by Maisey Yates
They never ended in screams and accusations of infidelity. No. He always gave his women a gift, made sure he complimented their beauty, lied about how diverting he found their company and promised to cherish their time together always and to remember them fondly.
He never did.
The moment they walked out of his bedroom he forgot their names. He simply didn’t possess the capacity to care about people with any real depth. At least, people outside of his family.
He couldn’t see the value in it. He could only see the cost.
“I expect it will be wonderful. My grandmother has told me stories about the old family estates. About the palaces. But I’ve never been to see them myself. All I’ve ever seen are old, faded pictures.”
“Why exactly was the royal family expelled from the country?”
“Oh, there are a great many rumors of unfair taxation. Of my great-grandfather being a tyrant. Greedy. But I’m not entirely convinced. And certainly, that isn’t my grandmother’s take on the situation. Regardless, there was an uprising and the family had to escape in the dead of night. They’re lucky to have escaped with their lives. Most royal families don’t make out quite so well during violent depositions.”
“You speak the truth there.”
“I think I’ll be the first in my family to set foot on Isolo D’Oro since then. It’s probably a good thing that I’ll be incognito.”
“Probably.”
She smiled, her whole face brightening. It was like watching light shift over the ocean. The color moving from slate gray to a brilliant blue. “This is all a bit like a good adventure story, don’t you think?”
It reminded him of something his grandfather had said. About the whole thing being like a boy’s adventure. Why were people eternally attempting to excite him about something that felt like little more than a menial task?
“I consider it an errand,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips again. “One that I intend to do and do well, because as I said, I believe in business. In fairness. I owe my grandfather and I am determined to repay him. But that’s it.”
His dry response doused her smile and he cursed himself. “Well, I think anything can be considered an errand with the incorrect mind-set. And anything can be a game if you purpose for it to be.”
“All I need is a spoonful of sugar?”
She smiled. “It couldn’t hurt.”
“No, I suppose it couldn’t.” The plane began to descend, and Alex could see the scenery below growing larger. Could begin to make out the whitecaps of the waves on the bright water. “You had better buckle yourself, Princess. We are about to arrive in Isolo D’Oro. And that is the last time you will be called Princess for the foreseeable future.”
CHAPTER FIVE
GABRIELLA WAS STUNNED by the view spread before her. Her grandmother had told her how beautiful her homeland was, but she hadn’t been prepared for the true splendor of it.
The city that she and Alex were staying in was filled with ornate, old-world architecture, the Mediterranean Sea spread out before it like a gem. It was a glorious mixture of old and new. High-rises being built in a new section of the city, dedicated to bringing much needed commerce to the nation. While the old historic districts remained unchanged.
She wanted to go out and explore. She did not want to cool her heels in the grand hotel suite that Alex had installed them in. But Alex had insisted that he had some work to do, and it would not do to have her wandering around the country by herself.
She supposed that she could defy him on the matter, but she honestly had such limited travel experience that she didn’t feel terribly inclined to do that. She was much more likely to stick close to the large American businessman acting as her escort, as she had a feeling he would be a little bit more accomplished at guarding her physical safety than she would.
Not that anything about Isolo D’Oro seemed menacing, but stories of how her family had escaped under threat echoed in her mind. It wasn’t something she could simply forget.
“How are your impressions so far?”
Alex chose that moment to come out of his bedroom. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a wedge of tan skin covered with just the right amount of dark chest hair.
She questioned that thought the moment it entered her mind. What on earth was the appropriate amount of chest hair, and how was she so certain that he was in possession of it? It wasn’t as though she was an expert on men’s chests or the quantity of hair on them.
How strange that she was putting so much thought into his.
“It’s lovely,” she said, turning her focus back to the view, and resolutely away from his chest.
“I’m glad you think so.”
She studied him closely. “Are you?”
He smiled and the impact of it felt like a punch in the chest. He was an irritatingly large presence. His every movement set the hairs on her arms on end, his shifting expressions creating a seismic reaction in her internal organs.
“No,” he said. “I don’t actually care what you think. It just seemed a polite thing to say.”
She looked at him, unable to get a genuine read on him. “I can’t decide whether or not I’m amused by you,” she said.
“I believe the general consensus of me is that I’m horrifying.”
“Hmm. Really?”
“My reputation precedes me in all corners of the earth. I’m known to be quite hard. Demanding. A perfectionist in areas of business. Sometimes scarcely human. Some say that if you cut me, I would, in fact, not bleed.”
“Well, that is ridiculous. Because everybody bleeds,” she said.
“For such a clever creature, you are alarmingly literal.”
“It is ridiculous,” she insisted. “All of it. Obviously you’re human.”
His smile only grew broader. “Is it obvious? I feel it isn’t to many. But then, I find that amusing and don’t do much to dispel the idea that I might be some kind of monster.”
“Why?”
He walked across the small living area, heading back toward the bedroom he had just come out of and pushing the door open. “Coming?” he asked.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage. “What?”
“You asked a question. I thought you might want to hear the answer. But I have to go into my room to get my jacket and retrieve my tie.”
She scrambled after him, feeling a little bit silly that she had somehow read something else into those words. Of course he wasn’t asking her to come into the bedroom for…well, anything that might be done in the bedroom.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who invited seduction. And she was genuinely fine with that. Someday, she would find a man. A suitable man who would make a suitable match. Possibly a minor role. Or someone who moved in high European society but who also liked books and dusty libraries. Yes, that. Most likely. Definitely not an American businessman who took joy in tormenting others with his dry sense of humor and seemed to regard her love of reading and research with the kind of curiosity one usually reserved for a bug under a microscope.
“You want to know why I enjoy keeping others at a distance?”
“I am curious, I admit,” she said.
She was also surprised that he was even pretending he was going to give her an answer. After all, if he truly enjoyed keeping people at a distance, why would he disclose any information that might bring the two of them closer together? It didn’t make sense.
“I like the freedom it affords me,” he said. He opened up the closet and pulled out a jacket and a tie. Both black, exactly like the ones he’d worn earlier. Though she had a feeling they were a different set than before. “When people fear you they tend to defer to you. That ensures I get my way most of the time.”
“What are they afraid you’ll do?”
“I don’t know.” He began to button his shirt collar. “That’s the most amusing part. For all the rumors of my misdeeds, I have yet to actually throw anyone in a dungeon. Neither ha
ve I ever sucked anyone’s blood. However, my legend looms large, and who am I to argue with that?”
“I don’t think I have a legend. Well, obviously I don’t, as you had never heard of me when you arrived at the estate.”
He lifted a shoulder as he looped the tie around his neck. “But then, you had never heard of me, either, cara.”
“True enough. But I’m rather cloistered there at the estate. There are a great many things I haven’t heard of.”
He arched a dark brow. “Does your grandmother not have Wi-Fi?”
“Yes, we have the internet. It’s just that I don’t often make use of it.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s very disconcerting to know you could log into a news website at any time and your family is the headline. I just…” Her stomach twisted just thinking about it. “I prefer to avoid it. My brothers… Well, they’re as rich as you are. Just as ruthless. Libertines, as you put it earlier. My parents are worse. At least my brothers have some good qualities to redeem them. They are amusing. When they want to be. And they’re quite nice actually. To me. Their ex-mistresses would tell you a different story. But even if they’ve earned it…even if parts of it are true…I don’t really enjoy seeing what the media has to say about my family.”
“No,” he said, his voice softer all of a sudden. “You prefer to gather facts.”
“Yes. Exactly that.”
“You like to control the story.”
She shook her head. “No, it isn’t about me controlling a story. I want to know the truth.”
“That’s a lie, Gabby. You like to control the story. You like to hear it first. You like to decide what is done with it. You want to make sure that you are able to collect the information at the speed in which you can process it. You like to ensure that you are the one who gets to form the first opinion. There isn’t anything wrong with it. But it is the truth.”
She felt as though he’d run her through with a scabbard. It hurt terribly and made her feel exposed. As though he’d seen down deep into parts of her she’d never even examined before.
And the only reason it felt that way was because…it was true.
“Why is it you seem to think you know me so well?” she asked.
His dark eyes leveled with hers. “I recognized something of myself in you. On that same topic, I’m never entirely certain whether or not you amuse me.”
She looked down, clasping her hands together and picking at her thumbnail. “Not very many people find me amusing. I think they find me boring.”
“Now that, I can’t imagine. You are the farthest thing from boring. In fact, I find that to be one of your foremost negative qualities.”
She frowned. “Why would being entertaining be a negative quality?”
“Because I like boring women. Boring women are easy to sleep with and forget about. Boring women are the best kind.”
A rash of heat broke out over her skin, color flooding her face. “I’m not going to sleep with you so my….interestingness shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t making an offer.”
Shame washed over her. Of course he wasn’t. Of course he hadn’t meant that. But she was still talking and she couldn’t stop herself. “When I do make room in my life for that sort of relationship, I will most definitely be pursuing a man closer to my own age who has interests in common with my own.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. We have quite the generational gap between us.”
“It’s prohibitive. We won’t even like the same music.”
He chuckled softly. “But you don’t like popular music. You like classical music.”
This statement infuriated her, because it was true, too. Just like the last one. Was she somehow telegraphing her private thoughts via her eyeballs?
“And what sort of music do you like?” she asked.
“Classic rock.” He smiled. “You’re right, it isn’t to be. We’re too different.”
“Ah, well, just allow me to get the broom and dustpan so I can sweep up the pieces of my broken heart.”
“I would, but we haven’t the time for such carrying-on. We have a meeting.”
She blinked rapidly. “We do?”
“Yes. We have a meeting with the prime minister of Isolo D’Oro.”
“But… When?”
He raised his hand and looked down at his wrist, at the watch he wore that no doubt cost more than some people’s yearly salary. “In about ten minutes.”
She took in his perfectly pressed appearance. The sharp white shirt, and the rest, all an inky black to match his hair and eyes. He was like a dark angel come to life in Armani. And she was…well, she was wearing polyester pants.
“Wait a second! That isn’t fair. You had a chance to change your clothes. I’m still wearing the same thing that I was wearing on the plane.”
“Which is perfect. Because you are my assistant, not a lover. Not a princess.” He reached back into the closet and pulled out a garment bag. “So, in the next ten minutes, I would like you to make sure that you put this out for the hotel staff. The jacket I was wearing earlier. It needs to be cleaned.”
She sputtered. “I’m going to meet the prime minister of Isolo D’Oro in these ridiculous skinny…pants…whatever they are. And now I have to do your menial chores?”
“Well, Gabby, had we decided to go with the story that you were my current mistress I would have draped you in silks. As it is, I’m going to have to drape you in my dry cleaning.”
She sniffed. “You don’t have to enjoy this so much.”
He chuckled, a darkly amused sound. “Oh, yes, I absolutely do have to enjoy this. As I told you before, I’m accustomed to making my own fun. And I’m finding this quite unexpectedly fun.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE TROUBLE WITH meeting politicians was that they always came with an unreasonable amount of security detail and other various hangers-on. Of course, there were a few paparazzi, as well. But Alex knew that the prime minister was the quickest way to gaining access to the various historic sites they would need access to in order to find The Lost Love.
Most of the dining room had been cleared in preparation for his arrival, and it was almost entirely empty except for the three of them, seated at a table in the far corner.
When the man had finally arrived at the hotel restaurant a good fifteen minutes after he had said he would, he had spent an age pouring over the wine list and finding things disappointing.
Immediately, Alex found him insufferable. A pale man with a weak chin who clearly thought his time was precious, but had thought nothing of keeping Alex and Gabriella waiting. Or of insulting the hotel staff with comments about the wine, while not bothering to make a formal introduction.
Alex made it a point not to telegraph any of his irritation to the other man. As soon as the wine had been selected, Alex turned his focus to the business at hand.
“Alessandro Di Sione,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s good to meet you, Prime Minister Colletti. This is my assistant, Gabby. A university student doing a bit of work experience. She’s come with me to help me on my mission.”
“And what exactly is that?” asked the prime minister, leaning back in his chair, his arms behind his head.
“I’ve become somewhat of an avid art collector of late. I heard that the collection here on Isolo D’Oro is beyond price. I’m interested in acquiring some pieces. Particularly those that belonged to the former royal family because of the…significance of the time period.”
“A historian and an art enthusiast?”
“Absolutely,” Alex said.
The other man smiled. “Which sorts of art are you most interested in?”
Alex hesitated. His grandfather was right. He probably was owed a refund on that expensive boarding school education.
“Portraiture primarily,” Gabriella interjected. “Oils on canvas, mostly. Though I know that there are some excellent marble busts. And also some paintings
that depict the scenery. Some wonderful depictions of farms? I have heard tell—I mean, Alessandro has told me. He is quite enthusiastic about the painting of the geese.”
The prime minister laughed. “Yes. One of my favorites. I don’t think I could part with it.”
“Everything has a price,” Alex said.
“Some things.”
“Either way, we would be very interested in seeing the collection,” Alex continued.
“And I am happy to show it. The palace is home to the art collections of the royal family, so you’ll find whatever you like there. But I’m curious. You’re currently in charge of a vast shipping company, is that correct?”
Now, the other man was speaking Alex’s language. Alex leaned forward, suddenly feeling much more interested in the interaction. “Yes, I am.”
“I might have need of your services. The entire country might. It would be interesting to see if we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“Yes, that would be interesting,” Alex said.
It was suddenly clear why Prime Minister Colletti had been so eager to meet with them. Money. Alex’s very favorite language.
“Well, but we’re here to study art,” Gabriella protested.
“A good businessperson learns to multitask early on, as you will learn when you discover more about the world,” he responded.
She said nothing to that, but he could tell she wanted to kick him under the table.
“Wonderful,” the prime minister said. “It just so happens that I’m having an open house party at the palace. Celebrating fifty years of independence for Isolo D’Oro.”
He could feel Gabriella quivering with rage, and for once, not all of it was directed at him. He reached beneath the table and quickly squeezed her hand. A warning.
What he hadn’t anticipated was how soft her skin would be. How smooth.
He withdrew his touch quickly, keeping his focus trained on the prime minister.
“I would very much like to have you attend the party,” the other man was saying. “Your assistant is welcome also. That way, you can see some of the art, a bit of the architecture and we can also discuss the possibility of a business partnership.”