The Princess's Scandalous Affair (Royal House of Leone Book 4)

by Jennifer Lewis

  “I don’t have a condom,” he rasped. “I didn’t…I didn’t think we’d—”

  He heard her inhale. “Me neither. And I’m not on…anything.”

  Damn! The curse stayed silent, but it rang through his whole being. Then a wild thought occurred to him. “Do you think your dad might have any around somewhere?”

  She laughed. Then frowned. “I suppose it can’t hurt to check. He had guests stay here from time to time.”

  He grabbed towels from the adjoining bathroom and together they set off to explore. He had a feeling that if any of her brothers caught him like this—naked, erect and looking for a condom to impale their sister—he’d be in for the fight of his life.

  But they weren’t here, and he was. Beatriz led them into her father’s bedroom, a gloomy chamber decorated with dark paintings of dead pheasants and foxes and triumphant hounds. “We can check the bathroom.”

  She looked unbearably delicious in the simple white towel, with her long dark hair cascading down her back. “You have lovely hair.”

  Her hand flew to it. “Oh, it’s just brown. I usually tie it up.”

  “I know. I feel privileged to see it in all its glory.” To see her in all her glory. He knew that Beatriz was not one to sleep around.

  She pulled open the medicine cabinet and there was an array of pill bottles and shaving equipment but no condoms. They looked in the bedside table, which was filled with random papers but again no condoms.

  Beatriz bit her lip—a gesture that was starting to drive him near-mad with desire. “It was a long shot. I’m pretty sure my dad had a vasectomy because he had five sets of twins in about ten years, then no children since.”

  “Makes sense. Or you might be one of twenty.”

  “Or thirty,” she giggled. He couldn’t believe how relaxed she seemed given their awkward circumstances. “And I suppose guests bring their own protection and take it when they leave. I have a bad feeling that we’re not going to find anything.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Come with me.” He’d show her how much he could give—without asking for anything in return.

  He took her back into the white bedroom, climbed up on the bed and kissed and caressed her all over. He could tell she trusted him not to enter her—and that warmed his heart. He licked and sucked her sensitive tissues until her orgasm made her cry out with pleasure, legs shaking and stomach muscles shivering with tension.

  He was ready to pull his trousers back on over his blue balls, but she swiftly batted his clothes aside and took him in her mouth. He could tell she didn’t really know what she was doing—which endeared her to him all the more—but he was already aroused to the point of explosion and came within seconds. Mercifully he managed to aim into the towels they’d brought, making Beatriz laugh rather than gag.

  Spent, he collapsed onto the bed, tugging her into his arms. “That was amazing, Beatriz. Truly wonderful.”

  “Unexpected.” She gazed at him with her big dark eyes. “I liked it.”

  Her sweet, honest comment further unmanned him. “Me too.”

  He could hardly believe she wasn’t trying to run away or hastily dress in her dour dark clothing. Instead she gently ran her fingers through his hair and stroked his stubbly cheek. “I mean it, Beatriz, about the collection—for next fall and winter. Take it as a challenge. Spring fashion week is your deadline, and I’ll be there to help you every step of the way.”

  He did mean it. He had no idea where this whole thing was going, or if he’d ever get to develop that lake the way he’d dreamed of, but damn he wanted to see Beatriz shine, and turn to face her family with a smile, proving to them that she wasn’t just the quiet one that no one noticed or remembered.

  “It sounds crazy,” she murmured, toying with the bedding. “Like an impossible dream that couldn’t ever really come true.” Her long lashes flicked up as she gazed at him. “I know I couldn’t do it by myself. I’d lose confidence.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He rubbed her back. “Execution is my strength. What I lack in creativity I make up for in my ability to get the job done.”

  He could count on one hand the times he’d failed to achieve his objective—and those were only because he hadn’t achieved them…yet.

  “All right.” She inhaled, and he felt her breasts rise against his chest. “I’ll do my best. I’ll put together some drawings, and hopefully by next week they’ll be ready to take to samples. This time I’m paying for it, though.”

  “Fine by me.” He wanted this project—this dream—to be hers, and he knew she had the money. “I’ll look into renting the venue for the show. I don’t think we can start too early on that, and it will give you something concrete to envisage.

  She swallowed and he could tell she was nervous. “What if it’s a huge flop?”

  “It won’t be.”

  “How can you be so sure?” She looked up at him with those wide brown eyes.

  “Business savvy.” He managed a sly grin. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  She blew out a slow breath. “I’ll try to embrace your confidence.”

  “Perfect.” He embraced her body, drawing her close, breathing into her beautiful hair and inhaling her sweet scent. “But right now I think we need to get you back to the palace.”

  “Oh, no. You can’t drive me there.”

  “I not only can drive you there, but I absolutely intend to do it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Beatriz was still in a state of disembodied bliss as she showered with Lorenzo in the big marble double shower. She couldn’t believe they’d had sex—yet without having sex. It was so sweet and thoughtful of Lorenzo to pleasure her when they didn’t have a condom, and she was so glad she’d been able to do the same for him.

  He’d given her so much when he had her drawing made into a dress, how could she ever repay him? And he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, her ideas, her dreams.… It was all too wonderful, and she kept feeling like she was about to wake up.

  Which she was, if he took her back to the palace.

  They toweled off and dressed in their crumpled clothes. “You really can’t drive me home. They’re way too nosy. And my Aunt Liesel is in town. She’s the biggest gossip in Europe.”

  “She won’t recognize me.”

  “She’d recognize anyone whose face has ever been on a social page in one of her magazines. Perhaps you can drop me off in the village and I’ll call for someone to pick me up.”

  “You could have someone pick you up here.”

  Beatriz frowned. “No. I don’t want anyone to know I was here. Especially since we’ve made two towels wet and rumpled the bedding!” She hurried to smooth out the elaborate bedspread.

  Lorenzo hung the towels back in the bathroom. They really should dry up all the drops of water scattered everywhere, but it wasn’t a murder scene. They’d dry by themselves as long as no one came over there today.

  “There’s no way I’m letting you walk back after those sinister texts you were sent.”

  He had a point. Given the alarming events going on lately, she shouldn’t be walking about unattended. Which made it awfully difficult to carry on a clandestine affair. “Maybe you could drop me right at the gate. Then I can walk up the drive under the full view of the guards.” The guards at the gate wouldn’t know Lorenzo from anyone else.

  “Deal.”

  They drove slowly through town, and Beatriz found herself wondering if anyone glancing her way would be able to see how she’d spent her afternoon. As they pulled onto the road toward the palace she started to get nervous. “You won’t kiss me at the gate.”

  “Is that an order?” He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

  “I think so.” She felt sheepish about how her anxiety had come out, but for someone to see them kissing would be a disaster. “I don’t want anyone to start asking questions.”

  “I understand.” He looked straight ahead. “I’ll be the very soul of discretion.”

/>   They approached the big gates at the end of the drive, where two guards always sat in the guard house. As Lorenzo drew close to the closed gate he started to roll the window down. “Don’t roll it down!” she gasped. “I don’t want them to talk to you.”

  “Goodness. Anyone would think I was a wanted criminal.” She saw a smile tug at his mouth.

  “They’re so nosy—the guards—it’s their job.” Beatriz immediately unbuckled her seat belt and got ready to leap out with a curt goodbye.

  But the guards approached the car and tapped on Lorenzo’s window. She leaped out and was about to slam the door and walk through the pedestrian gate when one guard said, “Princess Beatriz! I didn’t realize it was you. Please drive on.” And the big gates started to open.

  “Oh, no. It’s okay. I can walk from here.”

  “That’s not necessary,” said the guard. “Do drive.”

  Rather than make a scene she got back in the car, panic spiking through her. “Drive,” she whispered.

  Lorenzo, who appeared to be fighting a smile, drove.

  “I’m sorry to be so rude.” She realized how she must sound. “But this kind of thing makes me so nervous.”

  “It’s okay, I understand.” He didn’t look rattled. “It’s not easy being a princess with a large entourage snooping on you everywhere you go.”

  “Tell me about it.” She peered ahead as they drove down the long, tree-lined drive. As soon as they got to the courtyard, she leaped out. “I had a wonderful time,” she whispered. “And thanks for the dress.” She held the precious black bag in her hand.”

  “You’re more than welcome. I’ll call you.”

  She didn’t hang around for more pleasantries—or for anyone in the family to spot his car from the window—but struck out for the front steps, clutching her bag and trying to make up a story about where it was from.

  The front door opened before she got there to reveal Darias looking uncharacteristically agitated. “Beatriz! My God, we’ve been worried sick. Where were you? Mom was calling you two hours ago, and we couldn’t find you. We called the castle to see if you’d gone there, but they said you never showed up. The groom said he saw you walking out the side gate into the woods. We’ve had guards combing the woods.”

  “I’m fine, as you can see.” She steeled herself. “I just went shopping.”

  “Who was that in the Audi?”

  “Just a friend.” She could never think on her feet in these situations. “I bought a dress.”

  Ack. She hated herself for lying, but she’d rather die than explain the whole situation, especially since things had gotten so out of hand with Lorenzo. Her body still throbbed and pulsed in places she’d almost forgotten existed. All she wanted to do was run to her room and collapse.

  “Thank goodness you’re okay, sweetheart.” Her mom appeared behind him. “I can’t believe you went out without an escort after Gibran warned us not to.”

  “I’m fine.” Now was not the time to mention the strange texts. “I’m tired. Is it okay if I go to my room or do I need an armed guard to accompany me?”

  Darias laughed. “Sorry, sis. You just had us freaked again. Are you living a double life?”

  “If I was trying to I wouldn’t get very far with you guys on my case.” She managed a shaky smile. She walked past them and headed for the stairs, clutching the bag with her dress.

  “You were out in a blue Audi the other day when Anna the cook saw you in town.”

  She kept walking.

  “Who were you with?”

  “No one important.” With that she turned into the upstairs hallway and rushed for her door. Right now she was mad at Lorenzo for insisting on driving her home. She’d almost rather be accosted by an unknown assailant than be interrogated by all her family members at once—and if history was any guide, they wouldn’t stop until they figured out who was driving the car.

  I have to tell security about the texts. Beatriz had hung the dress in the back of her closet, showered again—this time washing her hair, which had still smelled tauntingly of Lorenzo—and battened on her usual bland expression. But now her heart was pounding.

  How much did she have to tell them?

  She walked into the living room, where her mom sat with Emma and Serena, while Serena’s cute little dog Lucky sniffed at the antique rug. “Um, any idea where I can find Gibran?”

  Her mom’s eyes widened. “Gibran? Why? What’s wrong?”

  Beatriz struggled to keep her expression neutral. “Nothing really. I just wanted to ask him a question.”

  “I have his number programmed into my phone. Here.” Emma thrust her phone out.

  Beatriz copied the number into her phone, wondering why she hadn’t put it there already. “Thanks.”

  She made to leave the room so she could call him. She didn’t want to scare her mom.

  “Don’t go too far, love. Dinner will be ready any moment.”

  “I won’t.” She went into a little-used pool room and closed the door, then she dialed Gibran’s number. “Hi, it’s Beatriz. I’m sure it’s no big deal, but I thought I should tell you about some texts I got earlier.” She explained the situation, saying that she’d left the stables for a walk in the woods—implying that she was on her horse but not actually stating it.

  “I need to see your phone. I’ll meet you in the pool room.”

  Beatriz’s blood ran cold. How did Gibran know where she was right now? “Uh, okay.”

  She deleted the entire thread of messages from Lorenzo in her phone—which made her a little sad—and also edited her logged calls to remove any calls from him. Then she pulled up the strange texts. A knock on the door made her jump, which didn’t make any sense but she was so wound up.

  “Let me see.” Gibran was so gruff and straightforward, unlike everyone else she’d met. Someone had told her he was the illegitimate son of a king in his homeland, which was actually worse than being the older female twin who wouldn’t inherit. She’d probably like him if she wasn’t so scared of him.

  She thrust her phone forward. Gibran squinted at the short exchange. “Me too? Why would he start with that. What was he replying to?”

  Beatriz opened her mouth. Then closed it. She’d typed, “I’m here,” to Lorenzo, but now that whole thread was gone. If she told him that he’d know she was hiding something. Now she wished she hadn’t deleted the Lorenzo thread. “I think he was able to read another text I sent to someone else.”

  “Where’s that?”

  She swallowed and felt a pulse start to pound in her temple. Why did she have to be so secretive about Lorenzo? For once in her life she’d met someone who really seemed to care about her. Someone who wanted to listen to her ideas. Someone who even found her attractive. It wasn’t fair that her family was prejudiced against him.

  But she wasn’t going to lie. “I deleted it.”

  “Why?” His expression didn’t change.

  She chewed her lip. “It was to someone my brother Darias doesn’t like. A man. I met with him yesterday.”

  “Why doesn’t Darias like him?” Again, stone-faced.

  “He’s from an old rival family. Some nonsense that goes back for centuries. Honestly, I don’t get it. If Darias finds out he’ll think he’s trying to use me or hurt me.”

  “Hmmph.” Gibran grunted. “Mind if I pull that thread back up?”

  “Once it’s deleted? You can do that?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t even look at her.

  “Okay.” Her voice was a shaky whisper. She watched, silent and almost tearful as Gibran managed to resurrect her thread of messages with Lorenzo.

  “What’s this about a dress?”

  “I designed one, and he helped me get it made.” She squeezed the words out reluctantly.

  Gibran stared at her. “That’s it? Why the secrecy? Why would you delete the messages?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t want the rest of the family to know about the dress. They’ll laugh at me. My dad hated the
idea of me designing clothes.” She attempted to appeal to his royal-outsider side. “When you’re royal people have all kinds of stupid ideas about who you should and shouldn’t be. It’s nothing important, really.”

  Gibran’s gaze remained steady. Then “hmmph” again. He handed her phone back. “I have no need to tell anyone about the dress, but I don’t advise keeping any relationships a secret right now. There’s too much at stake. And you really mustn’t leave the palace without an escort. I’ve assigned Nina Hagen to protect you at all times.”

  “I know.”

  “So why didn’t you alert her that you were leaving?”

  Beatriz swallowed. “I guess I forgot.”

  “We think there are elements within the palace working against the family, so be on your guard.”

  “I will. Do you mean staff members?”

  “I do. We’re interviewing them, but most have been here for years and it’s very hard to identify anyone suspicious.”

  “You think a staff member could have dug up the bodies and cut off—” She couldn’t even say it.

  “We do. Come to me immediately if you have any suspicions, no matter how small. Did anyone see you leaving the stables?”

  “Matteo was around somewhere. He usually is. He’s the only groom left in the stables. He’s been with the palace for years, maybe his entire working life.” This was true of many staffers. Palace jobs were the most prized employment in Altaleone because they paid well and came with a handsome pension. She had no idea how old Matteo was, maybe late thirties or early forties? He wasn’t chatty, at least not with her. He was more of a man’s man.

  “I’ll look into him more closely.”

  “I’m sure he wasn’t involved. He was very close to my father.” She shuddered at the idea that anyone close to them could be considered a real suspect. But at least Gibran wasn’t asking probing questions about her and Lorenzo. No one needed to know they’d made love.

  A hot memory of their time together assaulted her and she felt heat rise up her neck. “Can I go back to the living room? If I’m late for dinner my mom will worry.”