‘That sounds fair.’ He swallowed. ‘So, do you want to play Monopoly, or...?’
Isabella reached up behind her neck and unfastened the bow that had been driving him crazy for the last hour. Then she stood up, let the dress fall to the floor of the balcony, and stalked naked back into her bedroom.
‘We’re definitely going with your plan for this evening,’ she called back over one bare shoulder. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Matteo hurried to his feet and after her.
They only had two more days, after all. He didn’t want to waste a moment.
At the palace in Augusta, a week could feel like a year if there wasn’t anything interesting going on—or, as often happened, if she was avoiding getting caught up in official royal engagements where her only purpose was to smile and stay quiet. Here on Lake Geneva, Isabella’s week with Matteo seemed to have passed in a flash.
Which wasn’t to say they hadn’t made the most of their time together. Quite apart from the hours spent exploring each other’s bodies, or whispering thoughts and histories to each other in the dark, Matteo had taken her on the sort of everyday adventures she’d never been allowed to have before.
He hadn’t pushed her too far, ever, but just slipping away from their security detail—who’d been surprisingly sanguine about it after the first time, so she suspected Gianna had had a word and told them to let them go—felt like a rebellion. Putting on a floppy straw hat and wandering incognito around the resort town of Montreux, eating lunch in a side-street café where no one knew who she was, or even who Matteo was, had felt liberating. Swimming in the waters of Lake Geneva, with Matteo’s arms around her as he stole wet kisses, had been something entirely new.
And then there were the nights.
After Nate, she’d never really expected to feel such passion again—or to trust it if she did. But with Matteo, everything seemed so natural. Whatever her body needed, he was always there to give it to her. And she felt no embarrassment in needing to learn what he liked, what he wanted, what made him moan and flip them over and thrust into her until they both fell over the edge of pleasure together.
Being with Matteo had felt nothing like her time with Nate. Nothing like anything she’d ever experienced before.
And now, too soon, it was time to say goodbye to it and head back to the real world.
They’d elected to spend their last day together at the villa—mostly in bed, which was fine by Isabella. The morning had been a haze of pleasure and the occasional pastry and coffee, when they needed to build up their energy reserves again. They’d managed a small walk down to the water’s edge and along the path after lunch, but the temptation to touch and kiss and more had been too great, and it wasn’t long before they were back in bed.
Maybe they were just reassuring each other that they were still there. For now. Isabella wasn’t sure. She was trying to ignore the fact that, after tomorrow, she’d be on her own again.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Matteo murmured against her shoulder.
She twisted under the light sheets until she could rest her cheek against his chest. ‘Tomorrow, I guess.’
Matteo was silent for a moment. ‘Back to the real world, huh? You going to miss me?’ He grinned as he said it, and she knew it was just a joke, a request from his perfectly healthy ego.
‘I’ll miss this.’ She pressed a kiss to his skin, then lifted her face to kiss his lips, too. ‘This week...it’s like I’ve been a different person. It’s strange to think I have to say goodbye to her tomorrow morning.’
And to you.
‘You’ve been able to be Isabella. Not just the Princess.’
‘Yeah.’ And now she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to being the Princess at all. But what choice did she have? It was who she was. Who her family expected her to be.
She’d always known that her place in the family, the love of the King, Queen and all their subjects, were contingent on following The Rules. Ever since she’d heard the whispered stories about her Aunt Josephine, and her banishment from the palace after she fell in love with the man who looked after her horses—old gossip by the time it had reached ten-year-old Isabella’s ears, but still shocking. Aunt Josephine had refused to give him up, and that was why Isabella had never met her.
Everything that had happened with Nate had only reinforced the lesson and confirmed to her that nothing had changed. Augusta was still as rule-bound, stuffy and unforgiving as always.
Beside her, Matteo shifted, lying flat beside her on his side so he could meet her gaze. ‘You told me that you’d taken time off from being a princess once before. But you never told me what happened.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ And that had been intentional. She’d distracted him, got him to tell her his secrets instead. He’d shared about his brother’s death, his bucket list, everything.
And she’d kept her secrets close, locked inside, as always.
‘No one can ever know, Isabella.’ Her father’s words. And, always remembering Aunt Josephine, she’d lived by them.
‘Will you tell me now?’ Matteo asked.
Isabella bit her lip as she considered. Matteo wouldn’t spill her secrets—if he was going to, he had far juicier stuff to share now after their week together. Plus, there was that non-disclosure agreement he must have signed before coming to Lake Geneva in the first place.
Besides, she knew in her heart that Matteo wouldn’t betray her that way.
Except I thought the same thing about Nate, too.
Was that why she didn’t want to tell him? No, she admitted to herself. It wasn’t fear that was stopping her telling him the truth. It was shame, or at least embarrassment. That she’d ever been that naive, trusting girl.
That, in some ways, she still was.
‘If you don’t want to—’ Matteo started, but she cut him off.
‘No. I mean, yes, I don’t. But not because of you. Because of me. Because it’s just so...stupid.’
This wasn’t like the secrets he’d shared with her. Nothing so tragic as a dead brother, or as noble as fulfilling his lost dreams. This was just...humiliating.
‘Okay.’ Matteo looked confused. She didn’t really blame him.
With a sigh, she sat up, drawing the sheets up to cover her bare breasts. ‘I’ll tell you. But bring me some of those chocolates first, okay?’ She was going to need something sweet to counteract the bitterness of the memory.
He flashed her an indulgent smile, then retrieved the box of truffles from the table in the corner, placing them on the bed between them as he settled back down next to her.
Isabella took one and stuffed it in her mouth as she figured out how best to begin.
‘I’ve never told this story to anyone,’ she said. ‘The only people who know are the ones who lived it with me. So if I don’t tell it well, that’s why. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ Matteo wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. ‘And if you want to stop, if you decide you don’t want me to know, that’s fine too, okay? I won’t push.’
Another difference between him and Nate. Nate had always pushed. He’d had to, hadn’t he? It was his job.
‘When I was twenty-two, I met a guy.’ God, how many tragic stories started that way? Too many, Isabella was sure. ‘Nathanial was Augustan and from a decent enough family to be invited to an event at the palace, but not aristocracy, so not a suitable courtship partner for me in the eyes of my family. But I thought I was in love, of course. At his urging, I’d throw off my princess persona and escape the castle to be with him. He was my first love, my first everything really. Being with him was the first time since puberty that I felt like myself, like Isabella, not just a princess.’
‘So, what went wrong?’ Matteo asked. ‘Your parents found out?’
‘They did,’ Isabella admitted. ‘But not until it showed up in the papers.
It turned out that Nate was an aspiring reporter, and he’d used his flirtation with me to get photos, quotes about my family, insider gossip from the palace, everything. He sold it to the Augustan Times in return for a job there.’
Matteo swore. ‘Bella, I’m... That’s awful. I’m so sorry.’
‘It was a long time ago. Five years—no, nearly six since it started.’ And in that whole time she’d kept her distance from everyone, kept herself safe behind the title of Princess, using it as a barrier. Until this week.
‘What happened next?’
‘Isn’t that enough?’ She flashed him a grin, but she could see from his eyes that he knew the aftermath mattered almost as much as the event itself. She sighed and went on. ‘The palace put out a statement denying most of it—saying he was a desperate young man who had made up these quotes and stories to find fame. But there were photos of us together, and too many of the stories rang true with other gossip, so I don’t think anyone believed it. It was easy enough to see what had really happened. I’d been a fool.’
Matteo shook his head. ‘You were taken advantage of. You were in love.’
‘I’m not even sure I was, now. Not really. Love...you think you know what it is when it happens for the first time, don’t you? But now, I’m not sure I’d recognise it if it jumped up and down throwing heart confetti at me. I just... I don’t know how anyone trusts anyone else that much. Not without a non-disclosure agreement, anyway.’ She laughed at her joke, but he didn’t.
‘Isabella.’ His bright green eyes were serious. ‘You know I wouldn’t tell anyone about all we’ve shared here this week, non-disclosure agreement or not.’
‘I do.’ She couldn’t have explained how she knew she could trust him, but there was no doubt inside her that she did. She’d trusted him with her body all week. She could trust him with her secrets, too.
‘Anyway, my parents—and my older brother, Leo—were all horrified at the peril I’d placed the palace in. Those are their exact words, incidentally.’ She almost smiled at the memory, except to this day the sight of the King and Queen and the Crown Prince of Augusta all staring at her in disapproving disbelief was still the thing that gave her the most nightmares. ‘They couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen what was happening. In fact... I wondered if they actually thought I’d done it on purpose, as some sort of rebellion.’
‘Did you ever ask them that?’
Isabella shook her head. ‘No. We...after all the initial lectures and lessons about how to guard my royal privacy—or, more pertinently, theirs—we never talked about it again. His name is never mentioned in the palace, neither is that whole period of my life. It’s as if it never happened.’ As if she’d never been anyone but Princess Isabella at all. Just as Aunt Josephine had been written out of the family history.
Matteo was silent for a long moment, his lips pressed against her hair. She could almost hear him thinking.
‘Do you think...this week...?’ he said, finally. ‘Has it given you anything?’
She didn’t have to think about the answer. ‘It’s given me everything.’
The chance to be herself, for once, not her title. The ability to explore all the things she’d never thought she’d have again. To take a few risks, to live a little.
But most of all, it had enabled her to trust her own judgement again. To believe that Isabella was a person worth being, princess or not.
She couldn’t put all that emotion into words, though. Not without ugly crying, and ruining their last, perfect night together. So instead, she reached up and wound a hand around the back of Matteo’s neck, pulling his mouth to hers, putting all of her feelings into her kisses instead.
And as he responded she knew that this was the perfect way to spend their final hours together. Lost in each other, bodies so close they were almost the same person, without any more secrets between them. Just enjoying this space out of time, where they could be themselves.
This is perfect, Isabella thought as Matteo made love to her, the intensity of their coupling somehow so much more than the other nights they’d spent together.
So close, as her body tightened and her release swelled within her, and Matteo began to move faster as she fought to match his pace.
So perfect, as her orgasm crashed over her, and every muscle in her body seemed to tense then relax, drifting away on a contented cloud of daydreams.
In fact, everything was perfect, until Matteo jumped up and swore, loudly and proficiently.
‘What is it?’ she asked, forcing her trembling body to sit up.
He met her gaze with grave eyes. ‘The condom broke.’
CHAPTER NINE
THE NEXT MORNING—the last morning—Matteo sat on the balcony with his morning coffee and watched Isabella leave.
Except in reality she’d already left him, hours ago. The moment the damn condom broke, she’d shot out of his bed and his life.
He’d tried to talk to her, of course. Offered to find the nearest all-night chemist that might provide a morning-after pill or something, but she’d refused to listen. Told him she’d handle it herself.
Which he expected meant she’d be asking one of her royal advisors to handle it, since he couldn’t exactly see her walking into a pharmacy herself to do it.
But after all the walls they’d broken down between them over the past week, it frustrated the hell out of him that this had put them all back up again.
She hadn’t even joined him for breakfast that morning—which meant she hadn’t eaten anything at all. Behaviour so unlike the Isabella he’d come to know this week, he’d really started to worry.
She had come to say goodbye, though. He supposed that much politeness at least was bred into princesses.
‘My assistant will be here with my car any moment,’ she’d said, lingering in the doorway to the balcony. ‘I’m going to go and wait downstairs. So... I guess this is goodbye.’
‘I’ll take your bag down for you,’ he’d offered, but she’d shaken her head.
‘Even princesses can carry a bag, Matteo.’ It had been a joke, he supposed, but he hadn’t laughed.
Because that was what she was again, wasn’t it? Princess Isabella, a world away from him.
And because of a stupid piece of latex, he hadn’t even been able to enjoy their last night together.
‘It’s too much, Matteo,’ she’d whispered through the door, after she’d shut it on him. ‘Too much risk. This whole week... It’s too much.’
She wasn’t wrong. He’d spent a sleepless night trying to deal with just how much it all was. And how saying goodbye suddenly seemed so much bigger than it had in his head, now he really had to do it.
He wasn’t a fool. He hadn’t expected this week to end with hearts and flowers and a royal wedding, even before she’d told him about her experiences with the idiot reporter. And he hadn’t wanted it to, either.
Matteo Rossi wasn’t the settling-down type, and he definitely wasn’t anybody’s idea of a prince.
But the idea of never seeing Isabella again—never touching her, never kissing her, never making love to her again—that made his whole chest ache in a way he hadn’t anticipated when he’d stood on this balcony a week ago and looked down to see her standing on the terrace.
Maybe M knew what it was doing after all. Because he’d never met a woman so perfect for him.
If only she weren’t the most impossible person for him to love, all at the same time.
This was for the best. He had to remember that. He needed to live his own life, a life he couldn’t live if he was worrying about her—or even if he knew she was somewhere, worrying about him. Love, like the love he’d felt for his mother and brother, came with limits, and it came with loss and pain.
He didn’t have space for any of those things in the life he was living for himself, and for Giovanni.
A car pulled ar
ound the corner of the driveway, out from the trees that shielded the villa from the passing roads, and halted beside the terrace. Tinted windows, probably bullet-proof glass, and high wheels that put the driver and passengers above many of the other cars on the road.
A carriage fit for a princess—a modern-day one, anyway. Even if Augusta seemed to be stuck in the past when it came to the rules it expected its princesses to follow.
The honey-blonde woman Isabella had been arguing with the day he first saw her—Gianna, his memory filled in—stepped out from the back seat and hurried across to the terrace. Just like that first day, he was too far away to make out their conversation, but the concern on Gianna’s face was evident even at a distance. What did she see in Isabella’s face that made her look like that?
He wished he knew. That he could see. That he could take the Princess in his arms and kiss her better.
Was Isabella feeling as torn up as he was right now? Or was she just telling her friend about last night’s accident and begging her to help make it go away.
His child...
No. That was stupid. It was one broken condom; the chances of Isabella being pregnant were low, surely?
Just imagining it was another way to hold onto her, beyond the end of this week. And that wasn’t something he could do; they’d both been clear enough about that from the start. Nothing had changed in either of their worlds outside this place.
Even if he felt like a different person inside, all of a sudden.
Down on the terrace, Gianna put her arm around Isabella and led her towards the car, carrying her case in her other hand. Matteo watched intently from the balcony. Would she turn around? Would she wave goodbye? Did he even want her to? He wasn’t sure.
Isabella reached the car door, and he braced himself for her disappearing behind those tinted windows, and the prison of her position as Princess. But, at the last minute, she paused and looked back up at him.
He drank in that last glimpse of her. That creamy skin, the dark curls that bounced past her shoulders. The curves he’d held close. The lips he’d kissed.
The Princess and the Rebel Billionaire Page 10