Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals)

by Burnham, Nicole

  * * *

  Kelly kept her hands to her sides, hoping to hide the fact she shook.

  He really thought he was a rebound guy. Granted, she’d even told herself Massimo was her reward when he’d shown up in front of her on the beach in that ab-tastic thin shirt, but her attitude toward him changed as they’d spent the evening at Giulia's.

  Apparently, his attitude toward her had not. He’d all but confirmed that he considered her a one-night stand and nothing more.

  She’d be insane to take the job, even if it solved problems for them both. He was too great a temptation.

  But if he didn’t want to sleep with her, why in the world did he really want her in his apartment? Working all of about twenty feet from his bed? It was all she could do to appear cool as she awaited his answer.

  He merely shrugged. “It saves me having to hunt for anyone else and deal with interviews. Plus, if the press discovers I came to the jail for you, being able to say that you’re working here makes us both look good. I went to help the woman who found my dog, just as I explained to the police, then I ended up hiring her for a position at the palace—at the same time I made several other hires, of course—because, out of sheer luck, she happened to have the perfect qualifications for the job opening. Anyone who researches you will see how successful you were in Dallas. Right?”

  “They would.” Several Dallas newspapers and the local business journals covered the sale of her company. Prior to that, she’d been profiled in D Magazine and interviewed by several Dallas and Fort Worth radio stations about closet organization and design. A quick Internet search would pull up that information, and all of it made her look extremely well-qualified for the job Massimo now offered.

  “Good. It makes a much better story for us than if the press runs with the idea I went to bail out a woman with whom I’d enjoyed a fling. It’s simple, it all checks out, you look good, I look good. And there’s no scandal to give the story legs.”

  Her throat constricted. Okay. Maybe she’d be insane not to take the job.

  “What’s your usual rate?” he asked. “While we were out in the Jeep, my staff budget was delivered. I’m confident we can come to an arrangement that will enable you to cover the cost of your tours as well as adequately compensate you for your services.”

  “I usually base it on the number of hours the project will require, plus materials. I don’t know what materials might cost here in Sarcaccia, though, or what you might want. We’d need to discuss that. At a minimum, you’d need to replace the hang rods. They’re splintered.”

  “We both know it’s a bigger job than that.” He named a figure that blew her mind. “Will that cover it, you think? Of course, I would also provide you with the services of a carpenter. Given the age of the building, we keep a few on salary. They do excellent finish work, so you wouldn’t need to account for that in your budget.”

  She couldn’t contain her laughter. Could he really be that naive about costs? And to have a carpenter who could do custom work, rather than using premade cabinets and shelving? Unreal.

  “What? Am I that far off the mark?”

  “Unless shelving and hang rods run triple the price of what the most expensive custom work does in the States, yes. What you’re offering is an astronomical budget.”

  “If I paid you that amount as a flat fee, would it give you enough to cover your tours? And would the time be sufficient for you to both see the island and do the closet?”

  “It’s enough time and more than enough money. And that’s assuming you want a total gut job on the closet. Massimo, if I charged that at home, it’d be highway robbery.”

  His face split into a wide smile, one that sent her heartbeat into overdrive against her will. “You’re saying yes.”

  “At that fee? Heck yes, I’m saying yes.” She could handle being around him for two weeks, she rationalized. If anything, maybe cleaning out the man’s closet and refurbishing it would put a damper on the insane attraction she felt for him. Nothing like sorting a bunch of old skivvies to kill a woman’s libido.

  Except she knew that wouldn’t be the case. He was a living, breathing sex god, and she’d find him attractive even if he had a stash of pink and purple striped, ratty underwear lurking in those boxes, though she knew he wouldn’t.

  But it beat going back to Dallas with her tail between her legs and having to explain to her family and friends why she’d returned so soon. This way, she could return with a surprise boost to her resume, enough money to live on while she recouped her money from Ted, and the sightseeing experiences she’d dreamed about when she booked the trip in the first place.

  “Fantastic. How soon can you start? What do you need from me?”

  She blinked, then took another look around the closet. “Well, I can start today. The question is when you can start. I can empty this out and get measurements and offer some design suggestions. But I’ll need you to either sort through these boxes with me or give me a quick, general list of what needs to go, what can stay, and what can be donated. My rule of thumb is that if you haven’t used or worn something in a calendar year, it needs to either go or be donated. For special occasion wear, I’ll give you three years. Anything sentimental needs to be marked as such—say you have a hat that you never wear, but that belonged to your favorite uncle—so we can keep them. Oh, and I’ll need to set up a meeting with the carpenter. That will give me a better sense of their timeline and what materials and options are available here in Sarcaccia for the actual design.”

  He looked at her in admiration. “You get right down to business.”

  “It’s how I stayed in business.” She couldn’t help the pride in her voice. “I’m efficient and I try to make the process as easy and predictable as possible for my clients.”

  “All right.” He let out a breath and backed out of the closet. “Let me arrange for the carpenter and pull together a general list of what’s in the closet. There’s very little I want to keep, so it won’t take me long. In the meantime, I’ll call the head housekeeper for this wing and have her show you to your rooms. You can take a nap and make any calls you need to in order to straighten out your finances. We can meet back here around four-thirty. Sound like a plan?”

  “Works for me.”

  “In that case” —he extended his hand toward her— “Kelly Chase, I’m glad to have you working here at the palace.”

  His handshake was cool and professional, but she could swear she caught a spark of attraction in his gaze before he broke contact and went to dial the housekeeper.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He needed his head examined.

  Massimo stretched his arms overhead and yawned, then reluctantly returned his attention to the thick stack of papers and shiny brochures that had been delivered to his suite over the course of the afternoon. His sister sent over the profiles of three stylists along with her personal comments about who might work best with Massimo given what she knew of them. Briefs on political, economic, and charitable issues involving the royal family arrived from both his father’s and his mother’s offices. His mother followed up less than an hour later by offering once again to have advisers update him verbally if that would be easier than wading through the briefs. Massimo glanced at the towering pile of documents and weighed reading them against feigning interest while listening to the endless drone of a policy wonk. He doubted there was a right choice. Either would require a fistful of aspirin.

  On the bright side, Vittorio had called and offered the services of his own personal assistant until Massimo hired an assistant of his own, saying she’d be happy to arrange Massimo’s schedule and set up the interviews for him, a thankless task for which he planned to send her a generous bouquet of flowers. Then, of course, Vittorio asked again about Kelly. Massimo kept his response nonchalant, telling Vittorio he’d fill him in later, in person. By that point, perhaps there’d be progress on the closet and Vittorio would let the issue rest.

  While he was on the phone with Vi
ttorio, the queen left a message asking if Massimo wanted suggestions for decorators, saying that when she returned to the palace following the athletic center opening, she’d be happy to e-mail the names and contact information for those who’d previously worked in the palace. She also had recommendations from friends of hers who, in her words, “have aesthetic sensibilities similar to yours.”

  Did he have aesthetic sensibilities? He supposed he did, if having an I-know-what-I-like-when-I-see-it attitude counted. He wasn’t sure how his mother reconciled that with her friends’ opinions on home decor.

  He shoved aside the stylists’ resumes. More coffee was in order if he was going to make sense of them. He walked to his kitchen and filled the chamber of the coffeemaker with water, then clicked it to life. As he located a mug and a packet of sugar, he wondered how Kelly managed to stay awake all afternoon. Or if she had. The head of housekeeping notified him that the guest suites were full for once, given the number of dignitaries visiting Sarcaccia for the upcoming Independence Day celebrations, but she had Prince Stefano’s permission to house any additional guests in his suite, which was next door to Massimo’s. She offered to put Kelly there, if that was fine with Massimo, pointing out that it would give the new closet organizer easy access to his apartment.

  Of course, he’d said yes. And of course, while standing in the closet doorway writing out the promised inventory of its contents for Kelly, he’d allowed his mind to wander to what might be happening on the other side of his apartment wall. When he realized he’d listed his old sports equipment for the donation pile three times, he knew he was in trouble.

  He needed to get on with his life. His real life, here in Sarcaccia. The one that demanded he find a cause about which he was passionate, then use his resources to pursue it to the best of his ability. He didn’t need to moon over a tourist who’d had a streak of bad luck and would be gone in two weeks. One who would’ve been gone from his life today, if he’d simply dropped her at the airport.

  Instead, he’d created a catch-22 for himself. He could only move forward with his life here by protecting his reputation, which meant covering his tail after his hedonistic night with Kelly. Hiring her lessened potential public relations problems where she was concerned. Nailing down that first hire would also give his mother a sense of relief, knowing that her son was once again focused on his royal duties.

  On the other hand, he couldn’t move forward as long as he kept Kelly close, either. She’d pointed out that he could’ve hired anyone for the job. While he doubted that was true—working in the royal palace required a certain level of discretion—he certainly didn’t have to hire her. He’d done it because it was the path of least resistance.

  He’d done it because he couldn’t let her go.

  He was a five-star idiot. He was attracted, deeply attracted, to the woman.

  She saw in him what no one else saw. Laughed at his jokes, took his teasing in the spirit it was intended, then gave as good as she got. Noticed his discomfort in the wine cellar, but didn’t embarrass him when ensuring he was all right. Treated his scars as the wounds they were without asking for more detail than he offered. And she understood him well enough from the first few hours they’d spent together to know that’s what he wanted. He leaned against the refrigerator and waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

  An overwhelming desire to help her had fueled him into keeping her around, a desire to fix her asshole ex’s wrongs and show Kelly that she both deserved and expected better. And, frankly, a desire to prove to her that despite having money and connections—and yes, a few yachts—he was nothing like her ex.

  But what then? What if he did prove himself to her?

  He’d be right back where he started, with a complication. And now he’d put her in the one position that meant that, even if he proved all that and more, they couldn’t sleep together again. He’d made her his employee for the duration of her time in the country. Shaking her hand to seal the deal as if she were any other hire and knowing what that meant for their relationship was downright painful.

  “Necessary,” he muttered to himself.

  Beeps finally marked the end of the coffeemaker’s brewing cycle. After pouring himself a cup of invigoration, he strode back to the living room and grabbed an economic brief from the top of the pile. It could be worse, he rationalized. Kelly would be gone in two weeks and he’d end up with a killer closet in the deal. Five minutes online finding information on her former company showed him that much. Besides, he had Independence Day activities to think about. Two weeks should go by in a flash, given that he’d hardly be in his apartment for the next few days.

  A glance at the garden showed that the section near his rooms was empty, so after whistling for Gaspare and snapping a tie-out rope onto the dog’s collar, he let himself out the back door and settled on one of the benches to read. With Gaspare’s rope hooked to one end of the bench, the boy had enough room to play without being able to reach the fountain.

  An hour later, Massimo was so engrossed in his reading that he wouldn’t have heard footsteps approaching behind him if not for a happy yip and tail wag from Gaspare. Two hands came down on the bench beside Massimo just as he turned to see who was behind him.

  “Whatcha reading, little brother?” Cheer filled Stefano’s familiar voice. “Whatever has you so focused, I want some.”

  Massimo held the papers aloft as Stefano rounded the bench. “Economic brief? Really?”

  “On second thought, keep it to yourself. I’ve read them all already.”

  “No doubt.” Massimo set the papers to the side. “Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress on the conference center and on upgrading the transportation system. Well done.”

  “Thank you.” He gave an exaggerated bow before taking a seat beside Massimo. “It’s been my passion.”

  “That’s your passion? Have you informed Megan?”

  “Very funny.” He looked sideways at Massimo and flashed a smile that lit his clear green eyes, eyes identical to their mother’s. “So much has happened this summer, I can’t begin to comprehend it all. Happy as I am that the transportation upgrades and conference center refurbishment are on schedule, I’m far happier about finding Megan.”

  “I imagine so.” He returned Stefano’s smile and added, “If you didn’t, she might strangle you.”

  “That she might.” Stefano leaned back on the bench, then made a few innocuous observations about the garden as he scratched Gaspare’s head. After a few minutes of chatter, he asked, “By the way, who’s the woman staying in my old apartment? I didn’t recognize her name. She here for the Independence Day celebrations?”

  “No, Mother insisted I begin hiring staff. She’s in charge of revamping my closet. Since she’s only here temporarily and needs access to my rooms, I figured she should stay in the palace.”

  “That’s all?”

  Given the teasing tone in his question, Stefano had probably talked to Vittorio. Great. Massimo kept his tone level and asked, “What, you want to hire her to do your closet while she’s here?”

  “First, my apartment has already been redone, closet and all. And even if it hadn’t been, my clothes are all in my new apartment, where my future wife has the closet handled, thank you very much.” Stefano gave a half-hearted shrug. “I was simply wondering why you put her up at the palace.”

  “If you want her out of your rooms—”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “She’s from the States. I didn’t want to make her stay in a hotel given that they’re overrun at the moment.”

  Stefano contemplated that. “If I were single I’d put her next to my rooms, too.”

  “So you saw her?”

  His mouth took a devilish hook. “Saw her in the long gallery talking to the housekeeping staff. Hard to miss her with that hair. If the rest of your hires look like she does, you’ll have Alessandro stalking your rooms.”

  “He’d have to be around the palace, first.” Massimo noted.
“Speaking of which, I assume you didn’t leave your fiancée and daughter because you wanted to hang out with me in the garden.”

  “My fiancée is at work and Anna is in the palace kitchen. The chef called this morning to say he’s preparing appetizers for tomorrow night’s dinner and told Megan he desperately needed Anna’s help.”

  Massimo grinned at the thought of his niece’s reaction to such an invitation. The dark-haired girl was happiest when wearing a chef’s hat and learning her way around the kitchen. “I see. So you brought Anna over?”

  “At this very moment, she’s using a tube to make stars out of salmon paste.” He raised a hand in response to Massimo’s quizzical look. “Don’t ask me to explain it. All I know is that she’s thrilled. Anyway, I saw you out here and I thought I’d say hello. And” —he checked his watch, then pushed to his feet— “I have a meeting with the head of the tourism bureau in the green parlor in ten minutes. He’s giving me an update on the events being planned to coincide with the conference center’s grand opening.”

  “You can cut through my apartment. I have a meeting in ten minutes, myself.” He unhooked Gaspare’s tie-out line and allowed the dog to walk freely as they made their way back indoors.

  “So you’re getting back into the swing of life here?” Stefano asked. “Believe me, I know how hard it is to adjust after time away.”

  “Slowly but surely.” Which wasn’t the pace his parents expected. As he keyed into the rear door, Massimo asked his older brother, “Out of curiosity, what made you choose to pursue all this work on the transportation system and conference center? No offense, but to me it sounds about as exciting as studying dust bunnies.”

  “To each his own. The idea of bringing more visitors to Sarcaccia gets me excited.”

  One visitor in particular got Massimo excited, but he was certain that wasn’t what Stefano meant.

  Stefano gave his brother a hearty clap on the back as they walked through the living room. “Don’t worry. You’ll find what makes you just as happy. Give yourself some time. It took me awhile to figure out what I wanted.”