Royally Roma

by Teri Wilson

  He’d lasted this long without botching things and revealing his identity. Surely he could hold out a bit longer.

  “But, sir . . .” Piero pleaded, his gaze shifting once again toward the table near the corner of Café Rocha’s patio. He gave his collar a gentle tug as if he couldn’t breathe.

  The tug was all it took for Niccolo to finally figure out what was going on.

  How could he be so foolish? Piero hadn’t been watching Julia during their conversation. He’d been keeping an eye on the two men who were seated at the table behind her. They were dressed nearly identically in nondescript suits and dark sunglasses. To anyone else, everything about the two men probably seemed perfectly ordinary.

  But Niccolo knew better.

  Beneath the café table, his hands clenched into fists. “Were you planning on telling me about the security officers sitting over there? Or were you biding your time until they made their move and physically dragged me back to Lazaretto?”

  One of Piero’s eyes twitched. “You’re the future king. They would never do such a thing, Your Highness.”

  Niccolo wasn’t so sure. “Then what are they doing here? And where on earth did they come from, because those men aren’t part of the security detail that accompanied me to Rome.”

  “Your grandfather sent them.”

  The king. Of course.

  Piero leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I followed your instructions and assured him you were in no danger whatsoever, but when you refused to return to your duties last night, he insisted. A plane arrived from Lazaretto early this morning.”

  “A plane?” Niccolo’s head began to throb. He’d made an even greater mess than he’d anticipated. How had he failed to see this coming?

  “Yes, sir.” Piero’s voice dropped to a near whisper this time. “Transporting twenty security officers from the king’s personal staff.”

  “Twenty?” His comment about being physically dragged back to Lazaretto had been facetious. Mostly. But perhaps that was the actual plan.

  The entire time he’d been strolling through the market with Julia, had they been followed by palace security? Had those men in the dark glasses watched while Niccolo bit into the plump tomato and let the juice run down his chin? While Julia tipped her head back and laughed?

  Had he really been so foolish as to believe he’d been experiencing a moment of privacy?

  Maybe he deserved this. Maybe he deserved to be watched every waking moment of his life simply by virtue of the name on his birth certificate. Maybe it was the trade-off for being royal. Maybe he had no right to expect a day, a weekend to himself. Ever.

  Perhaps he deserved to be spied on until the day he died with a crown on his head, but Julia sure as hell didn’t.

  Rage like none he’d ever experienced before blossomed inside his chest. Piero had lured him here. He was being hunted like an animal. “Where are the others?”

  Piero’s gaze dropped to the table. He could no longer seem to look Niccolo in the eye. “There are two here at the café, four at the Spanish Steps, and two more at the intersection of Via del Babuino and the Piazza del Popolo. Three are waiting back at the hotel, and the rest are spread throughout Rome.”

  Niccolo couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Such measures were excessive, even for his grandfather.

  Things had gone too far. He should put a stop to this whole mess before someone got hurt.

  Someone already has.

  “I don’t give a damn about the security team. I still need the money. I’m not going back until I have it.” He’d made her a promise. He’d given her his word, and he intended to keep it.

  Perspiration was practically dripping from Piero’s brow. “I don’t see how that’s possible, sir. Not at this point.”

  “I’ll make it possible. You don’t need to concern yourself with how. Or why. Your only concern is getting me the money. I’m not asking you to do it. I’m telling.”

  His secretary dabbed at his face with a napkin. “I could write a check on the royal account right now.”

  Then he’d have to explain to Julia why he was handing her a check with the king’s seal on it. “No. Absolutely not. I said cash, and I meant it.”

  “The earliest I can procure such a large amount is first thing tomorrow morning when the banks reopen.”

  Tomorrow morning.

  He couldn’t keep up his charade for another twenty-four hours. His travel diary was in complete and total disarray. Half of Rome, not to mention his grandfather, was furious at him. It was a miracle no one had recognized him yet, although the trip to the barbershop had helped tremendously.

  To top things off, twenty trained bodyguards had been tasked with tracking him down and forcing him back in line. And two of those men were sitting less than twenty feet away.

  It was time to give up . . .

  If only giving up didn’t mean disappointing the first person he’d felt a genuine connection with in a long time. Too long.

  Which was the only explanation for why he was about to do something as insane as Cassian’s little skinny dipping incident.

  He stood and buttoned his suit jacket as if he were about to stroll into an ordinary business meeting rather than attempt to outrun nearly two dozen members of his country’s own security team. “Then I suppose we’ll see one another tomorrow morning.”

  “Wait. You’re leaving again?” Piero rose from his chair. “Your Highness, I strongly advise you to reconsider.”

  “We’re finished here. I’ll be in touch later. Just do your job this time.” Niccolo glared at him. “Or I’ll replace you the moment we get back to Lazaretto. You work for me, not my grandfather. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Piero said.

  That’s more like it.

  “And, sir, I’m sorry.” His gaze flitted to the security team. “They made me do it this way. You can have this, if it helps.” He pulled a bill from his wallet and slid it across the table.

  Twenty euros. Not even close to what Niccolo needed.

  “Thank you.” He slipped the twenty euro note into his pocket. “I’ll text you an address later. Get the cash as soon as the banks open in the morning, and we’ll proceed from there.”

  What was he doing? How was he going to tell Julia he still didn’t have her money? Better yet, how was he going to walk away without being detained by the palace bodyguards?

  Any sane person would give up and end this fool’s holiday right here and now. Then again, he’d turned his back on sanity about twenty-four hours ago, hadn’t he?

  “I’ll be in touch.” Niccolo gave Piero a final nod, then turned and walked right past the two security officers, toward the table where Julia sat waiting for him.

  “Well?” she said, casually sipping her glass of champagne. With her delicate features and bow-shaped lips, she looked like a Botticelli painting come to life.

  A phrase began to repeat itself over and over in Niccolo’s head.

  All roads lead to Rome.

  All roads lead to Rome.

  All roads lead to Rome.

  He was losing his mind. Is this what Nero had felt when he was on the verge of becoming completely unhinged?

  You will regret this. You know you will.

  He didn’t bother sitting down. “There’s been a change in plans.”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  FOURTEEN

  A change of plans. Why wasn’t she surprised?

  Julia knew it. On some level, she’d known it all along. She just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

  Nico didn’t have her money.

  After all the promises, after all the flirty little exchanges, after all the kissing, he still wasn’t going to pay her, was he?

  She’d never so willfully misjudged someone in her entire life. This was every bit as bad as her h
umiliating history with Elio. Worse, actually. Because she should have known better. She wasn’t that naïve American girl who’d just stepped off the plane at the Fiumicino Airport. She didn’t want to run away from anything anymore. For once in her life she wanted to run toward something. A real future—one that she made for herself. She knew now that her father was no anomaly. Men lied. All the time.

  So this time she had no one to blame but herself.

  She’d really wanted to believe him, though. So much so that she’d been ready to sleep with him.

  When he’d turned her down, she’d even thought it meant he was honorable somehow. Trustworthy. But now she supposed it simply meant that he didn’t want her the same way she wanted him.

  She swallowed.

  Shall I tell you about the things I imagine, Julia?

  He’d said those words to her. He’d said those things and more. He wanted her. She’d been wrong about so many things, but not all of them. Not about that.

  “A change of plans?” She glared at him. Why, oh why hadn’t she listened to all those alarm bells that had been going off in her head when he’d acted so strangely back at the Hotel de Russie?

  “Yes. Come with me, and I’ll explain everything.” He stood beside her chair, no doubt waiting for her to obey him. God, he could be infuriating.

  She stayed put and lifted a skeptical brow. “Everything?”

  “Well, almost everything.” A muscle flexed in his jaw, and much to her dismay, Julia found it unreasonably attractive.

  She needed therapy of some kind. Obviously. Too bad she couldn’t afford five minutes on a psychotherapist’s couch, much less the many, many hours it would no doubt take to cure her of her bad taste in men.

  This whole situation had really gone on long enough. She obviously wasn’t going to get her money. It was time to stop jumping through all these silly hoops.

  “Nico, I . . .” Her voice drifted off as he pulled a twenty euro note from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and tossed it onto the table. She stared at it in disbelief.

  “We should go.” He cleared his throat and glanced briefly at the men at the closest table, who were motioning at the waiter for their check. “Now.”

  As relieved as she felt at the sight of actual money coming out of his pocket, she still wasn’t sure she should up and follow him. Couldn’t he fork over her money right here, right now? She worked very hard at keeping her expression even. “I’m not finished with my champagne.”

  He stared at her for a beat, then picked up her glass and tossed the rest of her drink down his throat.

  Rude much?

  He set the glass gingerly back on the tabletop and offered her his hand.

  Do not take it. Do. Not.

  She did, of course.

  He clasped his hand around hers, lifted her out of her chair, and practically sprinted out of the café. She struggled to catch up, all the while wondering why it suddenly felt as though he’d kidnapped her rather than the other way around.

  “Nico, what’s going on?” she asked, as he pulled her behind the white awning of the tomato stand.

  What on earth was happening?

  He slipped in front of her in the narrow space between the crisp white canvas and the outside wall of the church that stood at the corner of the market. It was a tight squeeze. Her back was pressed against the cool stone wall, and she was vaguely aware of the sounds and smells of the surrounding stalls. Shoppers haggling with the farmers. The tinkling of coins. The earthy fragrance of fresh-cut basil and anise. Garlic and crushed fennel.

  Nico’s body was pressed fully against hers, his face just inches away.

  “I demand you to tell me what you’re doing,” she said. But it didn’t sound like a demand. She’d never sounded less authoritative in her life. And she couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his gaze.

  They were surrounded on every side by Romans, but no one could see them. Being tucked away behind the tomato stand felt oddly intimate. Like a grown-up round of hide-and-seek.

  She lifted her chin and forced herself to look him in the eye. “No more games, Nico. Tell me what’s happening.”

  “Shhh.” He pressed a fingertip to her lips. “I’m hiring you for another full day. Now if you could keep quiet for just ten seconds, we can discuss the terms.”

  “You’re hiring me?” While hiding in a farmer’s market? Of course.

  “Ten.” His voice rumbled through her, low and dangerous.

  She should scream. Who knew what he planned on doing to her, hidden from view like this? Of course, if he’d wanted to harm her, he’d had plenty of opportunity over the course of the past twenty-four hours.

  “Nine,” he whispered.

  Had it really only been twenty-four hours since she’d spotted him alone on the Hotel de Russie’s patio? It felt like a lifetime ago.

  “Eight.”

  He’d seemed so normal. Handsome, obviously. Alarmingly so. But definitely not like a bonkers sociopath, which he sort of seemed like at the moment.

  “Seven.”

  Did she really want to go through this for another full day? Besides, he still hadn’t even paid her for the day before.

  “Six.”

  “Nico,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. A warning. “Five.”

  “I don’t think this is . . .” Before she could finish, his mouth came down on hers. Hot and hard.

  Julia didn’t have time to think, and maybe that was a good thing. Or possibly bad—the worst, actually—because all she could do was react. Before she knew what was happening, her arms were draped languidly around his neck, Nico’s leg had slipped between her thighs and the hem of her dress had somehow hiked itself dangerously high.

  She was kissing him back like every cell in her body was weeping in relief at the touch of his lips. Which it sort of was.

  But that was beside the point. She shouldn’t be doing this. Couldn’t, according to Nico himself.

  She pulled away and promptly banged the back of her head against the church’s stone wall. “Ouch.”

  Nico’s brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” Honestly, the goose egg on the back of her head was the least of her concerns. “I am most definitely not all right. Why are you kissing me? I thought we decided this was a bad idea.” Technically, he’d been the one who’d made the decision. But Julia wasn’t about to draw attention to that embarrassing fact.

  “Is that what I said, exactly? Because I remember it a bit differently.” He shrugged. “In any case, it seemed the best way to keep you quiet.”

  If she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss so much, she would have slapped him. “If you’re serious about hiring me again, this has to stop. No more kissing. I mean it this time.” Liar. She meant nothing of the sort. But she wanted to mean it. Did that count?

  He nodded with exaggerated seriousness. “Very well.”

  “Plus, I’m going to need payment. Not just for yesterday, but for today, too. In advance.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  Of course it wasn’t.

  She was going to kill him. She’d already plunged headfirst into the world of crime when she’d kidnapped him. Why stop there? Especially when he was so impossible. “You don’t have my money, do you?”

  “Not yet.” He at least had the decency to look contrite this time. She almost wished he didn’t, though, because the tender expression in his gaze took the edge off her fury. “The banks are closed today, hence the change of plans.”

  That’s right. Today was a bank holiday. She’d forgotten all about it, given the absurd turn her life had taken since yesterday.

  Still, she’d be crazy to sign on for another day of showing him around when he still hadn’t paid her a dime.

  “I’ll pay you triple for today,” he said.

/>   “It’s a deal,” she blurted. She couldn’t turn down that kind of money. Not now.

  Of course, she was assuming he’d eventually pay her. Because triple the amount he’d given her already was still zero.

  Ugh, she’d just fallen for a con again, hadn’t she? Hook, line and sinker.

  “Good. I’ll have your money for you when the banks open first thing in the morning.”

  Wait.

  What?

  “Do you actually think you’re spending the night at my flat again?” No. That was definitely not happening. She’d practically begged him to sleep with her last night. What mortifying thing would she do if he stayed there tonight?

  She didn’t even want to think about it.

  “It’s part of the deal.” He shrugged, as if anything about this negotiation was remotely normal. “Take it or leave it.”

  She should leave it. Absolutely she should.

  Instead, she heard herself saying, “Valentina would love it.”

  Right. Because this was all about her dog.

  “Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint Valentina now, would we?” He smiled. Too big. Too knowing.

  Her face went hot and she dropped her gaze. But there was nowhere safe to look. She and Nico were still tucked behind the fruit stand for some unknown reason. His hands were pressed against the wall on either side of her head, hemming her in.

  He was everywhere.

  She reminded herself that seven hundred fifty euros was a lot of money. A whole lot. She wouldn’t even have to split it with the touring company like she normally did. She could keep all of it. Every single penny.

  Still, it was a terrible idea. The worst. She couldn’t agree to it. Wouldn’t. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Excellent.” He smiled.

  Despite the fact that she’d somehow made a deal with the devil, Julia’s heart did a little tumble at the sight of that grin. Goodness, he was handsome when he smiled and the dimple in his left cheek flashed.

  It vanished as quickly as it appeared, and his gaze turned serious. “One more condition.”

  When had she failed to be the one in charge? She shook her head. “No conditions.”