Secret Prince's Christmas Seduction

by Carol Marinelli

  And now she stood there, silent and completely unprepared, for she held his gift in her hands and her face still bore the smile she had been wearing when she entered, as if the wind had changed and set it there.

  An ill wind.

  When she had expected it least, Rafe had gone.

  ‘Antonietta!’

  She jumped at the sound of her name, and as Rafe flicked on the light he frowned, for her face was alabaster-white.

  ‘You’re early.’

  ‘I didn’t go home.’ Her voice was strained and she cleared her throat. ‘I came straight here. Why are you in darkness?’

  ‘I was taking a shower.’

  And that made sense, for he wore nothing more than a towel, but the fire wasn’t even lit.

  ‘There’s no guard on the door.’

  ‘No,’ Rafe said, and he could see the questions in her eyes.

  To avoid them, he turned and lit the fire. The guards had not just been there for his protection, they had reported back to the King. And they were not mere ‘guards’, they were Royal Protection Officers, which meant they were completely within their brief to carry out background checks on her. And when he had told them to leave they had retreated only to the perimeter of the hotel.

  But his senior RPO, who had worked with Rafe for years, had stayed back, warning him that he should be back in Tulano by now, by request of the King.

  It had been one step down from an order.

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ Rafe had told him. ‘This is my doing.’

  His doing.

  ‘Antonietta...’ he started, and loathed the austerity of his tone—but it was surely kinder in the long run, and there was no point prettying up his words.

  ‘I got you a present...’ she said.

  He glanced down at the bottle she held, dressed in a red velvet bow.

  ‘That was not necessary,’ Rafe said.

  ‘Presents shouldn’t be necessary.’ Antonietta smiled, but it wavered. ‘It was just something I saw...’

  Rafe was more than used to gifts. So very used to them. But none had ever shot to his heart in the way this did.

  Not only could she not afford it, but it had been chosen with care, and he was loath to cause offence.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘Smell it.’

  He would rather not, and yet she was already unscrewing the lid.

  Rather than offering him the bottle, she poured some into her palm and held out her hand for him to sniff.

  ‘I was worried about your shoulder,’ Antonietta said, and attempted to place her oiled hand there, feeling him actually wince at her uninvited fingers, while berating herself for thinking she could possibly spoil a man who could have anything he wanted.

  Even her.

  ‘It’s too cold in here, though,’ Antonietta said, and removed her hand.

  She wasn’t referring to the temperature of the room. Even though she had tried to ignore it, she could pick up his resistant vibe.

  And she refused to beg.

  ‘Enjoy,’ she said, and placed the bottle on the table.

  Unsure of him for the first time, she turned to go.

  ‘Antonietta.’ He caught her oiled hand but it slipped from his grasp, so he caught her more firmly and turned her around to face him. ‘Don’t leave.’

  ‘I don’t feel very welcome all of a sudden.’

  ‘You are always welcome.’

  He took her hand and placed it back on his shoulder. The contact was her undoing, for she had craved this moment for so much longer than today.

  His bruises had all but gone, though there were still two dark lines where the rotator cuff had sheared, and now, when he winced at her touch, it was not in recoil more in targeted relief.

  ‘Did I hurt you that night on the dance floor?’ Antonietta asked, and she watched his arrogant mouth edge into a smile.

  ‘A bit,’ he said. ‘And then you dug your nails into me when we were in bed...’

  ‘I don’t have long nails,’ Antonietta said, and she pressed her fingers in, exactly where it would hurt.

  He sucked in his breath and then exhaled as the muscle was released. ‘They felt like long nails,’ Rafe said.

  He was already hardening, and turned on, and his resolution to avoid break-up sex was fading.

  ‘What pain we both felt that night,’ Antonietta said. ‘When you took me I thought I might die.’

  And as she took him back to that moment Rafe knew that he, the practised seducer, was being seduced by the shy maid with the sad eyes. It was he who had brought this side out in her, Rafe lamented, and he felt a snap of possessiveness at the thought of her out in the world without him. It was a coil in his gut that was unfamiliar as her fingers dug and pressed and kneaded.

  She traced a finger around his flat mahogany nipples and then nipped him there with her teeth.

  ‘Antonietta...’

  She lifted her head and looked right at him. There was no trace of sadness, and nor was she shy, but he could not bring himself to do what he must and end it.

  And so he ripped open the poppers of her white therapist’s uniform and scooped her breasts from their flimsy bra. He took some of the oil and warmed it in his palm before playing with them, at first gently, then increasingly roughly.

  His towel was gone, and he pushed her dress down over her arms and down past her hips. She stepped out of her knickers along with the rest of her clothes.

  Once they were naked, Rafe pulled them both down to the floor and lifted her hips. It was her hand that guided him as he slipped into her tight space. And they were panting and hot on this cool December night, as he held her hips so he could fill her with his thick length.

  Antonietta was up on her knees, holding onto his oiled and slippery shoulders, watching the delicious sight of him sliding in and out of her. Her hair was on his face, and as he brushed it back their mouths met in frenzied, swollen kisses.

  They both knew they must stop.

  But he could feel her abandon and he craved just a little more.

  ‘We should...’ He attempted to speak. He knew he ought to lift her off him, for the protection was in the master bedroom. Except there was no going back now. The condoms might as well be locked in a vault in Switzerland for all the hope he had of getting to them.

  He grew careless, as he never had before. It was unthinkable that he should have unprotected sex—not least because Antonietta wasn’t on the Pill. But it was such a building need... And he had to feel her come around him.

  ‘Rafe...’

  She delivered her warning that she was close and he hit the snooze button on his thoughts, sinking into the flickering bliss of her grip.

  She felt the final swell of him and yelped as he crashed over the edge and lost himself in the hot pulse of her tender flesh.

  So careless. Because now he ignored the world outside, and the conversation that needed to be had, and carried her to his bed.

  Everything else could wait.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FOR ONCE, ANTONIETTA was up long after the Silibri sun.

  Dizzy from lack of sleep, they had crashed at dawn.

  Last night Rafe had hit the proverbial snooze button on his mental alarm.

  This morning Antonietta had hit the real one.

  Outside the warm bed the room was cold, so it had been easy—too easy—to give in to the arm that pulled her into his warmth and drift back to sleep.

  ‘Shall I open the drapes for you, Signor Dupont?’

  The sound of Francesca’s voice jolted Antonietta awake, although her eyes did not open. Rafe’s hand tightened on her bare arm and she lay as if set in stone, with her heart fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest.

  ‘No,’ Rafe said. ‘That will be all.’ And then he added, ‘Thank you.
’

  Antonietta heard the bedroom door close and it felt like for ever until the main door opened and shut. Only then did she sit up and let out a low moan. ‘Francesca knew I was here.’

  ‘Of course she didn’t. You could have been anyone,’ Rafe said. ‘The lights are not on...’

  ‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘Francesca is the manager. She doesn’t bring guests their coffee—not even royal ones. She knew I was here...’

  ‘How?’

  ‘She’s been checking on me.’

  Antonietta climbed out of bed, pulled a throw from the top of it and wrapped it around her. ‘That day when she suddenly came to check your suite with me...’

  ‘You’re reading too much into things,’ Rafe said with stoic calm even as she dashed into the lounge.

  ‘No, Rafe, I’m not.’

  Francesca knew—of that Antonietta was certain.

  ‘Did you fold my uniform after you removed it from me?’ Antonietta asked as he joined her in the lounge. ‘Did you carefully place it over the chair?’

  His hand came down on her shoulder and he turned her to face him. Of course he had not.

  He wrapped her in a strong embrace. Her head was on his chest and she listened to the steady thud, thud, thud of his heart and wished hers could match it.

  ‘I will speak with Nico,’ Rafe said.

  ‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘I don’t need you to do me any favours. I will handle it myself.’ She pulled her head from his chest.

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘Of course I do.’ She removed herself from the haven of his arms. ‘How can your intervening possibly help? You weren’t the one caught—that was me...’

  ‘Antonietta...’ Rafe attempted reason. ‘It was both of us.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘You can sleep with whomever you choose, Rafe.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘And from everything I’ve heard you frequently do.’

  ‘Don’t do this, Antonietta,’ Rafe warned. ‘Don’t turn this into something cheap.’

  But in her head Antonietta already had.

  She had struggled to justify sleeping with Rafe even to herself, while all the time knowing that it could go nowhere. In the cold light of day she saw it was impossible to defend it now—especially to others.

  She showered quickly and then dressed in her uniform, and came out to find Rafe lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, looking grim.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Antonietta said, ‘I should have set the alarm...’

  ‘Why does blame have to be apportioned?’ Rafe asked.

  ‘Because we are in Silibri,’ Antonietta said. ‘Finding someone to blame is our national sport.’

  ‘Antonietta,’ Rafe said. ‘I won’t let you lose your job because of me...’

  Damn, he hadn’t even told her he was leaving today.

  ‘I’ve lost more than my job to you, Rafe.’

  ‘You speak as if you were an unwilling participant.’ His voice came out defensive and derisive, as it tended to when he was feeling caught out.

  ‘I’m talking about my virginity,’ Antonietta replied, loathing her own tone, but she felt caught out too.

  He didn’t know what to do as she flounced off. His immediate thought was to call Nico and put in a word, but he knew she would hate that. Or he could head down and apologise to Francesca...

  Rafe felt as if he was back at school.

  And then the weight of his own problems arrived at his door.

  Antonietta would have barely made it through the cloister when there came a heavy knock.

  It was his RPO, looking grim. ‘You are to call the palace.’

  ‘I have already spoken with the King,’ Rafe responded tartly. He did not need to be told again that it was time for him to leave.

  But he had not understood the message.

  ‘It is the Queen who wishes to speak with you.’

  Rafe could not remember a time when his mother had requested to speak with him, and for a moment he felt ice run down his spine. It must be bad news. His mother never called. Not during his schooling, nor when he was injured.

  So rare was this request that by the time he had been put through to the palace Rafe had almost convinced himself that his father must be on his deathbed and he was about to become King.

  Not now, Rafe thought. Not like this.

  ‘Rafael.’

  His mother’s tone gave him no clue—it was brusque and efficient as always.

  ‘I spoke with your father at length last night.’

  ‘He is well?’ Rafe checked.

  ‘Of course he is.’ Marcelle sounded irritated. ‘Rafe, I understand you are involved with someone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have heard your father’s poor advice to you.’

  For a second he thought he had an ally. That possibly his mother was on his side. But this was not a gentle lead-in. There was no preamble with the Ice Queen.

  ‘End things with her and do it immediately.’

  ‘That’s your advice?’

  ‘Of course,’ Marcelle said. ‘Or would you prefer your father’s suggestion to keep her on call? It is doable, of course,’ Marcelle said. ‘I should know.’

  Rafe drew in a breath and found that he was holding it. His mother had never discussed his father’s ways. At least not with Rafe.

  ‘You took her to Capri?’ Marcelle checked.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You can take her there again...’

  Rafe frowned.

  ‘But I will tell you this much, Rafe,’ his mother said. ‘Your wife must never set foot on that island.’

  Rafe had always found his mother cold. In that moment he knew she burnt with humiliation and pain.

  ‘I would never do that to my wife.’

  ‘Good,’ Marcelle said. ‘Because right now your future wife is being chosen and your engagement is to be announced on New Year’s Day. Do as I suggest, and end it with this woman cleanly and quietly. Leave her in no doubt that the two of you are completely through.’

  * * *

  For Antonietta it was quite a walk of shame to Francesca’s office.

  Yes, she had lost more than her virginity to Rafe. She had lost her pride. For there was little pride to be salvaged when you were found in an eminent guest’s bed. But more than that she had lost her heart to Rafe, and that was the part that hurt the most.

  It came to her then that this would never have happened had she not been falling in love.

  She pressed her eyes closed on that thought as she knocked at Francesca’s door.

  ‘Come in.’

  Francesca’s voice was hostile and so were her eyes as Antonietta stepped in and closed the door.

  ‘Are you here to deliver your resignation?’ Francesca asked.

  ‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘I am here to apologise. I know it looks terrible, but—’

  ‘Don’t make excuses,’ Francesca broke in. ‘It is forbidden for staff to fraternise or offer favours to guests for reward. Signor Caruso is very clear on that fact.’

  ‘Yes, but I was not offering favours. Aurora knows and—’

  ‘Oh, that’s right—you are friends with the boss’s wife.’ Francesca again cut her off. ‘Very well. You can tell your friend that Nico shall have my resignation by lunchtime.’

  ‘No,’ Antonietta protested. ‘Why would you leave because of me?’

  The very thought that Francesca would resign over this appalled Antonietta, who knew the manager loved her work. Francesca worked both day and night, greeting their most esteemed guests, ensuring that every detail of their stay was perfect. She couldn’t understand why her actions might force Francesca out.

  ‘If I’d wanted to be a madam then I would have applied for a job at Rubina’s.’

&
nbsp; Rubina’s was the bordello in the next village.

  ‘I am not a whore,’ Antonietta said. ‘I am not being paid or anything like that...’

  ‘Oh, please,’ Francesca sneered. ‘I don’t believe you for a moment.’

  ‘But it’s true,’ Antonietta insisted, and then admitted a truth she had been trying to resist until now. ‘It has nothing to do with money. I love him.’

  There was silence from both of them at the enormity of her words, for Francesca knew that Antonietta was not one for passionate declarations.

  ‘Oh, Antonietta...’ Francesca sighed. ‘You foolish, foolish girl.’

  But she said it kindly, and Antonietta knew that Francesca really cared. In truth, she ached for a more mature woman’s advice. ‘Why foolish?’

  ‘I thought that you at least knew what you were doing and that it was a business arrangement.’

  ‘You’d rather that he was paying me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Francesca admitted. ‘I’d rather that than you give your heart to a man who is using you.’

  ‘But he isn’t using me.’

  ‘No—you offered yourself to him on a plate.’

  She had.

  Antonietta’s eyes screwed closed as realisation started to hit and she recalled that first night, outside her cottage, and her reaction to her very first kiss. Take me to bed. It had felt at the time as necessary and straightforward as that.

  ‘Sit down, Antonietta,’ Francesca said gently.

  She offered tissues, and poured water, and then pulled her chair around so she sat next to Antonietta.

  The older woman took her hand. ‘I won’t tell anyone, and neither will I lose my job over this, or you yours, but there is a condition.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You are to go and tell Signor Dupont—or rather, Crown Prince Rafael—that you have kept your job only on the condition that, after your conversation, you will never speak to him again.’

  Antonietta swallowed.

  ‘You are not to be in his suite and he is not to come to your home. There will be no more contact between the two of you.’