“I should give you credit for having the vision. I didn’t really think of it until you started talking about this place.”
“It’s my business to spot potential in neglected real estate.” He kissed her softly again. “And even perhaps in people.”
“Like me?” Her eyes opened.
“Like you.” He nuzzled her gently, the stubble of his face tickling her skin. “I know you’re a princess, but I had a hunch you were still in tight bud form and needed some encouragement to open up and blossom in all your glory.”
Beatriz giggled. Joy unfurled in her chest at how apt his image was. “It seems you were right. At least I’ve started the unfurling process.”
“You’re well on your way to full bloom.” A warm grin spread across his face. “And I’m enjoying every glorious minute of it. Has Signora Pazzi’s team started on your new designs yet?”
“They’re almost done. She’s hired a model for next Tuesday so I can see them in action. Would you like to come?”
“I’d love it.” He laid a warm kiss on her lips. “I can’t wait until all of Milan—all of the fashion world—can see what my beautiful Beatriz is capable of.”
A twinge of nerves tightened her stomach. “What if they hate my designs?”
“Impossible.” He lifted a brow. “Remember how I told you I can spot potential?”
“Yes,” she said slowly.
“I see the potential for a very successful fashion brand in your designs. You have an eye for what flatters a woman.”
“I think you’re the expert in flattery,” she teased.
“It’s not flattery if it’s the honest truth.” He lowered his arms to around her waist. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really. We had a big lunch in town.”
“Me too. I vote that we skip dinner and head right to bed.” Mischief danced in his gray eyes.
“We are conveniently located to do that,” she said primly, fighting a smile.
He’d already started to peel off her black sweater, lifting it up over her head and exposing her bra. Her fingers reached for his belt. It was easy to forget all the chaos outside when she was alone with Lorenzo. He made her feel complete.
She slid his pants down his legs, and he stepped out of them. “Lie down on the bed,” she commanded softly.
She looked up to see a slight smile cross his face. “Yes, your majesty.”
He spread his magnificent body across the white bedcovers. Muscled and tanned, he looked good enough to eat. She shrugged out of her clothes and climbed over him and began to kiss him all over.
She let her tongue explore the hollows between his muscles, and her lips trail over the hard ridges. The scent of him, warm and musky and all male, sent her senses into overdrive. Finally she took him in her mouth and sucked, feeling a thrill at giving him pleasure. Who’d have thought that quiet, bookish Beatriz would find herself in bed with such an exciting man?
Her sense of power and joy grew along with his obvious arousal. When a thick groan escaped him, she slid her tongue along his length, then climbed on top of him, taking him inside her. She’d quietly gone on contraception so they no longer had to worry about condoms.
She eased herself slowly down on top of him, feeling him inside her, filling her. His eyes were closed, and his handsome face relaxed in a blissful expression. She loved that he encouraged her to take charge—not just of their bodies but her life. She rode him, tentatively at first, then with passion and excitement as sensations and emotions rose inside her.
She’d never dreamed she’d be lucky enough to meet a man like Lorenzo: brilliant, handsome and confident. On the fairly frequent occasions she’d been fixed up with someone, it was always a dull blue blood whose only claim to fame or success was his family connections. Those brief relationships had been stilted and disappointing. And now—all by herself—she’d found a man that any woman would be excited to call her own.
My own. Lorenzo had stuck by her through all the family drama. He held his head high through all the suspicion and doubt and name calling because he knew—as she did—that he was above all that.
His hands roamed up and down her arms as he writhed with pleasure beneath her, until suddenly he gripped and she felt his climax rip through them both with volcanic force. Her own climax followed, and she felt her inner muscles grip him as explosive waves of sensation shook her.
She collapsed onto his chest, panting, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “My Beatriz. My beautiful Beatriz.” His words caused a further shudder deep inside her, in her heart as well as lower.
I love you.
She wanted to say it but caught herself at the last moment. Her upbringing had taught her to be cautious and guarded. She’d learned early on to expect people to try to take advantage of her because she was royal and wealthy, and even now, in the arms of her lover, those same warnings flashed somewhere deep in her brain.
He had to say it first.
But would he?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next day Lorenzo left early to catch a flight and she debated whether to tell Gibran, or even Nina, about the text. She decided not to.
“Everything okay?” asked Nina when she came down to breakfast.
“Great.” She pushed a confident smile to her lips. This was her time to build her dream, and she wasn’t going to be distracted or derailed by family drama or outside interference.
There were only two weeks left before the show. All the clothes needed to be finished and the models styled. She’d sent out rather mysterious invitations without her name on them and contacted agencies to secure models, but as a new, unnamed designer, the response hadn’t been great and there was still a lot to do to make the show a success. It was a huge undertaking, and since she was determined to keep the whole endeavor secret as long as possible, she’d be doing much of it herself—with help from Lorenzo and his list of experienced contacts.
And she’d applied to the fashion institute in Milan. She didn’t tell a soul—even Lorenzo, who thought it was a waste of time for someone in her position. She craved the in-depth knowledge of materials, techniques and fashion history she could acquire only from being a true student. She wanted to be able to cut and sew like Signora Pazzi, even if she then hired someone else to do it. Otherwise she knew she’d always feel like an imposter, a princess playing the role of fashion designer as a hobby.
She made breakfast under Nina’s watchful eye. “I’m going to ride my horse at ten, then head out to Milan.” She was visiting a modeling agency that afternoon to choose some models for the show. Competition for top models was stiff during fashion week.
“As usual.” Nina smiled.
“It must get boring for you. I’m sorry. Do you want some coffee?”
“No, thanks, and I’m not bored. This is my job. As long as you’re safe, I’m happy.”
Beatriz felt a twinge of guilt for not telling her about the text from last night, but really, what good would it do?
“Does anyone ever ask you where I go all day?”
“I have to file a report of my activities—and by extension your activities—with Gibran. Other than that no one has asked me anything.”
“I suppose we’ve all become used to having a security detail.”
“It’s probably easy when you’re used to having servants around all the time.”
“I suppose so.” Beatriz sipped her coffee. “But we don’t call them servants anymore. We prefer the term staff.” Nina stared at her. “Though maybe no one cares except us. Regardless, I appreciate your discretion. I haven’t told my family the reason why I’m spending so much time in Milan.” Maybe it was time to confide in Nina. Everyone would know sooner or later. “I’m putting together a collection of clothes for Milan fashion week. Please don’t tell anyone, okay!”
“I won’t. I’ll keep your secrets.” Nina looked pleased to be privy to this privileged information. “But won’t they find out sooner or later?”
“Al
l in good time.”
The collection was for the following fall and winter, and Beatriz had distilled her ideas down to a single clear theme of sleek black and silver essentials and accessories with simple, clean lines and inventive textures.
She and Lorenzo had consulted with an event planner over the show itself and were assured that the affair would be as elegant as her collection. The guest list was more challenging and had involved a lot of late nights looking up the names of important fashion journalists and influential buyers.
“Anna Wintour? Is she really going to come?” Beatriz had looked down the sofa toward Lorenzo, who was giving her a foot massage.
“Only if you invite her.” He kissed her foot. “You know what I always say…”
“Aim high.”
“Exactly.”
She shivered at the sensation of his lips on the arch of her foot. “I’d never dare do any of this if it wasn’t for you.”
“Then I’m glad to be here. I’d be glad to be here even if I wasn’t encouraging and supporting a talented designer about to make her debut, but that does add some sparkle to the experience.”
A talented designer. All her life she’d been the dull one. The bluestocking princess who coasted through life on her famous name and her family fortune. She’d never stunned anyone with her talent, and despite being reputedly “bookish” she wasn’t actually academic. She just loved to read books and no one paid you money or gave you awards for that, did they?
But now she—with the help of Lorenzo—had found something she was actually good at. Signora Pazzi loved her designs and said they were surprisingly easy to cut and sew because they moved so naturally with the body. The models who came to the atelier had oohed and ahhed over how comfortable they were. This late in the game it would be tricky to secure any top models for the show, but the agency said that if they revealed her real identity—which would have to happen sooner or later—they’d have their pick.
One night, after a long day in Milan, she drew in a breath, nerves spiking. “Do you think it’s time for me to come out of the closet?”
“You’re a lesbian?” He lifted a brow.
“Only in your kinky fantasies.” She kicked him gently with the foot he’d been massaging. “I mean…do you think it’s time to connect my name to the show?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” He’d been lounging on the sofa, but he sat up. “I’ve been longing for you to be ready to bask in the spotlight.”
“I’m nervous.” The idea terrified her. “And I’d have to tell my family first. What if they’re horrified and want me to cancel?”
“It’s far too late for that. The show is less than two weeks away. And if you come out now it’ll bring in some top names who still have your invitation in their stack of ‘maybes.’ ”
“It could get me some big-name models too.”
“That’s great for getting publicity.” Lorenzo looked ready to spring into action. “Shall we put together a press release? I can have my assistants distribute it as soon as you’ve broken the news to your family.”
“A press release. Goodness, that sounds so…official.”
“It is official, my love. It’s happening. You’ve created a stunning collection, and you’re going to be the hottest show in town. I think you should put your name on it as soon as possible.”
Excitement mingled with nerves. The prospect of actually being respected, maybe even admired, for something that she’d done warred with the loss of the privacy she cherished. “What if people want to interview me? I’d be so nervous.”
“You can tell them there will be no interviews until after the show. That’ll heighten the sense of mystery. They’ll be ten deep in the standing room.”
Beatriz drew in a breath. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
The next day at dinner, she sat at the table with her mom, Darias and Emma, also Sandro and Serena, who were in town to make arrangements for their upcoming wedding. Thank goodness Aunt Liesel had finally gone home. Her only regret was that Lorenzo wasn’t by her side. He’d held firm about not talking to Gibran or anyone else involved in the criminal investigation, and a local judge had upheld his right to refuse an interview. Those inside the palace who knew of his refusal still took a very dim view of it.
But Beatriz knew they’d change their minds about him once they knew how much he’d done to support her in pursuing her dream.
“What’s going on?” Lina passed a plate of tiny appetizers that the chef had prepared as samples for the wedding. Beatriz took a salmon puff pastry. “You said you had something to tell us.”
“Please God don’t let it be that you’ve eloped with Lorenzo Aldobrando,” said Darias, passing the hors d’oeuvres to Serena.
“Darias! Don’t be so mean.” Lina scolded him. “Beatriz is entitled to do what ever she wants. She’s a grown woman.”
“Thank you, Mama.” Her mom’s warm support of her never wavered. If she ever became a mom she wanted to be just like her. Darias’s cold remark did, however, remind her of the kind of thing she might have said in his place. She’d been suspicious of his instant bride, especially after she found the contract between them—outlining their obligations to each other for the term of one year.
“Well, have you?” Darias took a bite of a sausage pastry.
“It’s nothing to do with Lorenzo.” She sucked in a breath, heart pounding. Was she really going to tell them? “Well, not really. I’m designing a line of clothing.”
Silence.
“That’s wonderful,” said Lina. “For you to wear? Is Alphonse making them?”
Great. Her mom assumed she was designing her own summer wardrobe, like a true little princess. “Actually it’s for anyone to buy. I’m planning a show for fashion week in Milan.”
“But that’s this month,” said Sandro with an amused smile. “Serena and I are planning to go to Armani and Dolce & Gabbana.”
She looked around the table. No one thought she was serious. She straightened her shoulders and forged ahead. “My show is on the twenty-ninth. It’s a collection of fall and winter wear, and I’d love for you all to come.”
“Did Lorenzo put you up to this?” asked Darias.
Beatriz resisted the urge to throw something at him. “It’s something I’ve dreamed of since I was little. I’ve always designed clothes, I just didn’t show them to anyone. He encouraged me to get one of my designs made, and it all built from there.” She spoke fast and grew louder as she went. “The entire collection is in the final stages at an atelier in Milan, and the venue for the show is booked and it’s happening.”
She looked around. More silence, this time the stunned-into-silence variety. “What? You can’t believe I’m capable of it? You think it’s going to be a disaster?”
“No, sweetheart, of course not.” Her mom’s usually smooth brow was furrowed. “But you know how hard the media can be on us.”
“Is that all you can think of? No one’s even interested in seeing my designs?” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “I have some right here, which I’d show you if anyone cared. Which I guess you don’t. At least Lorenzo is supportive.”
She felt Darias bristle.
“Well, it’s true. Dad laughed at me when I said I wanted to study fashion. None of you were supportive, either. If I’d told any of you about my plans for this show, you would have talked me out of it, like you’re almost trying to do now, except that it’s too late because the show is going ahead. The press releases are ready to go out, and I just wanted to let you know before it goes public.”
“You could use a brand name, you know,” offered Sandro. “So no one knows it’s you.”
“That’s what I intended to do, but now that it’s here I’m proud of my collection and I want people to know I made it. Why shouldn’t I get to put my name on my own work? People think it’s so great being a princess, but really it’s just an excuse for people to ignore everything about you except that you’re a princess.”
“And being
a princess will be great publicity for your show,” said Serena. “It’ll get you more attention.”
“Of the wrong kind,” muttered Darias.
“Not necessarily,” said Serena. “And sometimes even the wrong kind of attention can have the right results. All the drama over my surprise pregnancy and sudden royal engagement blew up into a big book deal.” Serena was a blogger who had lived her life in the public eye even before she’d met Sandro. “My channel has never been more popular, and I’m getting opportunities that wouldn’t have come my way before.”
Sandro had walked around the table and now wrapped his arms around Beatriz. “I think it’s wonderful, Bea. You’ve always been an artist. I bet the show is going to be fabulous. Can I see your photos?”
Once she started passing her phone around and they could see she was not only serious but talented and accomplished, their attitude changed. Her mom got tears in her eyes and kissed her. “You have to promise me I can buy that leather coat, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.” Beatriz found herself getting choked up.
“And I want the feather stole,” said Serena. “And those black pants with the silver pinstripe. I was just on a New York late-night show and that would have been amazing to wear. I might get invited again closer to the wedding.”
“Serena gets great publicity,” said Sandro proudly. “They never want to say anything bad about her.”
“I think it’s my Cinderella story,” she said with a chuckle. “And who wants to be mean to a pregnant lady?” Sandro and Serena’s baby was due at the end of September.
“That’s true,” said Lina with a smile. “They wait until afterward when you can’t lose the weight fast enough. But since you still look perfect you won’t have that problem.”
“Did that really happen?” asked Beatriz.
“Oh, yes.” Lina grinned. “Every time. My only comeback was to get pregnant again as soon as possible.”
“How do you still look so fabulous after having five sets of twins?” Serena looked genuinely curious.
Lina leaned toward her. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had a tummy tuck five years ago.” She winked. “I think they removed about a yard of extra skin.”
The Princess's Scandalous Affair (Royal House of Leone Book 4) Page 15