Red mist momentarily fogged Antonio’s vision, blinding him to whatever the asshole said next. That this fool had been lucky to kiss Bella and made such a muff of it that she’d shut down? That he’d not treated her how she ought to have been?
Once more he remembered her look of surprise when that passion exploded between them. How often had she not got the pleasure she should have?
Compassion burned at the injustice. Just because he didn’t indulge didn’t mean he thought others shouldn’t, but it should always be good. Wasn’t that the point? And if it wasn’t any good, then of course she was going to say no. And the jerk here should just—
‘Your Highness?’
He turned to the man beside him, forcing on a polite smile. ‘Forgive me, I was thinking of something else.’ He drew in a breath when he realised who had stepped up to speak with him. ‘Salvatore.’ He inclined his head, making a conscious effort to unclench his fists.
‘You’re enjoying the show?’ Salvatore Accardi asked with an obsequious bow.
‘It is nice to see families out enjoying themselves together celebrating the island.’ Antonio faintly underlined the word families. ‘I enjoy San Felipe’s festival season very much.’
‘As do I.’ Salvatore smiled. ‘I’m sure you remember my daughter Francesca.’
His other daughter. The legitimate one who was a few months older than Bella.
Antonio turned slightly. Francesca Accardi was taller than Bella, her hair a glossy brunette, her slim figure beautifully dressed. ‘Of course.’
‘It is an honour to be here tonight, Your Highness.’ She smiled brightly. ‘The performances have been amazing and I’m sure the rest of the concert will be as incredible.’
‘I’m glad you are enjoying it.’ Antonio bowed, about to step away.
But Francesca suddenly spoke again. ‘My father’s new boat came into the marina after the unveiling of the new plans this morning.’
‘Francesca is a designer specialising in marine interiors,’ Salvatore chimed. ‘Graduated top in her year.’
‘Congratulations,’ Antonio replied with a nod to Francesca.
‘You might like to see our latest beauty,’ Salvatore added. ‘Her work is very unique.’
‘I’m sure it is spectacular,’ Antonio answered guardedly.
Everyone knew he liked his boats—thought they were his one indulgence. But the truth was he liked them because he could work in peace without interruption.
‘I thought the plans for the marina expansion were very interesting,’ Francesca said. ‘Overcrowding is a problem of course, but I’ve had some thoughts as to how it could be made more efficient...’ She trailed off and smiled up at him.
Was this politicising or flirting?
Antonio figured boldness was a family trait, but he felt none of the stirring he felt in the presence of her fiery half-sister. He couldn’t resist glancing over at Bella to see if the wolf jerk had made his way to her. But she stood alone, looking right back at him, her green eyes stormy and accusing, watching him talk pleasantries with the man who denied that her existence was his responsibility. As his gaze clashed with hers, she lifted her chin and she looked away without so much as a blink.
Anger bubbled. She’d deliberately blanked him. He wanted her to look at him, needing to understand that emotion in her eyes. Instead he wrenched his attention back to the woman beside him. Bella’s supposed half-sister Francesca Accardi was watching him too closely. He flicked his fingers and the aide hovering nearby stepped up.
‘This is Matteo,’ he introduced him briefly. ‘Matteo, I believe Ms Accardi has some interesting ideas on the marina development. I would like you to meet with her to discuss them.’
There was no mistaking the disappointment in Salvatore’s eyes as Antonio stepped back, leaving Matteo to arrange an appointment with Francesca. But Antonio was too used to people trying to make time with him, especially when accompanied by their single daughters. He turned back to spot Bella, but she’d vanished.
* * *
Bella sat in the plush seat in the exclusive box, one of the first to return for the second half of the variety performance. She’d intended to be one of the last—to maximise her exposure. As much as she loathed the tricks, she’d learned well from her mother. But her knees were now too wobbly to make that late entrance, her nerves too shredded from seeing Prince Antonio schmooze her father. The thing was, it was seeing Antonio that hurt more than Salvatore Accardi’s customary rudeness.
Was she so stupidly weak she trembled at the mere sight of him?
Tonight she’d dressed with as much care as if she were still stepping onto a stage in front of thousands. She’d no shortage of glamorous dresses—people paid for her to wear their designs as long as she put her picture on social media. Getting the right look took longer than imaginable but it was a necessary part of the mystique and the ‘lifestyle’ her club was selling. Having lost her ballet career, she’d no other qualifications—yet—to call on. For all their fabulousness free dresses couldn’t be eaten and she couldn’t sell them for cash. If she ever did clear her wardrobe it could only be to raise money for charity.
So if she wanted to eat, she needed to earn real money from a real job, study on the side and eventually save enough to move on to what she really wanted to do. And as much as she hated her inherited ‘notoriety’, she needed it, because without it she’d have absolutely nothing and she had to work it hard now because it wasn’t going to last—some other model or actress or lifestyle blogger would be the new flavour soon enough.
She had to be seen. Flirt if necessary. Dance in her own club. But most importantly she had to avoid the heartless Prince who’d judged and punished her so personally.
But deep down she knew she’d dressed tonight with him in mind. She’d felt his gaze on her at those other events since that morning and his attention—his disapproval—stung. She’d tried not to care that he’d left her so abruptly but she did. Too much.
She’d wanted more but he’d reacted with such fury when she’d reached for him, he couldn’t have made it clearer—she was so far beneath him.
And he was the ultimate jerk.
For a moment she’d actually thought they’d had a real kind of connection. He’d made her feel so good, then snatched it all away. She didn’t know why but that one betrayal bit deeper than all the others she’d faced in her life.
She didn’t enjoy the rest of the performance. She wanted to go and hide but she had to appear at the after-party backstage to show she wasn’t down and out, had to smile at those she’d once danced alongside, knowing how they’d talked about her, and then had to go to her club and tirelessly work it up.
When the curtain finally fell she escaped her local council companions, telling them she’d meet them at the party shortly, but it was to the now empty stage she went rather than the powder room. Even with the curtain down, that vast black expanse felt like home to her, the one place she’d felt she truly belonged. Loneliness surged and she quickly ducked back into the wings before anyone saw her.
Pull it together.
She had her new kind of show to put on tonight.
‘Bella?’
She whirled at the low whisper, blinking to get rid of the impending tears. How had he found her? Why was he alone?
‘You’re distressed.’ Antonio stood stiffly at a short distance from her. In his black tuxedo he almost disappeared into the dark wings.
‘I’m fine.’ She tried to answer evenly, never wanting him to know how much she still hurt from his behaviour.
‘Do not lie to me,’ he said, very quiet and formal. ‘Did somebody say something to upset you?’
‘No one here could say anything to upset me,’ she muttered, wishing it were true.
‘No?’ He held her captive with a mere look. ‘I just told you not to lie to me.’
‘Nobody has said anything to upset me. Yet,’ she elaborated pointedly.
The scepticism remained in his eyes. ‘Then what is it?’
She didn’t answer—couldn’t. He had no right to pry and he couldn’t expect her to open up to him now just because he was asking in that gentle tone.
‘Bella?’ He remained standing so restrained a few paces from her, yet there was that huskiness in his voice.
‘I miss it,’ she replied quickly, as hushed as he, because it was easier to talk about her ballet than what was really upsetting her. ‘I miss the moment when I’m waiting in the wings and I take a last deep breath and step forward.’
‘You miss the applause?’
She sighed inwardly at that edge. Of course she damn well did. She’d been seeking approval from someone—anyone—all her life. And she’d never got it from those supposed to love her, so yes, she’d sought it from the masses. She loved that applause and she’d worked so hard to earn it. But she heard criticism in his voice and knew he’d never understand.
‘I miss the freedom.’ The stage was where she’d felt most comfortable. ‘The feeling of being in control.’
‘Control of what?’
‘Myself. Knowing I can move the way I need to... That I’m as strong and as fast... That I’ve done the work and the world is at my feet.’ She stiffened at the look in his eyes.
‘So you’re the one who doesn’t like to lose control,’ he said softly. ‘And yet you did.’
Anger burned—swift and uncontrollable. ‘And isn’t that just what you wanted?’ she snapped. ‘To make a fool of me.’ His rejection had been her ultimate humiliation.
And she wasn’t letting it happen again.
She pulled up and tried to speak calmly. ‘You’d better go before someone comes looking and sees you talking to me.’
But he walked towards her, not away. ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘You want to gloat? To crow over your victory?’
He halted barely an inch away. ‘I don’t feel like a winner.’
‘You started. You stopped. You wanted to prove your power—’
‘I wanted to please you. I wanted to see you pleasured,’ he interrupted in a rough whisper. ‘That is all I wanted. I wasn’t thinking of anything else.’
The words, the way he said them, silenced her. A trickle of warmth worked down her spine. He’d wanted to please her? It hadn’t been about making her pay?
Confused, she gazed at him. Passion smouldered in the backs of his eyes, but the way he stood so still was so controlled. Was that because his emotions were awry? Was that because he didn’t trust himself?
‘Don’t you think I might have wanted to do the same?’ she whispered, unable to hold back even when she knew she ought.
‘I can’t.’ The words were wrenched from him. His sharply drawn breath sliced into her.
‘So you can give me pleasure but you can’t receive it?’ she asked, somehow feeling even more hurt than before. ‘You punish yourself that much?’
A wild look flared in his expression. Her heart thundered but she refused to run; instead she stepped that last inch closer to stand toe to toe with him.
‘That isn’t it,’ he muttered harshly.
‘Then what is it?’ she whispered, all caution lost. ‘You don’t like sex? Or just sex with me?’
She never talked back this way. She worked to keep men at arm’s length, smiling and dancing but maintaining distance in a finely balanced art. But with Antonio she’d lost all that ability. For the first time in her life, she wanted a man to come closer.
He gripped her shoulders, leaning in to answer her. ‘I haven’t had sex in a long time. Thanks to you, it is all I can think of now.’
Satisfaction poured into her. Raw, feminine, sensual satisfaction. ‘Then what stopped you?’
Why had he rejected her so brutally?
He didn’t answer. He just looked at her. They both knew she would have let him do anything. She’d almost begged. And he’d jerked away. That memory burned. She wanted him to burn too.
‘You’re scared you won’t be any good after so long?’ she taunted.
His laugh was short and unamused. ‘Don’t try to provoke me into proving everything to you again. It isn’t necessary.’
He gazed into her eyes, then his focus lowered to her mouth. Her limbs weakened with that languorous feeling. The low ache that had been with her for days now sharpened. She wanted a kiss. Then she wanted complete satisfaction. It was only a millimetre away. One tiny decision.
‘This situation is intolerable,’ he snapped, pulling her flush against his lean, hard frame. ‘We have to—’
‘Bella? Is that you?’
She jumped, stepping back as Antonio released her at the exact same time. A quick glance at him showed sharp cheekbones and a clamped jaw.
Erik, her former ballet partner, stood just to the side of the wings. He was someone she counted as a friend, but he was the biggest gossip in the company. And with him—watching with eagle eyes?
Sebastian. Her blood iced. Of all the creeps she’d met in the world, Sebastian was one of the worst.
‘I thought that was your dress...’ Erik paused as he looked past her and saw who she was with. ‘I’m awfully sorry. Are we interrupting?’
‘Not at all. Ms Sanchez was kind enough to show me the stage on the way to the celebration,’ Antonio answered with his customary quelling reserve, deflecting any suggestion of impropriety by demeanour alone.
For a split second Bella just gazed at him, amazed at his ability to revert to his formal ‘prince’ façade so quickly. And she now realised it was a façade. Why did he need such a remote, cold veneer? Did he never let anyone in?
He glanced at her, and she was shocked again to see that the heat had completely vanished from his eyes. A different expectation was within them now.
‘Crown Prince Antonio, may I introduce you to Erik Lansing? He was the lead dancer tonight.’ Bella obeyed Antonio’s implicit order and acted as if nothing had happened. ‘And this is Sebastian, the company’s artistic director.’
Instinctively she straightened her spine as she faced her old boss. Sebastian had decided which ballerina got which part in each production. He was the man who’d assumed she’d be happy to become his lover, who’d been angered when she’d said no. She’d had to dance better than ever to prove her worth—to make it impossible for him to deny her the parts. But she could never shake that smoke of suspicion and innuendo amongst the other dancers. Sebastian had liked to let that smoke hang in the air, refusing to have it known she’d rejected him.
‘I enjoyed your performance tonight.’ Antonio grimly acknowledged the two men who’d almost caught him in a clinch with Bella.
He’d been a breath from kissing her. And if he had, he wouldn’t have been stopping any time soon. Because she’d wanted it too. They’d have ignited the attraction sizzling between them and neither could have stopped until it had been fully assuaged.
He never should have followed her to the stage. But his curiosity—and desire—had been too strong. She fascinated him and he’d felt compelled to apologise and explain himself at least in part to her. Something he never did in a personal situation, because there were no personal situations. Until now.
But now he stood face to face with the ‘blocker’ who’d warned Jean Luc off Bella. This Sebastian slimeball was her old company’s artistic director? That title meant power—over a ballerina in the company. Presumably he could offer promotion, or he could pass her over and give a prized part to another, more willing woman. Yet Bella hadn’t given him what he’d wanted. And she stood straight, head held high, bracing herself in defiance in front of them all.
Antonio had known she had strength. Now he knew she had integrity too.
‘Thank you.’ Erik half bowed. ‘I miss Bella though. I don’t dance anywhere near as well with anyone else.’
He’d been Bella’s ballet partner? Antonio watched as Erik slung his arm along her shoulders. Bella smiled at Erik but the look in her eyes wasn’t the same as when she looked at Antonio. There was no desire, no anger, no passion
. There was only a sorrow-tinged amusement. She didn’t want the same thing from Erik as she wanted from him.
Even so, Antonio’s stomach tightened. The jealousy was ridiculous. He was no better than any of the other predators in suits, sniffing around her.
‘I must return to the other guests,’ he clipped, his jaw aching. ‘Excuse me.’
‘Of course,’ Bella murmured.
‘We have to stay at this thing for at least twenty minutes, right? Then we’re hitting your club.’ Erik’s voice carried as Antonio strode away. ‘I hear it’s full of beautiful young things.’
‘Absolutely. Wait ’til you see my star barman.’ Bella’s laughter bubbled as she went back to her performance.
During the reception in the backstage lounge Antonio watched her execute those choreographed moves in real life again. But his bitterness receded when he saw that blankness in her eyes. It told him everything. This was an astute businesswoman doing what she deemed necessary to make her work a success. Beneath that determination, she had needs and desires that weren’t being met.
So, thanks to her, did he.
An affair was impossible. But he wanted just one taste of the forbidden.
No one could know. And for that to happen, it could only happen the once.
Clandestine. Discreet. Finite.
There’d be no power games, threats or sleazy rewards. They would just be two people working out an intense attraction on their own terms and in private.
Five minutes later he watched her leave with her entourage of dancers. She was deliberately breaking royal protocol and leaving the reception before he, the Crown Prince, did. Showing him she didn’t give a damn.
Which might be true.
But she still wanted him.
CHAPTER FOUR
BELLA RECOGNISED THE man immediately. Prince Antonio’s aide might be immaculately and discreetly attired, but he still didn’t fit in. His expression was as austere as his employer’s and he clearly wasn’t at her club to dance.
She wasn’t dancing either. She was playing the ‘exclusive VIP room’ card, trying to let Erik distract her, but not even his endless talk could keep her thoughts from one tall, dark and handsome prince for long. And now here was Antonio’s errand boy at almost three in the morning looking as if he was on a mission. Her pulse sprinted, swiftly overtaking the fast-thudding beat of the club anthem blaring from the state-of-the-art speakers.
The Mistress That Tamed De Santis Page 5
