The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One)

by Lyla Payne

  Salvy’s fist flew without permission, smashing into his cousin’s jaw. Luca stumbled backward but didn’t fall, taking a moment to blink away stars and rub his chin before giving Salvadore a conniving grin. “You never did have any self-control. This time, it’s going to come back to haunt you. Remember…no one can have everything. Least of all you.”

  Luca turned and left. Salvy cursed and shook his hand out, the joints in his fingers throbbing and red. When he made eye contact with Chesapeake, she shook her head.

  “Men are all the same,” she sighed. “But honestly, I would have clocked him, too. What a waste of space.”

  “On that we can agree.” He guided her into the waiting car, eager to be alone. He needed to get into the kitchen and find some ice for his hand so the swelling didn’t get too bad. Explaining the injury to Magdalena wouldn’t go over too well. She wouldn’t be even as mildly amused as Chesapeake.

  The woman paused halfway in the backseat of the car, one leg still connected to the drive. “You know, there are things in this life more important than women and money. But love? That’s tricky.”

  She withdrew without giving him a chance to respond, not that he would know what to say, anyway.

  Salvy shut the door behind her and rapped the roof twice with his good hand, cuing the driver to go. He watched the car pull out of the drive, then spun and headed into the house in search of that ice. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the confrontation with Luca, then the advice from Chesapeake, out of his head.

  Did the people of Cielo really want to love him, and would do so regardless of his following through at the ball? Would Luca follow through on his threats to use Salvy’s relationship with Maggie to force him out of line for the crown?

  Was what he felt for Magdalena love? And if it was…what was he willing to give up to find out?

  He couldn’t please his father and himself. He couldn’t be a good prince, the kind of leader Magdalena believed he could be—hell, the kind she encouraged him to be—and stay with her.

  He couldn’t choose her over his family, or he would, in the long run, ruin them both.

  Chapter Twenty

  Magdalena

  “Yes, final fittings in three days,” Maggie said into the phone, holding up a finger to the tailor waiting impatiently to finish his question. “I need both you and Elisa here for about an hour. Thanks, Your Highness.”

  It was still strange to address Nico and Salvadore by their titles, but it was proper, especially in front of her staff. Their staff. Whatever.

  “Okay, what’s the problem?”

  The tailor in front of her went on about the pregnant maid who would need seams let out of her serving garb before the big day, then about an order of fabrics that was delayed.

  “Let’s wait until two days before to get the final measurements on the maid, and not worry about her until then. As far as the fabric, let me make a few calls.”

  The work was keeping her busy, but it couldn’t totally keep her mind off the looming deadline her father faced. In a few short days they would indeed be homeless, if he gave in to the pressure. Even though she’d asked him to wait, to see whether she could do anything about it, she was starting to think that had been only lip service.

  You could ask Salvadore directly if anything could be done.

  Maggie sighed, hanging up the phone from the shipping company that had lost their fabric. Even though she’d told Salvy about what she and her father—and other people across the country—were facing, she hadn’t come right out and asked if there was anything he could do. It seemed unfair, to take advantage of their friendship. Or whatever it was now. He’d said he would talk to the King but had not brought it up again, which should signal to her that the subject was closed.

  Except people were hurting. She knew that he cared, deep down, even if he didn’t have any practice acting on those feelings. She knew he was capable of so much more than he gave. Perhaps this could be the moment he proved what she believed to his people.

  The thought made her chest swell with pride. It would be a beautiful moment, to have the subjects of Cielo look at Prince Salvadore and see what she had always seen. A strong, caring man with good instincts, love for his family and country and charm to spare.

  A text buzzed on her phone, and since it was still in her hand, she took a moment to look down. Her heart thudded when she saw it was from Barty.

  They’re calling the fire at Matrigna foul play. They know there was a break-in. Brigida is freaking out that they’re going to find out about her keys and she’ll get fired. Or worse.

  Maggie’s mouth was dry as she quickly typed back. They can’t know who it was, and we were careful. Tell her to calm down.

  Maybe the police had no way of figuring out who, exactly, broke into that office, but the person who somehow had the ability to get information on half the country might be able to find out. Her stomach hurt just thinking about what would become of her, and her father, then.

  The rest of the evening passed quickly. Preparations were paying off and with a staff of twenty, counting her, working fifteen hours a day, they would be ready for the ball, which took place in less than a week now. The past ten days had been, oddly, some of the best of her life.

  It didn’t seem right to be enjoying herself so much while her father was dying, while the future they’d worked so hard for was crumbling, but when she was with Salvy all of the shit fell away.

  Speaking of Salvy…

  Maggie looked down at her watch and then stretched. It was after midnight, and the last of the others had left twenty minutes ago. Now that she’d stopped working, her stomach grumbled and she thought she’d grab a sandwich from the kitchen before making the dark trek to Salvadore’s door. She didn’t want to waste any time eating once she arrived, and since it had been over twenty-four hours since they’d seen each other, she guessed that he wouldn’t either.

  Her body got hot thinking about what they would do instead, and her steps quickened on their way to the kitchen. Anna, the head chef, made a mean chicken salad. Maggie’s mouth watered thinking that there might be a container left in the fridge.

  She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Salvadore at the large prep island, a spoonful of Froot Loops halfway to his mouth.

  He gave her a tired smile. “Busted.”

  Maggie laughed, feeling tension fall off her neck and shoulders like flakes of rust. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  All of his secrets were safe with her, but what about hers with him? Could a man in his position even make promises to keep secrets, when the press lived to splash his life all over the tabloids?

  She pushed away the worry and headed for the fridge, but Salvy beat her there with three big steps. He leaned down and pulled her lips to his, giving her a lingering kiss that only pushed the heat in her blood between her thighs.

  “Are you looking for food?” he asked after pulling away. “I would have fed you.”

  “I was hoping for other kinds of sustenance from you.” She winked, a heady sense of power tickling her stomach at the immediate lust that sparked in his eyes. “And something other than cereal and toast.”

  “Well, then, by all means, let’s get you fed. What sounds good?”

  “I can make my own sandwich, Salvadore.”

  “Yes, I know. But you’re dead on your feet and I need you to have boundless energy later tonight. So, please. Allow me to very selfishly make you dinner.”

  Maggie held up her hands in surrender and headed to the stool next to the one he’d been using. His Froot Loops were getting soggy, but they were disgusting to start with, so it probably didn’t matter.

  “What kind of sandwich?” he asked, his voice muffled by the contents of the fridge as he rummaged.

  “Chicken salad, of course. Like I would choose anything else when I know Anna made a big tub of that magic stuff.”

  “You are a woman of exceptional taste.” He shot her a sly smile. “But we already knew that.”r />
  “Don’t flatter yourself, Salvy. I would choose that chicken salad over you six days of the week.”

  “And the seventh?”

  “I mean, a woman has needs.”

  Their friendly, familiar banter relaxed her further. It had been days since she’d let herself wonder what he really saw in her, or how she measured up to all of the other women in his life. Since she’d let herself go down the road to the fantasy that she knew was only hers—that a way existed in which they could be together.

  It was hopeless, she knew that, but her heart was in this now. The ball would break her, regardless, so she didn’t see the harm in daydreaming now and then.

  “Here you go, m’lady.” Salvy slid a plate in front of her and settled back onto his stool. He scooped up another spoonful of cereal, seemingly unconcerned with its soggy state.

  Her plate contained the chicken salad on a fluffy, fresh croissant, a scattering of potato chips—sweet potato, her favorite—and a pile of pineapple and strawberries. Magdalena dug in and they ate quietly together for a couple of minutes.

  The television suspended from the ceiling was on and even though the sound was off, a news story caught her eye. It was Salvadore and the woman he’d told her about, the one working for Cielo’s aid organizations overseas. They stood at a podium in front of a crowd of press, and along the bottom of the screen ran a caption: Prince Salvadore Piacere Dodges Questions about Local Mistress.

  The last of the sandwich turned to dust in her mouth. Maggie forced herself to swallow instead of spit it out, then turned accusing eyes on Salvadore.

  “What?” he asked, pulling his focus from the last two loops he was trying to force onto his spoon.

  “That!” She pointed, trying not to hyperventilate.

  “Oh, that. Calm down, it was nothing. I handled it.”

  “What do they know? That’s not a random question, Salvadore!”

  “It was a random question.” He reached over and took her hands in his, applying pressure until she met his gaze. His blue eyes were calm, and honest. “They’re fishing. Calling Cielo is always making up one story or another to try to trick us into saying something we didn’t mean to. It’s what Julia calls journalism.”

  Her heart slowed down, but she still worried. “How can you be sure?”

  “There have been rumors for years that I must have a woman or two to keep company with when I’m home in Arcobaleno. She’s insinuating that I’ve already decided who I’ll choose at the ball.”

  “Is it true?” she asked, hating that she sounded like a jealous girlfriend.

  “Do you really want to know, my sweet?” His eyes softened, and so did the way he touched her hands. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles over her knuckles. “I know you have not been alone all of these years, and I would not have wanted to imagine you that way. I do not, however, wish to know details about these other men who have been in your life. Have possessed you.”

  “That’s an odd way of putting it.”

  He gave her a smile, his eyes a mixture of regret and affection. “It is the way of the world, is it not? For the past week, you have possessed me, Magdalena. You possess me now, and you have given yourself to me in return. The question is, what shall we do with each other in the time we have left?”

  Maggie managed to shake off her anxiety over Salvadore’s past, and over whether they would both survive this poor decision unscathed. She smiled at him, letting his beautiful eyes and the soft movements of his fingers thread a sizzling desire through her, instead.

  “I suppose you have a few ideas,” she teased, leaning in to kiss his neck.

  “Mmmm. Yes, but we’ll need to get to my place. Anna is a clean freak. She’d kill us both and happily pay the price if she found out we soiled her pristine workspace.”

  Maggie laughed, and swiped the last strawberry off her plate. “Truth. Well, lead the way.”

  “You just want to stare at my ass while I walk.”

  She shrugged, meeting his gaze with a playful one of her own. “Gotta cash in my perks while I can.”

  “Far be it from me to deprive you.”

  Salvy put their plates in the sink and then grabbed her hand, leading her out of the kitchen and through the dark, empty hallways that led from the servants’ areas to the door closest to his house.

  Once on the porch, he stopped. “The grass is pretty wet. Hop on.”

  “I thought we decided to wait until we got to your place.”

  “On my back, dirty girl. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  Maggie hesitated, but then hopped into his waiting hands, slinging her arms around his neck. He used to give her piggyback rides all the time, but obviously, not lately. He felt delicious between her thighs, his strong hands beneath her legs and the sweet smell of him near her nose as she buried it in wisps of his hair.

  “I can’t believe Salvadore Piacere just told me to get my mind out of the gutter. Have you been body snatched? Are you an alien?”

  “I am able to think of things other than sex,” he complained. “I just choose not to.”

  That made her laugh, and he answered with a deep baritone of his own. They giggled together as he bounced her over the wet, cold grass to the house he used when in country—the house that could fit five of her father’s and still have room to spare.

  “Good evening, James,” Salvadore greeted his man outside the door, still chuckling.

  “Sire,” came the reply from the darkness. “Miss.”

  They tumbled through the front door and straight to the bedroom, where Salvy turned around and dropped her on the king-sized bed. She bounced once before he landed on top of her, the weight of him delicious as it pushed her into the fluffy blankets.

  Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue brushing her with unspoken demands. Maggie responded, her hands roaming his hard abs under his sweater. He kissed her as he worked her pants button loose and then tugged them off in one smooth movement, yanking her legs until her ass was on the edge of the bed.

  When he got on his knees and kissed the inside of her thighs, working inward, the blood rushed from her head. Desire swamped her, and she reached down and curled her fingers in his dark hair as he licked and sucked her into oblivion.

  “Oh my god. Holy shit,” she moaned, leaning back and letting herself fall open for him. He slipped a finger, then another, inside her. It only made her hungry for the long thickness of his dick and she ground against him, shaking as he nudged her closer and closer to the edge of a cliff.

  Maggie shrieked as she tumbled over, clenching around his fingers and rubbing herself against his tongue as the waves of pleasure threatened to drown her. The world was gone for so long she thought she might have passed out.

  When she came back to her senses he was hovering over her, a condom already in place and a shit-eating grin on his beautiful face.

  He was beautiful, too. Not only sexy, not only infuriating or careless, though he was those things, too. Beautiful, all the way through, but complicated.

  I love you.

  No. Don’t say it, you fool. Don’t ruin it.

  A strange expression took the place of his smile and he gazed into her eyes as he used a knee to nudge her legs farther apart and slid inside her one inch at a time. She felt as if they were fused together, from their eyes all the way to their middles.

  The rhythm was slow, almost maddeningly so, as they watched each other. She saw pleasure, and sadness, and then adoration hang in his eyes as he rocked inside her.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lowering his head to brush a fiery line of kisses down her neck.

  Maggie tightened her legs around him and lifted her hips off the bed, inviting him deeper. Salvy groaned and moved faster, seeming to lose himself in the moment. She closed her eyes and did the same, trying to memorize the way his hard body felt as it slid against her breasts, the way he felt deep inside her, the smell of aftershave and sweat and sex that swirled around them.

  They came to
gether, and her orgasm lasted longer than she’d ever believed possible. After they’d caught their breath, Salvy rolled off her and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his condom while she skittered into the bathroom to clean up.

  “Here.” She tossed him a warm towel when she came back.

  “You’re the best,” he told her, though his face held a hesitance that suggested he’d wanted to say something else.

  “I think you’re up for that title, after that sex. Jesus.”

  “We’re pretty good together, Magdalena.”

  “That’s true.” She was sated, and loopy enough not to consider every word that came out of her mouth, which made agreeing with him easier.

  Salvy lay down on his back, tugging her into his chest, and tangled one hand in her long hair.

  The silence overwhelmed her. She was too happy, too satisfied. Too unable to remember her troubles, or to see her life when their time together came to the big, looming dead end.

  Guilt crashed in. She thought of her father, of how she would take care of him when they had no place to go. That he would die unhappy because everything he’d built was stolen in a matter of days.

  She thought of all of the other people in Arcobaleno, and in Cielo, who were victims of the same asshole. And here she was, naked in bed with a man who had the power to do something about it, and in that moment, she knew that not asking for help would be one of the most selfish things she’d ever done.

  But he felt so good. She loved him, for better or worse, and even if it made her a terrible person, she wanted one more night. The real reason she hadn’t asked for his help until now welled up inside her, and she felt the truth of it with every cell in her body.

  If he refused to help, if he told her that it wasn’t his place or that, like the King, he didn’t feel there was anything he could do to help the common people his family was supposed to protect, Maggie knew she would struggle to see him the way she always had.