they’d have to wait.

  No grown man should have to live under the same roof as his adult siblings, let alone under the same roof as his parents. Even if that roof was the size of the one topping the country’s royal palace.

  “Get things settled?” he asked as Kelly approached the bench.

  “Yes and no. I found out what happened, but it’ll take a while to unravel.”

  He both admired and hated the coolness in her voice. “What can I do to help?”

  “You’ve helped me plenty. I’m not in jail.” She waved a hand, as if that would wave off the problem. “It’s just one of those things. And I apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “Inconveniencing you. Embarrassing you in front of the police. Being snarky when you offered me a ride.” A tinge of pink crept into her cheeks as she took a seat beside him on the bench. Close, but not too close. “Look, I was taken aback when you didn’t help me out this morning—”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Okay, angry is more like it. I’d hoped that you’d intervene with the police, since they didn’t seem to understand what I was saying. But now that I’ve had time to think, I realize what a bad position you were in.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The lack of sleep made him punchy, because her use of the phrase bad position made him remember what a good position—correction, positions—he’d been in prior to the officers’ arrival.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The entire situation,” he said, opting not to share his exact thoughts.

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Think about it. We’re in bed. Fantastic night of incredibly hot sex, if I do say so myself, complete with a flying mattress. Then the police come pounding on the door. You get dressed like lightning, I clean up as fast as I can—”

  “Thanks for that, by the way, since they followed me inside while I packed my stuff.”

  “Then I walk out on you. Comical.” He shook his head before tipping his face toward the midafternoon sun. The weather couldn’t be more perfect. It was exactly the type of day she should be spending on the beach in that unbelievable pink bikini.

  “I suppose, when you think of it that way, it is funny,” she conceded.

  “But I still owe you an apology.” He turned on the bench to look at her. “I’m sorry I walked out on you this morning. And that I kept my title from you. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have.”

  “How about this…I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive me for not being clear about why I came to Sarcaccia.”

  He reached out a hand. “Agreed.”

  The handshake was quick, as if she feared touching him for too long.

  A second later, she added, “I have to say, the jail part and my finances aren’t so comical.”

  “No.” Nor was his guilty conscience after returning to the palace. “So what are you going to do now? Need me to take you to the villa?”

  “The police seemed to believe the landlord re-rented it. I’ll need to call to be sure.” She pulled a face. “Even if it’s still available, though, I need to find a way to pay for it. My bank account was closed and the money withdrawn. Then when I tried to use my credit card at the police station ATM, it triggered a fraud alert. The credit card company said it’ll take twenty-four to forty-eight hours to sort out.”

  “Someone closed your bank account without you there?” How could that happen?

  She took a moment to answer. When she did, the pads of her fingers were pressed hard against her legs, as if she were physically pushing back her temper. “It was a joint account with my fiancé. Former fiancé. He closed it yesterday and withdrew all the funds. However, the money was mine from the sale of my business. When I ended our engagement, I thought it best to leave the money where it was until all the payments from the trip cleared. I planned to transfer the balance to a new account and use it to start my next business when I returned home.”

  Her voice was matter-of-fact, despite the fury she had to feel, which raised his respect for her another notch. At the same time, he hated hearing the word fiancé coming from her mouth. He didn’t want to imagine Kelly with another man.

  Which was insane. He hadn’t even known her twenty-four hours yet.

  “I’m sorry. You must be livid.”

  “Good word for it. And thank you.”

  “I’m happy to lend you money to pay for the villa if it’s still yours.” He noticed her stiffen as he made the offer, so he added, “Of course, you could always stay on one of my family’s yachts. They’re quite well-equipped. And they have the ocean view you came to Sarcaccia to enjoy.”

  The teasing suggestion served to lighten the moment. She smiled and gave his knee a quick, friendly pat, the contact sending his mind to thoughts far from friendly. “Thank you, but no. It was more than generous of you to come bail me out of jail. I’ll pay you back for that, by the way, and—”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is. I’ve worked hard and saved. I have plenty of money. I don’t have access to it at the moment, but I will.” The way Kelly said it, he wouldn’t want to be in her ex-fiancé’s shoes when she caught up to the guy.

  “If you’re certain,” he told her. “But it’s truly unnecessary.”

  “I’m certain.” She stood and brushed her hands against her thighs. The jeans she’d tossed on this morning before running for the door were likely stifling in the Sarcaccian heat. “But if I could ask you one more favor?”

  Take me to bed again. The words popped into his head at the sight of her standing before him, her T-shirt clinging to her curves. It would be stupid beyond belief to make love to her again. She had trouble written all over her. “It depends on the favor.”

  “Assuming the villa is gone, would you mind driving me to a hotel? I should be able to negotiate a rate I can afford out of my backup account. It’s not much, but I do still have access to it.” A self-deprecating smile lifted one side of her mouth. “I was smart enough to keep an account in my own name. Just wasn’t smart enough to keep more money in it.”

  He shoved to his feet. Beside him, she seemed small and delicate, yet he knew she wasn’t. “I could, but I think it’s a bad idea.”

  “I’m sure I can work out some arrangement. It doesn’t have to be fancy. As long as I have a bed, I’ll be happy.” There was confidence in her words, though tight lines formed around her mouth. “Please, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m more resourceful than you think.”

  “Tell me something. How far ahead did you book your villa?”

  She paused. “Almost six months.”

  Which meant she’d been engaged—and had a wedding date set—for some time. He shoved that disturbing thought aside. “How tough was it to book? Was there a higher deposit than usual?”

  “It was the first place I called. I saw it online and thought it was perfect.” She shrugged. “I had to book for a two-week minimum stay, which I thought was unusual, but that was how long I planned to visit anyway. Why? You’re looking at me as if you think there’ll be a problem.”

  “First, it’s high season here. On top of that, our Independence Day celebration begins this weekend and there are tie-in events all next week. Nearly every hotel and villa on the island requires a minimum stay right now because they’re in high demand. The odds of you finding a hotel room—particularly one at a decent rate—for the duration of your vacation are slim to none. Not unless you luck into someone else’s last-minute cancellation.”

  She considered that before pulling out her phone once more. “I won’t know unless I call. And for all I know, the villa’s still mine. It should be.”

  More likely the landlord banked Kelly’s forfeited deposit and immediately filled the
vacancy, but Massimo took a seat and waited for her to make the calls. No sense in wasting his breath when she seemed only to trust herself.

  Again, not that he could blame her. He kept his eyes on the water while she paced the seaside walkway, making call after call once she’d ascertained that the villa was gone. A short time later, she stood before him with her hands at her hips. “You were right. I was wrong. You win.”

  “Wasn’t a competition to win or lose.” He didn’t move his gaze from the sea until she shifted and cast a shadow over him.

  “We should go.”

  When he raised his head, he saw what precipitated her statement. A large group of teens was headed in their direction with picnic gear in tow, presumably so they could set up on the shaded table just beyond the parking lot. Once he and Kelly were out of the lot, she said, “Didn’t want to put you in another bad position, where we’d be seen together by high schoolers.”

  He kept his lips firmly pressed together so he wouldn’t smile. Once he knew he could maintain a serious demeanor, he asked, “Where to?”

  She pointed to an intersection about a hundred meters in front of them, where the stoplight changed from yellow to red. “Drop me off at the corner up there.”

  “So you can do what?” It came out sounding more astonished than he wanted. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t let her go anywhere on the island alone. Not until he determined what the press—and his family—did or didn’t know about her.

  “I’ll think of something. There are hostels, bed and breakfasts, any number of places I can try.”