The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One)

by Lyla Payne

  “I’m sure it was.” Salvy felt tired all of a sudden. It had been a long week. “To be honest, she can wear whatever she wants. I don’t care.”

  “All well and good, but I suspect the King—and your brother—would like her to look like part of the family and not some ragamuffin pulled in from the streets to shine shoes.” She sighed and turned back to a fresh piece of paper, picking up a pencil and toying with it between her fingers. “She should look royal, and gorgeous, but also like her, you know?”

  Salvy couldn’t help himself, then. He moved and stood at her back, leaning over to put a hand on the table so he could see her newest sketch.

  He felt her sharp intake of breath as his chest brushed her back, and resisted the urge to press closer. It had been so long since he’d wanted anyone in a meaningful way, but sitting here, having a conversation or helping her figure out details of Elisa’s clothes, felt almost as nice as getting her naked.

  Odd, but kind of refreshing.

  “How about something sort of Indian inspired? Rich colors and fabrics, but long pants?”

  “Like the Bollywood girls?” She started swiping her pencil over the paper, no longer bothered by his nearness.

  Salvy took advantage and breathed her in, watching her work like she was Picasso as he stood in the stillness she created. He hadn’t been still in years, he realized now, which was a funny thing to think. His father would say the opposite, as would the millions of people who gobbled up “news” from the gossip sites around the world, but shirking one’s duties and truly standing in a moment with no desire to leave it were two different things.

  Time passed. He gave suggestions here and there, taking every opportunity to lean closer, to let her hair brush his arm, to pretend they were going back to his house together after this. The image filled in—a lush, sky blue satin covered with cherry tree vines that burst into green leaves and pink blossoms across the loose fitted pants and the matching top, the barest hint of belly showing where it scraped the high waist of the bottoms.

  “What do you think?” she asked him, looking up so that their faces hung inches apart. Excitement littered her eyes with stars.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed, not taking his gaze from her face. Unable to stop himself, even though he knew she would understand that he wasn’t talking about the picture, but about her, and that he was already breaking the promises made to himself so recently.

  “Salvy…”

  Her eyes fluttered like they wanted to close and it would have been so easy to lean in, to catch her lips with his and kiss her until neither of them could stand. He wanted her so badly he could taste it, and instinct said she might not resist. He wanted to grab her and set her on the table, undressing her one button at a time until her body was bared to him.

  The image taunted him, but for the first time in his life, the reality of the days to come stopped him from plucking the blossom in front of him. He couldn’t do that to her, not to Maggie. In less than three weeks he would be someone else’s husband, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure he would be able to walk away from her a second time.

  Salvy gathered his self-control and leaned in, pressing a kiss to her smooth, warm forehead. “I know, Moo Moo. I’m going.”

  Her gaze filled with surprise, disappointment, and relief in equal measure. It told him that he’d made the right decision. The last thing he wanted was for any feelings Magdalena had for him, or he for her, to prevent her from being happy in her own life.

  “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

  “Bona sera. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Ten

  Magdalena

  The memory of last night, of how she’d made an idiot of herself waiting for Salvadore, the fucking crowned prince of Cielo, to kiss her, played on a loop in her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at her as if he wanted to devour her, the way her heart hammered and she’d gone shaky and wet under the intensity of his gaze.

  How he’d backed off and merely said goodnight.

  At least one of them had some self-control, but it bothered her beyond belief that he had been the one to exhibit it in that moment. Salvy, who slept with any good-looking woman who crossed his path, had declined what basically amounted to an open invitation.

  Maybe it should have pleased her, that he had taken her seriously when she’d said she wasn’t a plaything, that she wasn’t like all of those other women. For some reason, it only made her feel sixteen and discarded, again.

  “Maggie, would you pay attention? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re breaking and entering, and I’d really like to go through these files and get the hell out of here,” Brigida snapped from the semi-darkness on the other side of the small office suite.

  “Sorry,” Magdalena whispered back. They’d been in Matrigna’s offices for ten minutes, but most of the boxes contained just office supplies. Or nothing at all.

  She moved to the desk, shivering in the cold, dank space. Her breath plumed out in front of her face in frosty clouds and her fingers were so stiff it took her three tries to pry open the file cabinet drawer. They must not have the heat going at night.

  “Thank God,” she murmured, spotting a space heater beneath the desk. She flicked it on and positioned it so it blew on her shins as she managed to get the drawer open.

  The files were empty. All of them.

  “Dammit.”

  Maggie shoved the drawers shut and went to Brigida’s side, helping her paw through the remaining boxes. They found nothing but a few bills, all using the same address as this office. Whoever was running Matrigna was going to great lengths to ensure their identity remained hidden, which Magdalena thought was interesting in and of itself. Cielo was a small place; surely there were only a few people with the resources to buy up so much land.

  “I have a hard time believing the crown isn’t aware of who’s behind this. Or that they don’t care that they’re soon going to be the second biggest landholders in the country,” Brigida murmured, closing the last box and turning off her flashlight app.

  Maggie did the same, stuffing her phone in her purse. Frustration that they’d taken this risk and turned up nothing but a bunch of good questions balled between her shoulders, but at the same time, something about Brigida’s observations triggered her.

  She stood still for a moment, breathing in the darkness, waiting for whatever it was to struggle to the surface.

  “What?” Brigida asked. “Did you have an idea or should we get the hell out of here?”

  “We can go.” Maggie sighed, glancing over the useless room one more time. “I was just thinking…what if the King does know who’s behind the land buyouts. And that’s the reason he’s deciding not to get involved.”

  They slipped into the hallway, their voices lowering accordingly.

  Brigida locked the door behind them. “You mean, like he’s the one doing it?”

  Maggie shrugged. “Or one of his lackeys. Maybe Nico?”

  She winced at the suggestion. It could as easily be Salvy or Luca, or maybe someone else entirely, but it made sense, that the royal family would seize an opportunity to cement their position of power.

  “Do you really think so?” The expression on Brigida’s face was dubious. “You know them. You’ve always had nice things to say about both King Alfonso and Prince Niccolo. You really think they would stoop to blackmail to push people out of their homes? Why?”

  Magdalena’s shoulders slumped as they found their way to the street. She breathed a sigh of relief at having gotten away unscathed, and admitted to herself that Brigida was right. King Alfonso was a good, gentle king. He treated the citizens of Cielo like a parent treats dutiful, charming children, and she’d never had any reason to believe Nico wasn’t set to follow in his footsteps. Salvy wouldn’t want land—it was worth money, but he had plenty of that, and he’d made it clear he had no interest in putting down roots so close to home.

  Which left Luca. If he was the one buying up the land
and the King knew about it, Maggie didn’t think he would stand idly by—quite the opposite. Luca had been a thorn in the royal family’s side since, well, as long as anyone could remember.

  A stab of fear went through her at the thought of his threats a few days ago in the studio. If he thought he could use her friendship with Salvy to upset the family, he would do it. If he figured ousting her father as the royal tailor would have the same effect, Magdalena knew he would have no trouble pulling the trigger.

  Which meant she had to be careful. For her father, for her future, and for herself.

  “You’re right,” she told Brigida, trying to smile. “I guess we’re back to square one. Tell the others that we can give up the stakeouts. We’re not going to find anything here.”

  Her friend’s eyebrows went up. “You’re not coming?”

  “No. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow and ten more after that. I should get back to the castle.”

  “We’ll keep you updated if we hear anything, or come up with any brilliant ideas before we all give into the pressure and end up homeless.”

  “Thanks.” Maggie didn’t feel like giving her friend’s sarcasm the smile it deserved.

  She didn’t feel like smiling at all.

  A few days passed without incident. The early preparations—measuring the staff, ordering fabric, and starting to stitch together outlines for the hundreds of costumes that would be required—got underway. Salvy stopped by at least twice a day but he’d never caught her alone.

  Magdalena couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed about the last part, but she liked having him in and out, a part of her day the way he hadn’t been in years. She enjoyed the familiar heat of his body as it lingered over her shoulder or at her side while she sketched and measured, and the way he asked questions about her work as if he actually cared about fashion.

  She was alone in the workroom now. It was late, after midnight, and her neck was aching from bending over the sewing machine for the last three hours straight. The last thing on today’s agenda was to start Camilla’s dress, though Maggie struggled to understand why she felt inclined to do such a thing in the first place. Camilla was sour, superficial, snotty, and a bunch of other things Maggie had never enjoyed. She’d been Barty’s friend and had somehow latched on to the rest of them, even though no one else in the group came close to her slight social standing.

  Imagined or not, that speck of noble blood makes her eligible to marry Salvadore. Maybe you’re jealous.

  Maybe she was jealous, and that was why she’d agreed to make a dress for a girl she disliked.

  The rest of the staff had gone to bed, but Maggie’s mind was on overdrive and she hadn’t even taken a break for dinner, which was unlike her.

  A creak from behind her, along with the soft padding of footsteps, called her attention away from her sewing machine. Maggie turned, soft delight striking her in the chest at the sight of Salvadore striding across the room. He looked handsome but relaxed, wearing a pair of jeans and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

  “Hey,” he greeted her, his dimpled smile enough to make the strongest woman in the world go weak in the knees.

  “Hey yourself,” she managed, stretching her arms over her head. Her stomach growled, impossibly loud in the empty, cavernous room, and Maggie felt her cheeks go warm.

  “Well, that answers my question,” Salvy said, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. “I was heading to the kitchen to get myself a little midnight snack and saw your lights on. Knowing that you’re pretty much always up for a meal, I thought I’d see if I could prod you into joining me.”

  Magdalena hated that suspicion flooded her with as much force as pleasure that he’d thought of her. That he remembered her rabid appetite the way he’d recalled how she took her tea and that she hated being snuck up on.

  She realized that she did want to spend time with Salvy—this Salvy, the one who treated her with respect even if he did make her blood simmer in the very best way, not the one who had greeted her like a visiting prostitute a week ago. Her stomach growled again, louder than the first time, and they both chuckled.

  “I supposed there’s no point in pretending, but are you going to cook?” she asked, standing up and raising an eyebrow his direction.

  “Sure. I was planning on fixing my specialty.”

  Two could play at the memory game, and Magdalena fixed him with a look. “You’re lucky I like cereal.”

  “You like everything,” he teased back, following her as she stepped into the hallway and turned toward the kitchen.

  Maggie slowed, enjoying the feeling of his heat at her back, at the musky, male scent of him as it found its way through her hair and over her shoulders, into her nose. She had missed Salvadore as a friend, but it was a bit of a shock that, underneath her contempt and anger and hurt, the torch she carried for him had remained lit.

  They made their way into the giant, commercial kitchen and Salvy pulled out a stool at the large island and gestured for Maggie to sit. While she watched, he poured two bowls of cereal—Honey Bunches of Oats for him and Apple Jacks for her—then popped a few pieces of bread into the toaster. He worked efficiently and quietly, and Maggie enjoyed the companionable silence that helped her relax.

  When he pawed through a cabinet and came back with a bottle of cinnamon to sprinkle on the toast, a flush of warmth spread through her. He really did remember everything—she hadn’t had cinnamon toast in years.

  “Thanks,” she said, digging in and trying not to notice how close his body was to hers as he took a seat on the next stool over. “It’s good.”

  “You always were easy to please, at least in the food department.”

  She didn’t know if he meant it to sound sexual but to her ears, full of the sounds of her pounding heart, it did. Then Maggie recalled, for the hundredth time, how he’d broken her heart, and confusion muddled her desire. Her pleasure at being with him.

  “What?” Salvy asked, his blue eyes intent on her expression the way they had been so often over the past week. Since he’d waltzed back into her life like he still had a place in it.

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s weird, hanging out with you again, but it’s also nice.”

  “That wasn’t what you were thinking,” he mused, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows.

  “Not all of it,” she confessed. “I was thinking about how much has changed since the last time we saw each other, that’s all.”

  Maggie found the courage to meet his eyes, and in them, she saw that he understood what she was saying. What she wanted to know. In that moment, she wanted him to be the man she saw and not the one who graced the fronts of the tabloids.

  The man who had grown from the boy who had once cared about her.

  “Do you know why I didn’t come after you all those years ago?” He asked the question softly, his eyes never wavering on her face.

  Her body went rigid, defensiveness tightening every muscle. Maggie wanted to know the answer, so much. And yet she didn’t know whether she was prepared. “You read my diary and you didn’t feel the same. You thought I was a silly girl, that I had dumb ideas, that I would make things awkward, so you made out with Princess What’s-Her-Name to let me know where we stood.”

  “No.” He sighed, reaching out a hand and putting it over hers. His palm was dry and warm, and tight as he squeezed it around her knuckles. “No, Maggie. Look at me.”

  It took another moment or two of patience on his part, but she couldn’t resist. Even though the shutters were still drawn to her soul, he refused to do the same. She looked into his eyes and he let her see him, even though she could sense his desire to hide.

  “When I read your diary, it came as a huge surprise. I’m an idiot, so even though I loved spending time with you, and you were my best friend, too, I’d never…I’d never thought about those things. Not with you.”

  Maggie looked away, feeling like an idiot all over again.r />
  Salvy squeezed her hand harder. “No, listen. I’m saying this wrong. After I read it, after you left, I realized I felt the same way. That you were the person I wanted to tell when I had a bad day, or a good one. You were the person who made me feel like I wasn’t a waste of royal blood.”

  “But you…” She trailed off, confusion closing some of the distance between them. She was listening, but she still didn’t get it. “You kissed that girl.”

  “I was stupid, Magdalena. I was scared, because you…you weren’t the kind of girl I could fool with smiles and talk about crowns and countries. And I wasn’t ready for you. For that. I couldn’t sleep with you and walk away like nothing happened, but I couldn’t give you what you deserved, either.” He dropped his hands and curled them around hers. “I can’t now, either, but I find that I have missed you. Very much.”

  “I thought you hated me.” Her voice trembled, her heart in her throat. So many emotions flew threw her that she had no idea how to respond to any of his kind words, the ones she’d longed to hear so long ago.

  She wanted to believe him, and her soul said she could, but it was hard to let go, to drop the shield that had protected her all of these years.

  “Oh, Magdalena. I’m sorry I wasn’t mature enough to talk to you.”

  That made her laugh, but it was shaky, too. Maggie pulled her hand out from under his and ran it through her hair, trying her best to gather the pieces of her emotions that he’d scattered all over the room. “I think it’s time we put all of this behind us. Thank you for telling me this. It means a lot.”

  Their eyes met, and Maggie held her breath as a wash of tingles overtook her better judgment. In that moment, she realized that even now, even with everything going on, she would give anything to know what it felt like to be the woman in his arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  Salvadore

  Nico calling to ask him around for a drink that afternoon was a blessing. He’d slept like a baby after his talk with Maggie in the kitchen last night, feeling relief from the confession he hadn’t realized weighed heavy on his heart for all of these years.