Читать книгу: «The Santina Crown»

‘Do you want to be my fiancée?’

‘Alex…’ Allegra said. ‘Why, when I didn’t even want to have a drink with you, do you think I’d even entertain…?’

‘A million pounds.’

She laughed, because these things didn’t happen, and he had to be joking and when he pulled out a cheque book, she laughed even more, because it was crazy. Except when he handed it to her, his hand was completely steady and he wasn’t laughing.

‘So what are you paying me for?’

‘I can’t just invent someone—you might have to join me in Santina at some point. All you would have to do is smile and hang onto my every word.’

‘Until?’

‘Until the people dictate otherwise…’ He gave a shrug. ‘It might be days, it might be weeks.’ He looked to the cheque and so too did Allegra, and she thought about it, hell, she really thought about it. He wasn’t asking for her to sleep with him, just to smile and hold his hand. And what she could do with the money—she could get a flat, a job, actually she could do what she really wanted…

THE

SANTINA CROWN

Royalty has never been so scandalous!

STOP PRESS—Crown Prince in shock marriage

The tabloid headlines…

When HRH Crown Prince Alessandro of Santina

proposes to paparazzi favourite Allegra Jackson it

promises to be the social event of the decade

—outrageous headlines guaranteed!

The salacious gossip…

Mills & Boon invites you to rub shoulders with

royalty, sheikhs and glamorous socialites.

Step into the decadent playground of the

world’s rich and famous…

THE SANTINA CROWN

THE PRICE OF ROYAL DUTY – Penny Jordan

THE SHEIKH’S HEIR – Sharon Kendrick

THE SCANDALOUS PRINCESS – Kate Hewitt

THE MAN BEHIND THE SCARS – Caitlin Crews

DEFYING THE PRINCE – Sarah Morgan

PRINCESS FROM THE SHADOWS – Maisey Yates

THE GIRL NOBODY WANTED – Lynn Raye Harris

PLAYING THE ROYAL GAME – Carol Marinelli

About the Author

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’.

Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and, after chewing her pen for a moment, Carol put down the truth—’writing’. The third question asked, ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

The

Santina Crown

Playing The Royal Game

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CHAPTER ONE

SHE was better off without the job, Allegra told herself.

No one should have to put up with that.

Except that walking in the rain along grey London streets, taking the underground to various employment agencies, the anger that her boss could make such a blatant a pass at her and then fire her for not succumbing started to be replaced with something that felt close to fear.

She needed that job.

Needed it.

Her savings had been obliterated by the bottomless pit that was her family’s excess spending. At times it felt as if her lowly publishing wage supported half the Jackson family. Yes, she was the boring reliable one, but they didn’t mind her dependability when their erratic ways found them in trouble. Just last week she had lent her stepmother, Chantelle, close to five thousand pounds in cash for credit card debts that her father didn’t know about. It was laughable to think that she might now have to have her family support her.

It was a miserable day, with no sign that it was spring; instead it was cold and wet, and Allegra dug her hands deeper into her trench coat pockets, her fingers curling around a fifty-pound note she had pulled out of the ATM. If her boss refused to put her pay in tomorrow it was all she had before being completely broke.

No!

She’d been through worse than this, Allegra decided. As Bobby Jackson’s daughter she was all too used to the bailiffs but her father always managed to pick himself up; he never let it get him down. She was not going to sink, but hell, if she did, then she’d sink in style!

Pushing open a bar door, she walked in with her head held high, the heat hitting her as she entered, and Allegra slipped off her coat and hung it, her hair dripping wet and cold down her back. Normally she wouldn’t entertain entering some random bar, but still, at least it was warm and she could sit down and finally gather her thoughts.

There had been a confidence to her as she’d stalked out of her office with dignity. With her track record and her job history, a lot of the agencies had called over the years offering her freelance work.

It had been sobering indeed to find out that they were hiring no one, that the financial crisis and changes to the industry meant that there were no causal jobs waiting for her to step into.

None.

Well, a chance for a couple, but they added up to about three hours’ work per month. Per month!

Allegra was about to head to the bar but, glancing around, saw that it was table service so she walked over to a small alcove and took a seat, the plush couch lined with velvet. Despite its rather dingy appearance from the street, inside it was actually very nice and the prices on the menu verified that as fact.

She looked up at the sound of laughter—a group of well-dressed women were sipping on cocktails and Allegra couldn’t help but envy their buoyant mood. As her eyes moved away from the jovial women they stilled for a fraction, because there, sitting at a table near them, lost in his own world, was possibly the most beautiful man ever to come into her line of vision. Dark suited, his thick brown hair was raked back to show an immaculate profile, high cheekbones and a very straight nose; his long legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankle. But despite his rather languorous position, as he stared into his glass there was a pensiveness to him, a furrow between his eyebrows that showed he was deep in thought. The furrow deepened as there was another outbreak of laughter from the women’s table, and just as he looked up, just as he might have caught her watching, Allegra was terribly grateful for the distraction of the waitress who approached.

‘What can I get you?’ Allegra was about to order a glass of house wine, or maybe just ask if they could do her a pot of tea and a sandwich, because she really ought to try a couple more job agencies, but hell, a girl could only take so much rejection in one day and she may well be living off tea and sandwiches for a long while yet!

‘A bottle of Bollinger please.’ It was an extravagant gesture for Allegra, an unusual one as well. She was extremely careful with her pay cheque, saving twenty percent to put towards her first mortgage before it even hit her account, determined never to be like her family—but where had that gotten her?

The waitress didn’t bat an eye; instead she asked how many glasses.

‘Just the one.’

She was given a little bowl of nuts too!

‘Celebrating?’ the waitress asked as she poured her drink.

‘Sort of,’ Allegra admitted, and then, left alone, she decided that she was. For months she had put up with her boss’s thinly veiled leers and skin-crawling comments. It was worth celebrating just to finally be past all that, so she raised her glass to the window, in the general direction of her old work place.

‘Cheers!’

As she turned she caught Mr. Gorgeous watching her—not staring, just idly curious—and she couldn’t blame him for that. After all, she was raising a glass to the window. She gave him a brief smile and then turned back to her thoughts, took out a pen and the notebook and list of contacts that she always carried and set about making copious lists, determined, determined, that by the end of the week she would be back in work.

Halfway down the bottle and she didn’t feel quite so brave. If anything, half a bottle of champagne on an empty stomach had her emotions bubbling and she was dangerously close to tears, especially when the waitress came over.

‘You didn’t sign the register when you came in,’ the waitress said, and even before she continued Allegra knew what was coming and inwardly flinched as realization dawned. ‘You are a member, aren’t you?’ She felt a blush spread on her cheeks. Of course it was a private club that she’d entered, not some bar she’d just wandered into, and just as she was about to apologise and fling down her fifty-pound note and flee, a voice that was as pleasing as its owner saved her the embarrassment.

‘Why are you hiding there?’ A deep warm voice had both Allegra and the waitress turn around and she found herself looking now into the eyes of the pensive stranger—very brown eyes that stayed steady as hers blinked in confusion. He turned and addressed the waitress. ‘Sorry, she’s my guest. I’ll sign her in in a moment.’ The waitress opened her mouth to say something—after all, Allegra had been sitting there alone for a good half an hour or so and he had made no effort to join his guest—but perhaps he was a favourite customer, or maybe it was just his impressive stance, because, without comment, the waitress left them to it.

‘Thanks,’ Allegra said as he took a seat in front of her. ‘But no thanks. I’ll just settle my bill….’ She went to go, but as he moved to stop her, his hand reaching across the table, she shot him a look that told him unwelcome contact would be a very foolish mistake on his part. Given the day she’d had, Allegra had enough pent-up energy to give this stranger a little piece of her mind.

‘As I said, thank you, but no thank you.’

‘At least finish your drink,’ said the stranger. ‘It would be a shame to waste it.’

It would be a crying shame actually.

Maybe she could take it with her, Allegra thought wildly, having visions of herself walking down the street, half-drunk bottle in hand, bemoaning her situation. She found herself smiling at the very thought—not smiling at him, of course, except he interpreted it as such, because he clicked slender fingers in the direction of the bar and summoned another glass. Allegra sat bristling as the waitress poured him a glass of her champagne.

‘I’m just trying to enjoy a quiet drink alone,’ she said pointedly.

‘Then sign in,’ he suggested.

‘Ha, ha!’

‘Or,’ he offered, ‘you can be my guest, which means you sit with me. I wouldn’t hear of it otherwise.’ She couldn’t place his accent. He spoke English terribly well; in fact, his voice was clipped and well schooled, unlike Allegra’s rather more London accent, but there was a slight ring to it, Spanish or Italian perhaps. She was determined not to stay long enough to find out.

‘Anyway,’ he carried on despite her lack of response, ‘you don’t look as if you are enjoying it. In fact, apart from the small salute to the window you seem as miserable as I am.’ She looked at him and saw that the impressive suit he was wearing wasn’t just dark, it was black, and so, too, the tie. Not just from the attire, but from the strain on his face, he had clearly come from a funeral. Now he was close, she could smell him—and he smelt nothing like the usual man in a bar. It wasn’t just the delicious hint of cologne that was unusual; he actually smelt of clean—there was no other way to describe it. His eyes were clear and bizarrely she felt herself relax just a little, for this was surely not a man who usually pressed attention, and it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else that she needed to be.

‘Are you usually so invasive?’

He thought about it for a moment. ‘No.’ He took a sip of drink and seemed to think about it some more. ‘Never. I just saw you looking so fed up and then when the waitress came over I thought…’

‘That you’d cheer me up?’

‘No.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘I thought we could be miserable together. Don’t look, but there are a group of women…’ He gestured his head and as instructed she didn’t look, but she knew who he meant. She’d heard their flirting laughter, and had easily guessed it was aimed towards him. ‘One of them in particular seems determined to join me.’

‘I’d have thought you’d have no trouble at all fighting off unwelcome attention.’ Unlike me, she didn’t add, but then she wasn’t particularly used to men vying for her attention—well, not gorgeous ones anyway. But knowing how to deflect unwelcome attention was surely a prerequisite to him stepping out on the street, because wherever he went he surely turned heads.

‘Normally, I have no problem.’ He didn’t say it in arrogance, merely stated the fact. ‘Just today.’ She looked at his suit. ‘I was just trying to have a drink, to think, to have some silence, perhaps the same as you….’ And while she’d have chosen to have some peace, she’d settle for silence too.

‘Okay.’ She gave a begrudging smile. ‘I can manage silence.’

He must be someone, because all she had been given was a small bowl of nuts, but now that he’d joined her she was treated to lots of little bowls of goodies. She didn’t care if she looked greedy; the rumble in her stomach reminded Allegra that she hadn’t eaten since the slice of toast she’d had while dashing to the Underground some seven hours ago.

‘I’d better sign you in,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you got to a table. They are normally very…’ He didn’t finish, but the insinuation that she didn’t belong had her blushing to her roots.

‘Particular!’ Allegra finished for him, and again she went to reach for her bag. She did not need his charity and certainly not his insults. Today really wasn’t proving to be the best.

‘Thorough.’ He actually smiled at her indignation, a lovely smile that suited him—the very first smile from him that she had seen—and it changed him, changed those haughty, guarded features in a way she rather liked. It was a small smile, not a wide one, a smile she somehow knew was one that was rarely shared. It had to be rare, she figured, because the effect was completely devastating. It fostered awareness, made even listening somehow terribly difficult, because what had offended just a moment before hardly mattered a jot as he spoke on. She had to remind herself that a few seconds ago she’d been rather disgruntled, had to force herself to not sit there like an idiot and smile back. ‘I meant that they are usually very thorough.’

‘You’re forgiven then.’ And despite her best intentions, Allegra realised she was smiling back.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Allegra,’ she said. ‘Allegra Jackson. Two l’s.’

‘I’m Aless…’ He hesitated, just for a second. ‘Alex.’

And she watched as he headed off, breathed a little sigh of relief, because normally when she said her name there was a frown, or a little flare of recognition. Her family managed to hit the newsstands with alarming regularity, and even though she was, in the main, left out of the scandal and gossip they all generated, her rather unusual first name, combined with the surname of Jackson generally led to the inevitable…’Are you Bobby Jackson’s daughter?’

He headed over to the book and signed her in in the guest column. He’d almost given his real name. It wasn’t exactly a secret but in general, and especially in London, he went by Alex Santina, businessman extraordinaire, not HRH Crown Prince Alessandro Santina. He guessed the slipup was because he’d been sitting there thinking about Santina, thinking about the angry discussion he’d recently had with his father. He was tired too, Alex realised, and that was unusual, for fatigue was a rare visitor for him. But lately he’d felt it, and today, standing in that church, it had washed over him and literally drained him. He did not recognise that he was upset; funerals did not upset him and he had attended many. He’d hardly known Charles after all.

He signed Allegra in and then walked back towards her. He’d seen her arrive and could fully understand the waitress’s mistake—often the doors opened and before they were questioned as to their membership people would shrink back, realising their mistake. But she, or rather Allegra, after a brief glance around, had taken off her coat and hung it up. There was a quiet confidence to her, an ease in her surroundings that would, Alex knew, have had the waitress assume she was a member.

He took his seat and then changed his mind and stood to take off his jacket, the waitress practically tripping over herself to catch it.

He didn’t smile at the waitress, Allegra noticed, nor did he thank her.

Nor did he glance over to the table of women who had fallen rather silent as he peeled off the black garment to reveal a crisp white shirt that set off his olive skin. There were no horrible surprises beneath his jacket, just a toe-curling moment as he tucked his shirt in a little, and Allegra again breathed in the scent of him, wanted another glimpse of that smile. But it had retreated now and he gave her the silence she’d insisted on and just sat and stared beyond her and out of the window, his index finger idly circling the top of the glass. Maybe it was too much champagne, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, maybe he had a doctorate in suggestive flirting, because for a bizarre moment she wished she were beneath his finger, wished it was her that he idly stroked.

‘Sorry.’ He misinterpreted her shifting in discomfort. ‘I’m not much company—today has been a harder one than I expected.’

‘Was it someone close?’ she asked, for it was clear he had been to a funeral.

‘Not really.’ He thought for a moment. ‘He works for me, or rather he did—Charles. We were, in fact, here last week for his retirement.’ He glanced around the room clearly remembering.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘That’s just what you say, isn’t it,’ Allegra responded, wishing he wouldn’t make her cheeks burn so, wishing he didn’t make her over-think every last word.

‘He wasn’t a friend,’ Alex said, and topped up his champagne. ‘Really, I hardly knew him—you don’t have to be sorry.’

‘Then I’m not!’ She blew up her fringe with her breath, gorgeous to look at he may be, but he really was rather hard work. ‘I’m not in the least sorry that you’ve been to a funeral and that you’re feeling a bit low. Funerals do that…’ she added. ‘Even if you hardly know the person.’

‘They don’t bother me,’ Alex said. ‘And believe me, I’ve been to many.’ And then he conceded. ‘Well, usually they don’t get to me.’

She wasn’t going to risk saying sorry again.

‘So what’s your excuse?’ He looked up from his glass. ‘Or do you regularly sit nursing a bottle of champagne in the afternoon.’

She actually laughed. ‘Er, no. I lost my job.’ He didn’t fill the silence, he didn’t offer condolences as anyone else would; he just sat until it was Allegra who spoke on. ‘Or rather I just walked out.’

‘Can I ask why?’

She hesitated, and then gave a tight shrug. ‘My boss, he…’ The blush on her cheeks said it all.

‘Not in your job description?’ Alex said, and she was relieved that he got it. ‘There are avenues for you… tribunals.’

‘I don’t want to go down that route,’ Allegra said. ‘I don’t want…’ She didn’t finish what she was saying, not quite comfortable to reveal who her family was, so she moved on without elaborating. ‘I thought I’d easily get another. It would seem I was wrong. Things really are tough out there.’

‘Very tough,’ Alex said, and though she had been looking at him, she flicked her eyes away, bit down a smart retort, for what would a man like him know about tough times?

‘I’m very conscious of my responsibility,’ Alex explained, something she had never really considered. ‘If I screw up…’ She felt the tension in her jaw seep out just a little. ‘I employ a lot of people.’ He did what for him was unusual, yet he did not hesitate; he went into his jacket and handed her his card.

‘You just found another job.’

She looked at the name—Santina Financiers—and of course she knew who he was then: Alex Santina. His companies seemed to ride the wave of financial crisis with ease. He was all over the business magazines, and… She screwed up her forehead, trying to place him further, for she had read about him elsewhere, but half a bottle of Bollinger on a very empty stomach didn’t aide instant recall.

She looked at the card and then back to him, to liquid brown eyes and the smile that was, frankly, dangerous. There was a confidence to him, an air of certainty—and she knew in that moment why he was so completely successful. There was an absence of fear to him; there was no other way she could describe it. ‘You don’t even know what I do for a living.’

His mind was constantly busy and he tried to hazard a guess. He doubted fashion—he’d seen the sensible tweed trousers that were beneath the table. And it wasn’t make-up—she wasn’t wearing a scrap. He could see the teeny indent at the bridge of her nose from glasses….

‘Schoolteacher perhaps?’ Alex mused, and he saw her pale neck lengthen as she threw her head back and laughed. ‘Librarian…’ She shook her head. ‘Let me guess,’ he said. Was it ridiculous that he was vaguely turned on as he tried to fathom her? He looked into eyes that were very green, a rare green that took him to a place he hadn’t been in ages, to long horse rides in Santina, right into the hills and the shaded woods, to the moss he would like to lie her down on. No, he wasn’t just vaguely turned on; he saw the dilation of her pupils, like a black full moon rising, and maybe he knew what she did, because there was comfort there in her eyes, there was deep knowing too, and he wanted to stay there. ‘Those phone lines—’ he moved forward just a little ‘—when people don’t know what to do…’ He saw her blink, could feel the warmth of her knee as he brushed against it. ‘They ring you?’

‘No.’ She didn’t laugh at this suggestion, she hardly dared move, because she could feel his leg and wanted it to stay there, wanted to lean across the table and meet his mouth, but she snapped herself out of it, pulled back in her seat and ended whatever strange place he had just beckoned her to. ‘I work in publishing—I’m a copy editor. Was,’ she added. She wanted to signal the waitress, wanted a glass of water, hell, she’d take the jug and pour it over herself this second.

‘I’m sure I could find you something….’

That really would be out of the frying pan and into the fire, Allegra thought, offering him back his card with a shake of her head. But her hand trembled slightly as it did so, because what a lovely fire it would be to burn in.

‘I’ll find something.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ Alex said. ‘Keep it. You might change your mind.’

‘Do you normally go around hiring your staff in bars?’

‘I leave the hiring to others. If you ring that number you would only get as far as my assistant, Belinda. I can tell her to expect—’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Allegra interrupted. ‘I’m just talking, not asking for a solution.’

‘It is how my brain works,’ Alex admitted. ‘Problem—solve it.’

‘When sometimes all you have to do is listen.’

She watched as he visibly wrestled with such a suggestion, guessed that this man was not used to sitting idly by in any situation, that he was more than used to coming up with a rapid solution. But as he took another drink and stared out to the bar where he had stood with his colleague last week, perhaps it dawned on him then that not everything came with a solution, and he gave a small nod. ‘Charles had many plans for his retirement—he was talking about them last week. I guess it got me thinking.’

Allegra nodded.

‘All the things you want to do,’ he continued, ‘intend to do… cannot do.’

‘Cannot?’ Allegra asked, because surely a man like Alex could do anything he wanted. He had looks that opened doors, and from his name, from the cut of his hair to the beautifully shod feet, she knew it wasn’t his finances that would stop him.

‘This time next year…’ He was unusually pensive, not that she could know, but now, this afternoon, he felt as if time were running out. ‘I’ll be married.’

Allegra gave him a very wide-eyed look. ‘If you’re engaged then you should not be joining women in a bar and sharing a bottle of champagne with them. Shouldn’t be…’ She halted, not wanting to voice the word, because for a little while there they’d been flirting—not even flirting, far more than that. It had felt as if they had been kissing. She really was going now anyway; he’d nearly finished the bottle. And maybe it was an overreaction to leave so hastily, but there was something about him that screamed warning. Not that he was inappropriate, more the wander of her own thoughts, because his mere finger on a glass had had her mind wandering. Something about him told her he’d make it terribly, terribly easy to break very firm rules.

‘Don’t leave…’ As she put down the note his fingers pressed over hers, wrapped them around the bill and held them a fraction. It was first contact and it was blistering; she could feel the heat from his fingers warm not just her own but race, too, to her face. ‘I’m not in love… I’m betrothed.’

‘There’s a difference?’ She smarted, though she was curious as to his unusual choice of word. She’d never heard a man, never heard anyone, describe themselves as betrothed. What was the difference?

‘God, yes.’

Go, her mind told her, just turn around and go! Except his hand was still curled around her fingers and there was sudden torture in the dark eyes that held hers.

‘I am Crown Prince Alessandro Santina.’ He was too weary to dodge the facts and so rarely wanting of conversation, strangely willing to reveal his truth. ‘I have been told I am to return and fulfill my duties.’

She could not have known just how many times she would replay that moment—could never have guessed how often she would look back to the very last time that she could simply have walked away.

She didn’t though.

Despite herself, Allegra sat and heard the rest.

CHAPTER TWO

‘SHE was chosen for me.’

She knew about arranged marriages, except she was rather surprised to hear that that might be a problem for him. He didn’t look like a man who would do anything he didn’t want to, and he was hardly a teenager. ‘How old are you?’ She said it without thinking and then winced at her own rudeness, realising he could guess at her thought process, but he gave a begrudging smile before answering.

‘Thirty-three.’ He even gave a half-laugh, gave her a glimpse of those beautiful white teeth, then he sighed. ‘And yes, completely able to make my own decisions. It is rather more complicated though. It would seem that my party time in London is over.’ He gave a shrug. ‘That is how my family see it. I have, in fact, been working, extremely hard, but it’s time, my parents tell me, to come back, to face duty.’ He drained his glass and refilled it. ‘To marry.’

‘Do you love her?’

‘It’s not a question of love, more that we are suited. Our parents are close—it was decided long ago.’ He tried to explain what he had been thinking about before she had entered the bar. ‘I am happy here in London. There are many things I still wish to do with the business.’

‘And you can’t once you’re married.’

‘Once married I must assume royal duties—full-time. Produce heirs…’ He saw her blink. ‘I’ve offended—’

‘Not at all,’ Allegra said. ‘I’ve just never heard it referred to as that—’producing heirs.’ The term’s usually ‘have children.’”

‘Not when you will one day be king.’

‘Oh.’ She seemed to be saying that an awful lot, but really, she had no idea what else to say. It was not exactly a world she could envision.

‘I am told I cannot put the official engagement off.’

‘Can’t you just end it?’ Allegra asked. ‘Just call it off?’

‘For what reason?’ Alex asked. ‘It would shame her if I said I simply did not want to marry her. She does not deserve that.’

‘Does it worry you?’ How utterly he intrigued her! ‘I mean, if you don’t love her, are you worried about…?’ She wanted him to fill in the word, but of course he did not. ‘Well, I do read the magazines. I might not have known you were a prince, but I do know the name, and if I remember rightly, you do have a bit of a reputation. Does it worry you settling down?’

‘Fidelity?’ He was so direct, so straight to the point, that she could not help but fidget. She scratched her temple and tried to think of a better way of wording it, but settled for a nod instead, to show him that was indeed her question. ‘That won’t be an issue—as long as I am discreet.’ She was far too expressive, because she screwed up her nose.

‘You’re walking into a marriage knowing you are going to be unfaithful….’

‘It’s a duty marriage. Anna has been chosen for she will one day make a most suitable queen. It is not about love,’ he explained, but her lips were pursed. ‘You don’t approve?’

‘No.’ It had been her champagne, he’d chosen to join her—she had every right to be honest, every right to give her opinion if he chose to sit here. ‘I don’t see the point in getting married if that’s how you feel.’ She was speaking from the heart—Allegra actually had very firm views on this. She adored her parents, but their rather unique interpretations of marriage vows had had her crying herself to sleep so many times growing up that, on this, she would not stay silent.

‘Our ways are different. I am not saying that I will…’ He never discussed such things, his family never discussed such things, but there were unspoken rules and his betrothed understood them. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. I am just talking, not asking for a solution.’

He watched as the pout was replaced by a very reluctant smile. ‘Touché,’ she said, and after a brief hesitation she nodded, perhaps ready to listen without judging now.

‘Our family is very much in the spotlight.’

‘Believe me, that part I do understand. I know all about families and spotlights,’ Allegra grumbled. And she told him—well, a little, but far more than she usually told another person. After all, if he was a prince then he had far more to lose from indiscretions than she. It actually wasn’t down to half a bottle of champagne or a handful of nuts and wasabi peas; it was simply the company, sitting in their little alcove, huddled together and putting the world to rights. It was a tiny pause before they headed back out there.

‘My family loves the drama. My sister Izzy was on a talent show…’ He had not a clue what she meant. ‘To find a pop star.’

Alex shook his head; he rarely watched television and if he did it was only to see the news. ‘Why would that impact on you?’

‘It’s not just Izzy. My dad used to play football in the Premiere League,’ she explained. ‘He’s like royalty here—except…’ She hesitated then looked into his eyes, saw his brief nod and knew she could go on. ‘It’s just one scandal after another. Last year there was an unauthorised biography published about him.’ He watched the colour swoosh up her cheeks. ‘It was terrible….’

‘Inaccurate?’

‘Yes,’ she attempted then shook her head. ‘No—it was pretty much all true, but you know how things can be twisted.’

‘Is that why you didn’t want to report your boss?’

He was way too perceptive, Allegra thought.

He was also right.

‘They’ve had a field day with the Jacksons recently.’ She told him about the scandals, about her mother, Julie, and the affair that her father had had with Lucinda, that he was now married to Chantelle, but still friendly with Julie. She talked about Angel, who was Chantelle’s daughter, and Izzy, who belonged to both Bobby and Chantelle. Allegra even had to get out a beer mat at one point and draw a little family tree. ‘The book made it all sound so grubby.’ She looked down at the beer mat, saw that perhaps it was. ‘It really hurt my dad—oh, he said it didn’t, did his usual ‘any publicity is good publicity’ spiel, but I know it upset him. I’m trying to put it right.’

‘How?’

‘I want to write an authorised one—I’ve started it actually. I’ve got loads of memories, hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures.’ He saw the flare of something he recognised in her eyes—that mixture of focus and passion that met him in the mirror each morning, the commitment that meant it was killing him to walk away from his work. ‘I want to set the record straight.’

‘Well, you’ve worked in publishing so you’ve got the right contacts,’ Alex said. ‘Write it.’

She laughed, as if it were that easy. ‘You’ve no idea how much work—’

‘You don’t have a job!’ He smiled but she shook her head; he simply didn’t get it—and why would he? It hurt too much to sit and talk about impossible dreams, so instead she asked about him.

‘What about your family tree? I’m sure it’s a lot less complicated than mine, a lot less scandal.’

‘Actually…’ He stopped then, for the most bizarre moment he had been about to tell her, about to speak about something that was completely forbidden, even within palace walls, especially within the palace walls—the constant rumour that his sister Sophia was possibly the result of an affair with a British architect. He looked to her green eyes staring out from beneath her heavy fringe and thought how nice it would have been to tell her, to admit as she so readily had, that his family might not be completely perfect.

‘It’s pretty straightforward,’ he said instead.

‘Lucky you.’ Allegra sighed. ‘I’m the boring, reliable one, of course. They won’t believe that I’ve lost my job.’ He watched her snap her eyes closed on panic. ‘If I don’t get a job soon I won’t be able to keep up my rent and I’ll end up back at Dad’s and be sucked back into the vortex.’ He did understand that feeling, her eyes told her that he did, for he leant over and his eyes held hers.

‘That is how I feel. That is why I don’t want to return just yet. I know that the moment I do…’

‘I know,’ Allegra said, and she spoke some more, except he was only half listening, his mind elsewhere. He looked to the table where he had sat just last week, with a man on the edge of his dreams who now lay cold in the ground, and he looked to the window and he saw the rain. He did not want to be lying there, cold with the rain and a life half lived, dreams undone. He wanted more for his business, wanted a couple more years before he returned to the fold—but how?

‘Can’t your brother do it?’ She pulled him from his introspection and she saw him frown. ‘If you don’t want to be king…’

‘I never said I did not want to be king,’ Alex corrected. ‘Just that I would like more time.’ He frowned at her. ‘Matteo and I have had different upbringings. Of course, were anything to happen to me, he would step in, but…’ He tried to explain it, for though he never expected her to understand, today he wanted her to. ‘You said earlier, that is how people feel at funerals… that people get upset…’

‘Of course,’ Allegra said. ‘Everyone does.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘When I was seven my grandmother died. The funeral was massive. At the cemetery…’ He did not really know why he was telling her this; he had not thought of this for years, but somehow he had to make her understand. ‘Matteo was upset, my mother hushed him, then my father picked him up—I remember because it was one of the pictures in the newspaper. I started to cry,’ Alex said. ‘Not a lot, but a little. The coffin was going down and I could hear my brother, and… I started to cry and my father gripped my hand and then he gripped it tighter.’ He took a breath. ‘He was not holding my hand in comfort.’

‘I’m not with you?’

‘When we got back to the palace, before the guests arrived, my father took me to the study and removed his belt.’ Alex wasn’t saying it for sympathy; it wasn’t a sob story she was being told. It was facts being delivered. ‘He said he would not stop till I stopped crying.’

‘You were a seven-year-old boy!’ She was the one who was appalled—not Alex.

‘I was a seven-year-old prince who would one day be king,’ Alex explained. ‘He had to teach me difficult lessons. A king does not cry, a king does not show emotion….’

‘You were a child.’

‘Who would one day be king,’ Alessandro said again. ‘And around and around the argument goes. You can despise him for it, but it was a lesson my father had to teach—which he did. He taught his firstborn son—perhaps he knew it was a tough lesson, for he gave my brother more rein at least till he was older. I have what it takes—I have been raised for this purpose.’

‘I’m not surprised you want more time.’ Allegra blew up her fringe. ‘Before you have to go back to—’

‘I could always fall in love.’ His voice halted her midsentence. ‘Our people know it is not a love match—Anna knows that too. Surely if I met someone and fell in love… there would be scandal, but it would blow over.’

Allegra looked to him. ‘Maybe you should try talking to Anna.’ She gestured to the table behind them, to the ladies that had been vying for time with him. ‘Maybe she’s the one…?’

That made him laugh.

‘I will not fall in love.’ He said it so assuredly. ‘I have no time for such things. But if I said that I had…’

There was a flag rising, an alarm bell ringing, but they were slow and in the distance because by the time she registered them, she had already spoken on.

‘Said that you had what?’

‘Fallen madly in love. That love had swept me off my feet, that I had become engaged.’ He indulged in a smile at the ridiculousness of the very thought. ‘Of course, in a few short weeks I would come to my senses and realise I had made a mistake, that my new fiancée and I are not suited after all, or more likely the people would strongly object. But by then it would be over between Anna and me, and my family would want me here, in London, at least for a year or two, till things had settled down.’

‘Well…’ Suddenly her throat was dry. ‘Good luck looking.’ She watched as he went to top up her glass, except the bottle was empty and he summoned the waitress but Allegra shook her head. ‘Not for me.’ She needed space, because her mind was bordering on the ridiculous. For a moment there she’d thought he was talking about her, that they were plotting together, that this might be real.

She excused herself and fled to the safety of the ladies’, told herself to calm down—except when she looked in the mirror her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes glittered in a way they never had before. Her fringe was stuck to her forehead from the rain and she blasted it under the hand dryer, then dabbed on some powder in an attempt to calm her complexion down.

Had he been suggesting that she…? Allegra halted herself there, because it was ridiculous to even entertain such a thought—yet… Who’d have thought when she stepped inside the bar, or when she had walked out of her job, that just a few hours later she’d be sharing a bottle of champagne with the Crown Prince of Santina.

She would have hid in the ladies’ for a little while longer, would have straightened out her thoughts before heading back out there, but a couple of the women Alex had been avoiding came in then and didn’t shoot her the most friendly of looks.

‘I said that I didn’t want any more champagne.’ The waitress was about to open another bottle when she returned.

‘Just leave it there unopened,’ Alessandro said to the waitress as Allegra sat down. ‘We might have something to celebrate later.’

‘Not with me you won’t,’ Allegra said.

‘We could just take it back to my—’

‘I think you’ve very much got the wrong impression of me,’ Allegra said primly, so primly she hoped he could not hazard a guess as to her suddenly wild thoughts, because she would love him to pick up that bottle, would love to dive into a taxi and be kissed all the way back to his place, to sit and drink champagne on a sheet rumpled by their lovemaking. God, but she’d had too much to drink and, mixed with this man, she was having trouble attempting rational thought. ‘Half a bottle of champagne and I’m well over my limit—and I don’t leave bars with men I’ve barely met.’

‘I was joking,’ Alex lied, for he had been hoping. ‘What about my other suggestion? Do you want to be my fiancée?’

‘Alex…’ Allegra said. ‘Why, when I didn’t even want to have a drink with you, do you think I’d even entertain—’

‘A million pounds.’

She laughed, because these things didn’t happen, and he had to be joking. When he pulled out a chequebook, she laughed even more, because it was crazy. Except when he handed it to her, his hand was completely steady and he wasn’t laughing.

‘You might not have to do anything. I will fly to Santina tomorrow and tell my family and Anna. The people will be outraged. Soon enough I’ll be told to reverse my foolish decision, to come back to London till the scandal dies down.’

‘So what are you paying me for?’

‘I can’t just invent someone—you might have to join me in Santina at some point.’ He anticipated her reaction, because as she opened her mouth he spoke over her. ‘You would have your own suite—a couple cannot be together until they are married. All you would have to do is smile and hang on to my every word.’

‘Until?’

‘Until the people dictate otherwise.’ He gave a shrug. ‘It might be days, it might be weeks.’ He looked to the cheque and so, too, did Allegra, and she thought about it—hell, she really thought about it. He wasn’t asking for her to sleep with him, just to smile and hold his hand. And what she could do with the money… She could get a flat, a job—actually, she could do what she really wanted….

‘You could finally write that book.’ It was as if he had stepped into her mind. She heard his voice as if he was inside it, but it was madness, it couldn’t work.

‘We’ll make it work,’ he answered her unvoiced words. ‘Is that a yes?’ Alex asked.

She looked back at him, thought not just of the book she could write but a link to this man, this beautiful man who had entered her life, and somehow she simply wasn’t quite ready to let go of him. ‘I think so.’

They stepped out onto the street, and she was wrong about taxis, for a luxurious car was waiting and it took them just a few streets down.

‘Shouldn’t you deposit it?’ Alex asked.

‘Okay.’ She grinned and walked into the bank and watched the eyebrow of the cashier rise a good inch. ‘Funds won’t be available till the cheque is cleared.’

‘Ring my bank and get it cleared now,’ Alex said, and she looked at the name on the cheque and did as told. There was the strangest feeling in her stomach as the cashier handed her a slip with her bank balance, a sort of great weight she hadn’t been aware she’d been carrying suddenly lifted.

‘Now, we shop.’

‘Shop?’

‘A fiancée needs a ring.’

They poured back into his car, laughed all the way along the street.

‘Shouldn’t I have royal jewels?’ God, she was tipsy.

‘You should, but…’ They were outside a very smart jewelers. ‘At least this you will be able to later sell. The acting starts here,’ he warned as he pushed a bell and the door opened. She stood there and looked at rings as the jeweler came out, and the acting did start here, because he held her hand as he spoke with jeweler, told them what he had in mind and they were whisked away, to view jewels kept well away from the window.

‘What about this?’ Alex turned to his fiancée but he had lost her attention, her eyes drawn not to the diamond ring he was holding, but to another that to Allegra was far more exquisite.

‘It’s heavenly.’ She picked it up—a brilliant emerald, so huge that it looked like a dress-up ring, but Alex shook his head.

‘Should be a diamond…’

‘Oh!’ She put it back down, remembered her place, that this was not real; she was merely playing a part. He put his head to her ear in a supposed romantic murmur. ‘Diamonds are more valuable.’

‘Perhaps.’

And he saw her longing for the ring, saw the moss of Santina in the jewel of her eyes. Perhaps an emerald would be more fitting and he hesitated for just a moment. After all, what did it matter? Soon it would be done, she would be gone, so she might as well have a ring to her liking.

He slid it on her finger.

‘We’ll size it,’ the jeweler said.

‘No need,’ Alex said. ‘It fits perfectly.’

‘I’ll give it a polish and box it,’ the jeweler said, but Alex’s hands were still holding hers, and they looked for all the world like a young couple in love, on the edge of their future, and she felt this wash of emotion for all that was not.

‘I don’t want to take it off,’ she admitted.

Allegra was confused and a little embarrassed to face him after he’d paid and they’d stepped outside.

‘Well done,’ Alex said. ‘You almost had even me convinced, though that is not the ring a future queen would choose.’

‘It’s heavenly.’

‘It’s yours,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you home.’

She gave his driver her address and of course they couldn’t discuss it in the car, so as they pulled up to her little flat and presumably because he was her fiancé, he saw her to her door, or rather the entrance on the street.

‘I’d rather you didn’t come up… it’s messy. I wasn’t expecting—’

‘I don’t care!’ He hushed her excuses.

He didn’t care and Allegra knew that—not about the mess in the flat, nor the chaos he was creating. Nor, she must remember, did he actually care about her.

‘What happens now?’

‘You write your book.’ Alex smiled. ‘I’ll fly to Santina in the next few days and break the news. I guess we should swap phone numbers.’

She tapped in his and when she had finished he picked up her hand and looked at the ring now on her finger. ‘It’s actually very beautiful.’ He looked more closely and then still held her hand and looked at her, saw she was suddenly nervous, perhaps regretting what she had done. ‘It really is just for a short while. Allegra, thank you.’

And she knew his kiss was coming. It was a kiss goodbye, a kiss to seal the deal, euphoria perhaps. It wasn’t just his smile that was dangerous, his kiss was too.

He lowered his head down and his mouth was warm and firm and just so absolutely expert. She breathed in his scent and she felt his lips and knew in a second he would end it. It was just a kiss to seal the deal, Allegra told herself.

He moved his head back, their lips parting, and she watched as he pressed his together, as if tasting her again. He smiled down at her, just a little, a warning smile, for he indulged again, lowered that noble head to hers. And it was a kiss called euphoria, she told herself, for it was not really her he was kissing, but a glimpse of the freedom he craved. And she kissed him back, because he made her weak, because the stroke of his tongue was completely sublime. He put his hand in the small of her back as if to steady her—and thank goodness he did, for if the previous kiss could have been covered by a handshake, then this one moved completely out of bounds.

His tongue was cool and his hand was warm, and when one hand would not do to hold her, when more than gravity was needed to anchor them to earth, he kissed her all the way to the wall. This dance of lips and hands in hair, two locked mouths and the strength of a wall to hold them up as he kissed her more thoroughly than she’d ever even dreamt of.

Heavens but it was thorough, so thorough that for decency’s sake it had to end. She looked up into eyes that were wicked, as if absolutely he knew what he’d do with her, all things she would never allow and it was imperative that she correct him.

‘What I said before about us not…’ She swallowed. ‘I meant it. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.’ With that kiss, she knew she just had. ‘I think I’ve had too much champagne….’

‘You’re a strange mix.’ His hand was still in her coat; he wanted to lift her jumper, slide his hand to her skin, but Alex was also sensible, very used to women falling in love with him. In a situation such as this one, that would never do. ‘You are right,’ he said, ‘it might confuse things.’