Isabella had suggested they play board games.
She groaned at the memory. How out of touch was she with men and romance that this idea hadn’t occurred to her?
Except that was a lie, and Isabella tried hard not to lie—even to herself.
She had thought about it, from the moment she’d seen Matteo standing above her on the balcony and known he was supposed to be her perfect match. She’d thought about it every time he stood close enough for her to feel the heat of his skin or smell his cologne. Every time she’d brushed past him to retrieve the dice when they were playing. Every time he’d smiled at her or watched her enjoy dessert. She’d just been too scared of what that meant to even consider doing anything about the thought.
Now, snuggled down on the cool, crisp sheets, Isabella stopped trying to ignore the possibility, and let herself think about it properly.
One week. No rules, no prying eyes, no consequences.
For this one week she could cut loose. And if she wanted, she could take Matteo as a lover—bring him to her bed and let him worship her body, and explore his in return. He’d made it clear that was how he’d choose to spend this week, rather than playing Monopoly.
She supposed that was a fairly common thing for him. She was sure his daredevil attitude to life continued into his romantic entanglements, too. She hadn’t followed his career particularly closely, but even she’d seen enough clips on the Internet or in papers to know that he never dated the same woman twice, but always had a beauty on his arm whenever he wanted one. Picking up a woman for a week of debauchery and seduction was probably par for the course in his downtime.
But for her...
She hadn’t been with a man since Nate, and even that had been a lie. She wasn’t a virgin, but she definitely wasn’t experienced, either. And honestly, since Nate she hadn’t really been interested in anyone all. She knew there were plenty of stories on Augustian social media about her love life, but they were all fabrications.
Her heart had been broken, and her faith in people severely dented, by her first foray into love. It was one of the reasons she’d been so unsure about the whole idea of her ‘perfect match’ in the first place.
Except that wasn’t what she was here for, and it wasn’t what Matteo was offering, either.
He was offering a week of giving in to the chemistry between them. A week of pleasure, she was sure. A week of fun, strings-free.
And she wanted it. She had to admit that much to herself.
But was she brave enough to take it? Even knowing what had happened last time she’d let go in such a way?
She wasn’t sure. And by the time she fell asleep that night she still hadn’t decided.
Her dreams were filled with unfamiliar images—and feelings. The water of Lake Geneva, lapping around her. The scent of the flowers that grew in the pots on the balcony, mingled with the more familiar lavender of her pillows, and a spicy, new scent that she knew was Matteo himself.
Skin on skin, slick with water and want. That was all she remembered when she awoke, unsatisfied and frustrated, from a night of dreams.
And now she had to face him again.
Great.
Isabella took her time washing and dressing, trying to scrub the dreams from her body in case Matteo could see them on her, somehow. Or smell them, perhaps, the way she dreamt she could still smell him in the air around her.
But eventually she had to admit to herself that she was just postponing the inevitable. She had the whole rest of the week here in this glorious villa, beside this beautiful lake, with Matteo. Not making the most of it would be a terrible waste.
Throwing open the doors to the shared balcony that joined their bedrooms, Isabella let the morning air rush in, and felt her own breath rush out.
Once again, Matteo was already sitting at the table on the balcony. There were shadows under his eyes that suggested his sleep might have been as disturbed as her own. But he looked up as she appeared, and a slow smile spread across his face at the sight of her, making him look instantly younger. More free.
Was he remembering that moment last night, too? The one when he’d been close enough for her to kiss, if she’d moved her head just ever so slightly? Was he thinking about the suggestion he’d made to her?
The smirk on his face suggested he probably was.
‘Good morning,’ he said, his voice low and warm. ‘Sleep well?’
She took her seat. ‘Like a baby.’ It wasn’t a lie. Babies were notoriously bad sleepers, weren’t they?
‘Me too.’ The smirk hadn’t gone anywhere. ‘So, how are we going to spend our second day in secluded paradise? Chess? Poker?’
He was teasing her now, but she didn’t rise to it. Instead, she looked out over the lake, the balcony suddenly claustrophobic, despite all the fresh air. This villa was huge, and she knew that if she asked for space Matteo would give it to her. He wasn’t the kind of man to press where he wasn’t wanted, she could tell that already from the way he’d backed off last night after the merest suggestion of more.
The problem was, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted him to keep backing off. But she wasn’t certain enough to let him in, either.
She wanted him; she wasn’t lying to herself about that any more. But it was so against The Rules. And beyond anything she’d let herself want for so long—ever since Nate. The desire she felt for Matteo...it was overwhelming, and terrifying.
And it felt amazing, all the same.
She stared out over the water and the mountains in the distance. The June air was warm and welcoming, but the breeze from the water kept things fresh in the shady trees that surrounded the villa.
She didn’t want to be trapped inside today—otherwise, this villa was no better than the palace in Augusta that she’d escaped from.
Maybe she wasn’t ready to take the risk of letting Matteo in quite yet. But perhaps she could take the tiny risk of letting herself out. Just a little bit.
One small first step towards where she was almost ready to admit she really wanted to go.
To bed, with Matteo.
Isabella placed her empty coffee cup down on her saucer. ‘I’m going for a walk, down by the lake,’ she said, before she could change her mind. That would give her time and space to keep figuring out what she wanted from this week. Time away from the allure of Matteo’s smile, or those green eyes that pulled her in whenever she caught them.
Matteo grinned. ‘Great! I’ll come with you.’
There was a narrow path, leading away from the villa in the opposite direction from the easier one he’d taken for yesterday’s walk, down the slope of the ground to the water’s edge. Matteo hopped down it easily, hands in his pockets, then looked back to find Isabella picking her way along the uneven ground more cautiously.
‘Need a hand?’ He stretched out his arm to offer his assistance, but Isabella shook her head.
‘I’m fine.’
That was a lie if ever he’d heard one. Oh, not with the path—he was sure she was more than capable of making her way down that alone.
But Princess Isabella of Augusta was not fine.
Perhaps it was just being away from the palace and out on her own for what, he imagined, had to be the first time in a long time. But he suspected it had more to do with the ideas he’d put in her head over dinner the night before.
She was a princess, not a casual hook-up in his usual fashion, he knew that. But still...they needed to find a way to entertain themselves this week, right? And since his usual methods of adrenaline-seeking were off the table, Matteo could only think of one good one.
Not to mention the fact that the more time he spent with her, the more inevitable them falling into bed together seemed. So why put it off? Why not enjoy the hell out of it while they had the time? Now he’d made the decision, Matteo was done denying what he wanted.
&nbs
p; But back to the Princess.
After he’d retreated to his room the night before, Matteo had done a little internet research. Only natural, really, he figured. After all, she knew who he was, and was presumably familiar with his reputation. It was only fair that he use the tools at his disposal to put them on an equal footing. Thank goodness for high class Wi-Fi in such a remote spot.
Augusta, he’d learned, was a tiny little country—one of those ones squeezed between the bigger, more familiar European powers. Still, its monarchy had its fans—especially the next generation. Matteo was secure enough in his own masculinity to admit that Isabella’s older brother, Leo, the Crown Prince, was handsome, built, and probably the subject of teenage Augustian girl fantasies, despite the fact he’d got married a few years before. Her sister, too, was married off, as were all the cousins and second cousins—at least, the ones over twenty-one.
Isabella, at twenty-eight, was already gaining articles about her being ‘on the shelf’, which seemed kind of ridiculous to Matteo, who was already five years older than that and had no intention of marrying any time soon. But it was different for royals, he supposed.
There’d been a short mention of a boyfriend in one of the articles from a few years ago, but nothing much more. And he’d avoided most of the gossipy pieces; he knew from his own experience how inaccurate they could be.
‘Okay?’ he asked as Isabella reached the bottom of the path.
‘Fine,’ she said again.
He wished she’d stop saying that.
Because the thing was, Matteo had only known the Princess for less than forty-eight hours, and he already knew it was a lie. She was beautiful, witty, bright and fun to be around—and he thought that was more to do with her natural personality than her royal training. She didn’t ask the ‘have you travelled far?’ or ‘what do you do?’ questions he’d been asked on being presented to other members of other royal families. She didn’t keep up that screen of polite reserve, of smiling because she was supposed to smile, or listening because she was supposed to listen, not because she was happy or interested.
And yet...she was definitely holding back. He could sense it in the straightness of her back, the way she paused too long before answering his questions. The way uncertainty would flash behind her eyes whenever he got too close.
He’d seen that before—in other women, and in friends, too.
Someone had hurt her. Someone she loved.
Not that it was any of his business, he knew.
And yet...part of him wanted it to be.
She’s just one more challenge, that’s all, he told himself. And she wasn’t even on Giovanni’s list. He needed to let it go.
‘Which way do you want to go?’ he asked as they reached the edge of the water. The path, a little more established here, stretched out in both directions, surrounding this corner of Lake Geneva. To the right, it joined up with the path he thought he’d taken yesterday.
Matteo’s geography was a little rusty, but he seemed to remember that the lake was huge, almost like an ocean between the countries of Switzerland and France. Driving in from the private airfield where he’d landed, he’d passed dozens of small lakeside towns and resorts, before disappearing into the trees that surrounded the villa he and Isabella were staying in.
Maybe he’d persuade Isabella to go explore some of them with him one day, once she trusted him a little more.
‘That way.’ She pointed to the left, seemingly randomly, but as they broke out of the tree cover Matteo decided it was a good choice, all the same. Up ahead was a small jetty, seemingly attached to their villa, since there were no other residences in sight. A speedboat, painted in white and blue, was moored up beside it practically calling his name; he would have to take that out on the water this week. Maybe he could even convince Isabella to join him in that adventure, if she wouldn’t risk the towns...
There was also, he realised somewhat belatedly, another, much easier path down from this side of the villa. Oh, well; coming down the forest path had been an adventure. And wasn’t that what he was known for?
‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?’ Isabella said.
He looked at her. The June sun beat down on her dark curls, making them shine so brightly they were almost white where the light hit. Her face was tilted up towards the sky, soaking in the warmth, her arms loose at her sides and her white cotton sundress dancing around her calves in the slight breeze.
She was beautiful. Never mind the damn lake.
Again, he felt that tug of lust down low in his belly, the one he’d been vaguely conscious of since the moment he first saw her, standing with her back to him on the terrace. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ he replied, a beat too late.
Isabella turned to him and smiled. ‘I’ll race you to the jetty.’
And before he could even process her words, she was already running, racing towards the slatted wooden platform that jutted out over the water.
He could have caught her easily, if he’d started moving immediately. But instead he took a moment to watch her run, her hair flowing in the wind, her curved calves flashing under her thin white skirt.
Then he caught her.
In a few long strides, he reached her side and, as they approached the jetty, wrapped an arm around her waist to catch her, pulling her body tight against his as she laughed and he grinned against the warmth of her hair.
It was a game, a moment of lightness and fun...and then it changed.
Like a cloud passing over the sun, Matteo felt all the playfulness of the moment disappear in a shadow of an instant.
Her curves pressed against the planes of his body, soft and yielding in his arms, and for a second he almost forgot there was clothing between them at all. Her hair smelled of roses and sunshine, and it overwhelmed his senses. He heard her breath hitch in her throat and realised that he’d stopped breathing altogether.
He’d known she was beautiful. But like this, pressed against him as if the only place she belonged was in his arms...she was so much more.
She was magnificent.
He should let go. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But how could he when this felt so right?
‘Matteo...’ She twisted her head to look up at him, her tongue darting out to moisten her full lower lip in a way that made him groan with want. He was so instantly, painfully hard, pressed against her, she had to know exactly how he felt. What he wanted. How he needed her.
He’d expected to see uncertainty in her eyes. But when he met her gaze with his own he found only a reflection of his own want.
Lust surged through him as he hauled her up until his mouth met hers. He kissed her the way he’d wanted to since he first saw that lush mouth of hers—deep and hard and as if there were nothing more in the world but the two of them.
And she kissed him back, matching his passion as she turned in his arms, raking her hands up into his hair to hold him closer. God, how had he thought this siren reserved and shy? Instead, she was everything he needed to remind him he was still alive, still had adventures to find, places to explore.
Like her entire naked body. Preferably now. They’d been promised seclusion, right? He hadn’t seen another villa for miles before he reached theirs. No one would see if he stripped her dress from her and made love to her here on the sun-warmed wood, right? And even if they did... Matteo was past caring.
But Isabella was not, it seemed.
As he reached for the straps holding her dress up and slowly pushed them down her arms, she wrenched her mouth away from his at last. Her eyes were still wild, her hair curling in all directions where he’d been running his hands through it. And her mouth—those gorgeous plump lips—was swollen from his kiss.
Matteo started to drop his hands from her body, but she grabbed them before he could, holding them between them, crushed against her breasts. His fingers itched to reach out
and stroke the line of her neck, down past her collarbone and under the white cotton of her dress. But he made himself wait and listen.
This, he assumed, was where she told him all the reasons this was a bad idea, reminded him that she was a princess, so could never think of acting on the obvious attraction between them. He tried to prepare himself for the inevitable, even though his body was clearly still far more optimistic than his mind.
And then the Princess said, ‘Race you to a bed.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ISABELLA DROPPED HIS HANDS, turned and started to run.
She had no real hope of being able to outrun Matteo—not that she really wanted to, for long. But if she acted fast enough, perhaps she could outrun the voice in her head reminding her of all the reasons that this was a terrible idea.
She didn’t care. Not right now. And maybe that would come back to bite her later, but she’d deal with that then.
This was her week of freedom. Her week to be Isabella, not the Princess. Her week to find her own happiness, her own pleasure.
And from just one kiss, she already knew that Matteo Rossi could give her a hell of a lot more pleasure than anyone else in her life ever had.
Her blood pounded in her ears as she raced up the path towards the house—the simple, straight one, not the one through the trees they’d come down. She wasn’t wasting any time getting back to the villa now she’d made her decision.
No, she hadn’t decided. More...followed her instincts, for once.
From the moment Matteo had caught her, the instant she’d felt his body against hers, she’d known she was done fighting the attraction between them. Because if she left this villa at the end of the week without sampling everything he was offering, she knew that she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
She could hear Matteo’s thudding footsteps on the path behind her, slow and steady, as she approached the villa. He was pacing himself, of course. He didn’t want to beat her, and he wanted to save his energy for what would happen when he did catch her.
Isabella allowed herself a small, secret smile at the thought. God, she couldn’t wait for him to catch her.
The Princess and the Rebel Billionaire Page 5