The Princess and the Rebel Billionaire

by Sophie Pembroke

  Even if he had wanted to follow up on this dream date matching, once the week was over, it wasn’t what Isabella wanted either. She wanted to go back to a life he could never be a part of. Her stifling, royal life.

  So really, there was no point thinking about what happened after this week until it was over. There’d be another adventure waiting for him and he’d take it, as he always did. Giovanni’s list might be finished, but there were more adventures that his brother had never even dreamed of. Not to mention a racing career to get back to. He still had two lives to live, to make the most of, for Giovanni’s sake.

  All the same, when he heard movement out on the balcony that linked his bedroom to Isabella’s, he couldn’t help but head straight for the door.

  Three days.

  He couldn’t afford to waste any of them.

  ‘When do you think they put this out here?’ Isabella didn’t turn around as she asked the question, her back still towards him. Apparently she was as attuned to his movements as he was to hers.

  He turned his gaze from the way her curls were swept over one bare shoulder, above a thin, strapless sundress that clung to her curves down over her hips, then flared out to swirl around her legs to mid-calf. On the table in the centre of the balcony was another feast, ready for their evening meal. How had the servants got that there without him noticing? Okay, he’d been preoccupied with his thoughts of Isabella, but still...

  ‘The staff here are starting to get a little creepy now.’ He took his seat, grinning up at her as she laughed.

  ‘Well, as long as they keep the food coming.’

  ‘True.’ She sat down opposite him, the evening sunlight sinking into her midnight hair, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in real life—and the most unattainable.

  Yeah, there was no way he was going to be forgetting Isabella of Augusta any time soon.

  Which meant he had to make sure she didn’t forget him, either.

  They’d do this on the terms they’d agreed—one week, then it never happened. But while the rest of the world might never know about their week, he needed to be sure that Isabella would keep it with her. Maybe even let it loosen her up a bit.

  It was the one thing he could give her. A parting gift, say.

  They ate their meal in companionable silence, their only conversation comments on the food, or the wine. But under their sparse words, Matteo could feel all the things they weren’t saying.

  Would they really make it the whole week without any of them coming out? He doubted it.

  ‘I was thinking about tomorrow,’ he said as Isabella finished off her chocolate dessert.

  He loved watching her eat, loved the secret smile as her mouth curved around her dessert spoon and she savoured the taste. He knew now that she looked the same way when she wrapped her mouth around him, and he knew also that he’d never forget that. The image of her sinking down to her knees in front of him, hands on his thighs as she eyed him up, was burnt into his memory for ever. Thankfully.

  She swallowed her dessert, and he swallowed his thoughts.

  ‘What about tomorrow?’ she asked.

  ‘How would you feel about another little adventure?’

  Before you go back to locking yourself up in that palace again.

  She froze, just for a moment, her eyes darting to one side as she formed her response. ‘An adventure? What sort of an adventure?’

  He was pushing her, faster than she wanted to go. But they had so little time left...

  ‘I thought we could slip away from here, take my car out to the nearest town, have a look around?’ How could they come all the way to Lake Geneva and not see anything more than a villa and the water and the views? ‘You know I’m not one for sitting around, doing nothing. And as you so rightly pointed out, we can’t spend all week in bed. So we need to find some other things to do. Right?’

  Isabella wasn’t looking so sure, however.

  ‘What about our security detail?’ That wasn’t a no. He’d take it.

  He flashed her his most wicked grin. ‘Cara, I’m a racing-car driver. If you think I can’t lose two guys in a big black car on these roads, you really haven’t been paying attention.’

  Isabella clamped her sun hat to her head with one hand and grabbed hold of the car seat beneath her with the other. Oh, how on earth had he got her to agree to this?

  Actually, she admitted to herself, she knew exactly how. He’d fed her the remains of his chocolate pudding, then moved the table aside to kiss her—first her mouth, then her neck, then down to her breasts, pulling the elasticated top of her strapless dress to her waist, effortlessly. Just as she’d imagined him doing when she’d put it on that evening.

  And then he’d pulled the whole thing down her body, nudging her to lift her hips from the chair so he could drag the fabric down her legs, slow enough to drive her crazy as he followed it with his kisses...

  Isabella blushed at the memory, but she had to admit it had been convincing. She’d agreed to today’s day trip easily, breathlessly, by the time he was done. She’d let him make love to her out there on the balcony, in full view of anyone who cared to be looking—which she hoped was nobody, but you never really knew with those long lenses, did you? Plus there was the mysterious villa staff, and the security team—

  The security team Matteo had effectively out-driven and lost ten minutes ago, with a driving manoeuvre she’d never seen anyone pull on an actual road before. She was fairly sure it would have got him disqualified on a racetrack, too.

  ‘Where did you learn to drive like that?’ she asked as they took another corner at speed. The road they were on now followed the line of Lake Geneva, past more villas and wooded areas. Hopefully the security team were still circling the lake in the opposite direction, unaware of Matteo’s clever double-back.

  ‘I took a police driving course,’ Matteo said, driving with one hand on the wheel, the other on her thigh. ‘Made friends with one of the instructors, and even got to go out with the polizia a couple of times.’

  ‘Of course, you did.’ Because there was excitement, risk there that he couldn’t find in everyday life. That was what Matteo Rossi lived for, right?

  And now she was living it with him—ditching her security team, heading out to some town she’d never heard of with a man she’d only known a few days... God, she’d been here before when she was young and stupid, and she’d sworn she’d never do anything like this again.

  But then Matteo had stripped her naked on the balcony and made love to her on a blanket until she’d seen metaphorical stars as well as the ones in the sky above her. And suddenly she couldn’t say no to him.

  It really was a good thing that they only had a week together. Any longer and who knew what he’d talk her into? Selling the Crown Jewels of Augusta on eBay to finance a cave-diving trip, or something, probably.

  One week of taking risks with Matteo. She had to admit, it wasn’t what she’d expected from her early summer break.

  Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her sundress, and she pulled it out, not surprised to see Gianna’s number on the screen.

  ‘Tell them you’re fine and you’ll be back later tonight,’ Matteo said as she stared at the ringing phone. ‘It’s easy.’

  Biting her lip, Isabella pressed answer.

  ‘Your Highness? Oh, thank goodness. Is everything okay? The security team at the villa—’

  ‘Everything is fine, Gianna,’ she interrupted, keeping her voice as calm as possible, and hoping Gianna couldn’t tell how far over the speed limit Matteo had been going. He’d slowed down a little now they were away from the villa, enough that she could just about hear Gianna over the rushing air racing over the convertible. ‘You can tell the security team not to worry. We’ll be back tonight.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Despite the wind, Isabella could still hear the worry in her friend’s v
oice.

  She looked over at Matteo behind the wheel, sunglasses in place, smiling as he drove through the Swiss countryside.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m sure.’

  Because it might only be for a week, but she wasn’t ready to start saying ‘no’ to Matteo Rossi just yet.

  Isabella lost track of how long they’d been driving, focused instead on Matteo’s hand on her thigh, and the secret smile on his face under his sunglasses. Was this how normal women felt? Out for a drive with their...no, she wasn’t sure there was a word for what she and Matteo were. Lovers, she supposed, was closest. But somehow it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t...enough, somehow. Which was ridiculous, given that she’d known him all of four and a half days and they’d spent most of that time in bed.

  She focused on his driving instead. She’d never taken lessons, or a test, or even sat behind the wheel of a car. She was always in the back, being driven places, never driving there. Never choosing her destination or even her direction herself.

  She wasn’t now, either, she reminded herself. She had no idea where they were even going. She just hoped that Matteo did.

  ‘There it is,’ he said eventually, and Isabella forced herself to pay attention to her surroundings again, rather than just her thoughts. Here she was, in this most beautiful of locations, and she was—

  ‘Wow!’ She interrupted her own thoughts as she finally took in where they were headed.

  There, jutting out over the water of Lake Geneva, was a castle—a proper, fairy-tale castle.

  ‘I thought it might be rather old hat to you, living in a palace like you do,’ Matteo said, with a grin.

  She smiled back. ‘Not one like this, though.’

  The palace at Augusta was very grand, filled with tapestries and red brocade and family portraits and all the other things royals seemed to need to prove their place in the world. But the truth was the original palace had burnt almost to the ground in the late nineteenth century, and the rebuilt version, while beautiful, didn’t have the history of a place like this. Or the magic.

  ‘What’s it called?’ she asked, still wondering at the sight.

  ‘Château de Chillon,’ Matteo replied. ‘Chillon Castle.’

  Fat round turrets climbed towards the bright blue sky, joined by boxier square ones, many of them topped by flags that fluttered in the light summer breeze. She could imagine Rapunzel sitting at the top of one of them, her hair hanging out of the window just waiting for a prince to scamper up it and set her free.

  ‘Do you want to go inside?’ Matteo asked.

  ‘Can we?’ She felt her eyes widen. Only strictly arranged visits were allowed at the castle in Augusta, and Isabella had spent the last few years carefully avoiding any of them.

  Matteo just smiled.

  It turned out that tourists were welcome at the Château de Chillon, and nobody seemed to notice that one of the tourists was actually a visiting member of another royal family. Isabella kept her sunglasses on to hide her face, but, honestly, she didn’t think anyone was looking at her anyway. The castle was full of enough treasures to draw attention away. From the open courtyards to the friezes painted on the walls—not to mention the views out over the lake and the mountains, or towards the vineyards.

  ‘Besides,’ Matteo murmured in her ear as they took in one of the displays of armour, ‘who would honestly expect a real princess to be walking around with the rest of the tourists?’

  After they’d toured the rooms of the castle that were open to them, they climbed to the top of the keep in the centre of the castle and took in the view all around them. Standing close behind her, Matteo whispered information about what they were looking at into her ear as he turned her to face different directions.

  ‘And that, down there, is where I’m taking you tomorrow,’ he said finally.

  Isabella squinted to see where he was pointing. ‘The Château café?’

  Matteo shook his head. ‘The town of Montreux.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MATTEO WAS STILL grinning to himself as he showered the day off him and changed into loose trousers and a shirt for dinner on the balcony that evening. The trip to Château du Chillon had been a success, and Isabella had already all but agreed to another outing tomorrow.

  ‘I’d never have seen this, if I hadn’t met you,’ she’d whispered to him, as they’d stood atop the keep tower, looking out over water and mountains and towns and fields. ‘Thank you.’

  He’d known then that he couldn’t stop yet.

  As much as he wanted to take Isabella to bed and keep her there for the rest of their stay at the villa, there was a certain joy in exploring their surroundings with her too. His favourite part was watching Isabella get to pretend to be a normal, ordinary person, rather than a princess. The pleasure she took from fading into the background and watching others—even when they were just sitting in the café together sipping coffee—was palpable.

  I gave that to her. She’ll remember that.

  It was something, at least.

  And, he thought as he headed out to meet her on the balcony, he was almost certain that their day trips into tourist life wouldn’t be the only things she remembered. She’d remember the nights they had together, too—the same way he would.

  Those nights were seared into his memory for ever, he knew that already.

  ‘What’s on the menu tonight?’ Matteo’s blood warmed at the sight of Isabella in another one of her sundresses. This one, he noted, tied around the neck, covering her high to her throat and down to her ankles. While it showed off her beautiful shoulders, it was definitely more modest than many of the others she’d worn.

  Then she turned to get to what had become, over the past few days, her chair, and he saw that the whole back was missing, the fabric draping down over the swell of her bottom, so low that he was pretty sure there was no way she was wearing anything at all under the dress.

  God, he hoped not. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure how to get through dinner without knowing for sure.

  Isabella lifted the metal cloche covering their plates and revealed a chicken dish with a creamy mushroom and leek sauce, plus a side dish of potatoes, and licked her lips in anticipation. Matteo’s body tightened at the sight. He wanted her to look at him that way, and soon.

  ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day, haven’t you?’ she said. ‘I’m starving. Not that the sandwich in the Château café wasn’t lovely too...’

  How were they still talking about food? When she looked like that and he hadn’t touched her for hours.

  Had he totally regressed to being a teenager, unable to think about anything but sex? Apparently so.

  Then she looked up and met his gaze, and he watched her pupils widen further. Was she having the same thoughts that he was? It looked likely. And yet, decorum dictated that they eat dinner before anything else.

  Matteo hated decorum. But despite all his efforts, Isabella was still ruled by it.

  That, or she was just tormenting him for fun.

  Dinner was an excruciatingly pleasurable torture. Every mouthful she took made him want to kiss her more. Each time she reached for her wine glass that damn dress shifted around what he was now certain were her bare breasts, and he ached to touch her.

  Isabella kept up a light conversation about the château and the sights they’d enjoyed that day, seemingly unaware of his distraction, until she’d finished the last mouthful of her lemon mousse.

  Then she smiled at him, warm and wicked, and he knew that every moment of the meal had been intentional.

  ‘What shall we do with the rest of our evening, I wonder?’ she said, her voice too innocent to be real. ‘It’s been such a lovely day, and we only have such a limited time here, it seems a shame to waste the later hours. We could walk by the lake, perhaps, or in the gardens. Or maybe there’s another board game around he
re somewhere we could play...’

  She started to stand, and Matteo’s hand shot out to circle her wrist with firm fingers. ‘Or I could take you to bed right now and see how loudly I can make you scream using only my tongue.’

  Her pulse kicked up a gear under his fingertips, and he knew they weren’t going to be playing Monopoly again any time soon.

  ‘Or we could do that.’ Isabella’s eyes were nearly black as she slid into his lap, warm and wanting.

  Matteo slid his hands up under the fabric of her skirt, palms against the smooth skin of her thighs. ‘Was this whole meal just a plan to torture me?’

  ‘Well, I was genuinely hungry.’ She kissed his neck, and he shivered with need. ‘But honestly? Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  She shrugged, and everything moved under her dress in a way that made his everything stand even more firmly to attention. Any moment now, he was going to untie that tiny ribbon bow that held the dress up and let it fall away completely. Then he’d know for sure what was under it.

  God, he hoped it was nothing but Isabella’s bare skin.

  ‘Because...you were in charge today,’ she said. ‘You drove, decided where we went, how long we stayed. And I loved our day out, I really did—and I wouldn’t have had the courage to take us there myself, even if I could drive. But...’

  ‘You wanted to be in charge of something too,’ he guessed. ‘In control.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ She shrugged again and he nearly lost his mind. ‘Silly, really.’

  ‘Not at all.’ How often did a princess get to decide anything about her life? Not nearly often enough, was Matteo’s guess. ‘So, do you want to choose our activities for the rest of the week?’

  She tilted her head a little as she studied him, and he realised he could look right down the side of her dress. Definitely no bra.

  He’d let her decide everything if she’d just let him confirm the ‘no underwear’ part of his hypothesis.

  ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘Not all of them. Just some of them.’