Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance)

by Natasha Moore

  He reached out to take her hand but caught himself and shoved his hands into his pockets instead. He strode from the room. “Come.” He led her to a closet in the corner of the dressing room where her clothes had been hung before she’d been brought up here to wait for him.

  Rico would not appreciate his security team referred to as goons. Vittorio couldn’t wait to see his reaction. Or perhaps she’d already called him that to his face. Vittorio would be sorry to have missed it. “You are welcome to use the shower if you desire. Please dress in whatever will make you comfortable.”

  “Really?” She narrowed her eyes and studied him. He could almost see the thoughts whirling through that quick mind of hers. “So I can wear anything I want to?”

  “Of course. As long as it’s not that hideous outfit you are wearing now.” He glanced at his watch. “The food will be here soon. Perhaps we should share the shower to save time.”

  “No!”

  Mia pushed him out of the room with a press of her delicate hand on his bare chest. Vittorio waited until she slammed the door in his face to laugh out loud.

  The laughter died quickly as he realized what he’d been doing. He should have known better than to banter with this intriguing woman. This desirable, deceitful woman. The last thing he should have done was bring her here, keep her here. He enjoyed her too much. Even his memories of her lies couldn’t dim his desire for her.

  Vittorio left the bedroom and headed straight for the bar. The shot of vodka hit him low in his belly, smooth and warm, just like Mia had. He’d already kissed her again. Had pressed long and hard against her. How long would it be before they ended up in bed together once more? No matter how much she refused him now, she would not be able to resist any more than he could. The electricity in the air between them could not be denied.

  He had no doubt they would be in bed together before the night was through. The thought brought him as much trepidation as it did satisfaction. He’d commanded her to be his mistress as a punishment for her lies. Instead, it would be his punishment. Because already he was afraid the longer they remained together, the more he would come to care for her. The more he would come to desire her.

  And the harder it would be to send her away in the end.

  “Vittorio!”

  At her frustrated cry he hurried back into the bedroom. Mia stood in the center of the room. Her face was scrubbed clean of make-up and he thought she looked even younger, even more beautiful. She’d donned a simple dress of deep blue that clung to her slender frame and ended just above her knees. She was barefoot and her wet hair hung like a curtain down her back.

  “Your goons forgot to pack me any shoes. The boots I wore with the slacks won’t look appropriate with a dress.”

  He couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. He’d never been so glad she didn’t look entirely appropriate. “I will see that it is taken care of tomorrow.” For some reason, the sight of her with her toes bare stirred an unfamiliar emotion deep in his chest. He’d tell himself it was merely lust, but he hated lies, even his own. “Are you warm enough?”

  “I’m fine. It’s much warmer here than at home.” She bit her lip, as if she was unsure of what she was going to say. A look that might have been resignation crossed her face. “If I am to be forced to remain in Mezzano, perhaps Angelina and I could go shopping tomorrow.”

  That would be a security nightmare. “I prefer you to stay on the grounds.”

  “Of course, you do.” She shook her head slowly. “The prison may be pretty, Your Highness, but I have no freedom just the same.”

  He thought of his responsibilities. Of duties and decrees. “We are all trapped in our own kinds of prisons. None of us is truly free.”

  Mia let out a long, thoughtful sigh. “Yes. Well. I still have no shoes.”

  Vittorio let his gaze run along her body until it landed on those pretty pink toes. “Perhaps I like the way you look barefoot.”

  She curled those toes into the soft rug. “The harder for me to run away, Your Highness?”

  He shrugged. “You have sexy feet.”

  “Right. I think I’ll put my old boots back on. They will serve me just fine.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He caught her arm before she could turn away and put those pretty feet in those ugly boots. “I will have a member of my staff take care of your clothing problem in the morning. Unfortunately, Angelina is not in residence at this time.”

  Mia studied him. “Did you send her away when you decided to bring me here?”

  “Of course not.” It wasn’t really a lie. They all had an open invitation to visit their aunt and uncle any time they wanted. “She went to the beach house with some of the family for a holiday.”

  Another, more troubled expression clouded her eyes. Why were women so inscrutable?

  “What have you told your family about me?”

  “Stefano is not here either. He followed in my father’s footsteps and went into the military. He reunited with his unit right after the ball.” Vittorio released her arm when he realized he’d been stroking her soft skin with his thumb. “I told my father the truth, that you lied about being the princess and that I brought you here as my mistress until such time as I am ready to let you go.”

  Her eyes flashed, her chin lifted. “Do you bring all your mistresses here to the palace?” she asked.

  Vittorio was pleased to hear the sass back in her voice. She sauntered past him into the sitting room. He followed her like a little puppy.

  “I thought all you rich and powerful guys put your mistresses up in fancy apartments, far away from people who would ask uncomfortable questions.”

  “I have a house in town,” he said. He’d taken lovers there, of course, but he’d never considered any of them his mistress. None of them had spent more than an occasional overnight there. “But I am needed here now.”

  Mia’s sassy expression dropped and one of concern took its place. “Your father is not doing well?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve discovered his health is much worse than he and his doctors led me to believe.” More lies.

  “That is probably the cause of the dark circles under your eyes.” She reached up and cupped his face. “I’m so sorry, Vittorio.”

  He stepped away before he dragged her into his arms. “I’m taking a shower. If the food comes before I am out, don’t wait for me.”

  “How old were you when you first took your cousin’s place?”

  Mia studied Vittorio over the rim of her wine glass. They had just finished a delicious meal. They hadn’t spoken much while they ate, at least not in words. But their glances had gotten longer, hotter. By the time an unobtrusive servant had whisked away the dirty dishes, Mia’s body was buzzing with need for this man she had no business desiring.

  They’d moved from the small dining table to an elegant sofa covered in gold brocade.

  “Birgitte and I were born just weeks apart,” she told him. “We thought it was fun to pretend to be each other when we were quite small. Our families could tell us apart easily, of course, so they were never fooled, but often they would play along.” She set her glass down on a small side table. “It was a game, you understand.”

  “Yes. But that is not the same thing as becoming her stand-in.”

  “No.” He didn’t seem to be quite as angry as he had been earlier. Maybe he would understand. “When we were teenagers, the paparazzi began to follow Birgitte around on her shopping trips. At first she thought it was fun, but after a while she tired of it. She’d talk me into being a decoy sometimes. I’d ride with her in the car into the city, then duck out and look like I was trying to hide from the photographers. Birgitte would go wherever she wanted to go then and I’d lead the photo hounds on a merry chase. It was fun for a while.” She shrugged. “I got to go places and do things I wouldn’t normally get to do.”

  Vittorio’s face was carefully blank. “So this was always your cousin’s idea?”

  “Of course. I would nev
er suggest it!” If Mia ever told Birgitte she wanted to play the part of a princess, her cousin would have laughed at her. “Regardless of what you might think, I never took her place because of what I thought I would get out of it. I never…I never did more than go shopping or … I never met a man before…never pretended…” Mia blinked back tears she didn’t expect. Cleared her throat. “And anyway, she enjoys her jet setting life and I like my simple one. I hardly see her anymore.”

  “Until last weekend.”

  “I never saw her last weekend. She called me, then dropped off the clothes and jewelry, and the invitation of course, at my house while I was at work.” Mia sighed. She was getting tired of explaining. “Her parents wanted her to go. They’d accepted the invitation for her even though she’d already made other plans. So she called me.”

  “And the ever-loyal cousin agreed.” There was that lifted brow again.

  “Yes. I did.” The familiar bitterness burned in her chest. “The princess speaks and I jump. It has always been that way.”

  “Always?”

  Mia shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “She’s a princess. I’m nobody.”

  Vittorio swept his thumb lightly over her bottom lip. Had she been pouting like a child?

  “Don’t ever say that,” he said softly, intensely. “You are as worthy to live your own life as she is.”

  Mia lifted her brow. She could do that too, even if she didn’t have a royal bone in her body. “Says a prince who has been entitled his whole life. Who insists a kidnap victim dress appropriately for dinner with him.”

  His hand was still on her face. He cupped her jaw, his thumb brushed sensuously along her throat. “I wish you would stop saying that. I did not kidnap you.”

  “Then I am free to go?” She knew she should pull away from him, take advantage of his sudden softness, but instead she leaned into his gentle strokes. He was so close now she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

  His lips brushed against hers as he asked, “Do you want to go?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? Since she didn’t know the answer, she closed the fraction of an inch between them and pressed her lips to his. She savored his taste for only an instant before she realized what she was doing.

  Mia jumped back, slid across the sofa cushions until she was out of reach. Vittorio lounged back as if he was not at all surprised by her flight.

  “Feeling guilty, Mia?” There was that snide tone of voice again. She preferred the hot-blooded temper to this icy frost. Of course he hadn’t been actually softening up to her. He’d been trying to seduce her. He was still trying to persuade her to agree to be his mistress.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” she said yet again. How many apologies would he require from her? “But once I was here it was a little difficult to admit otherwise. Once we met and danced and …” She hardened her heart against the memories. “I’m sorry our little ruse messed up your plans. Of course, Birgitte and I had no idea what you had in mind.”

  “And that makes it all right?” He still lounged in apparent laziness, while she felt the urge to jump up and pace the floor. Instead she lifted her glass and took a leisurely sip before she replied.

  “No, of course it doesn’t. I’m just saying that we didn’t intend to hurt anyone. Birgitte couldn’t be two places at the same time, so I agreed to help her. That’s all.”

  He leaned forward then, rested his arms on his knees and brought his face close to hers.

  Anger smoldered in his eyes. “I repeat. Does that excuse the lies you told?” He drew one finger along her bare knee. ”Does that excuse you coming to my bed, pretending to be someone else?”

  She shifted her leg away from his touch. Her heart raced. Her body tingled. She could force no words past her lips.

  His gaze swept over her body. He reached out and slid his finger over her leg again, traveling up her thigh to trace the edge of her hem. “You know how you can make it up to me.”

  She shivered. Swallowed. “You want me as your mistress. You want to shame me into being nothing but a woman who must be ready and willing to have sex with you whenever you snap your fingers.”

  “I must try snapping my fingers some time to see if it actually works,” he said wryly.

  “Do you really want me to agree to have sex with you out of some sense of guilt?”

  He slipped the tip of his finger beneath the hem. “We’ve already had sex. Were you feeling guilty when you agreed to come to my bed that night?”

  “No. That’s not why I agreed.” She started to rise, but he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and held her there.

  “Why did you agree, Mia?”

  She tried to yank her arm out of his hold but he wouldn’t let her go. “Because I was stupid? Because I was attracted to you? Because I wanted to know what one night with you would be like?” She picked up her glass of wine with her free hand and finished in it one long gulp. “All of the above, I imagine. If you want to know the truth, I felt like Cinderella at the ball and I wanted the night to last a little longer even though I knew the clock would strike midnight eventually.”

  “So now I am Prince Charming?”

  Mia laughed, a sharp, broken sound. “That night, yes. Now?” She shook her head. “I think perhaps you were playing a part as well.”

  He released his hold on her wrist and she was dismayed to realize then how much she missed his touch. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “You were trying to seduce a woman you wanted to agree to become your wife. A stranger you somehow decided would fit the bill.” It all made sense now. He’d never cared about her, even when he thought she was Birgitte. “I imagine you would have done anything, said anything, to make her agree. You pretended to be a charming prince when we both know, from your actions since then, that you are not that prince at all.”

  “I was angry. I am angry,” he growled. “At being lied to. By you. The woman who cannot be my wife. The woman who pretended that she could be.”

  He rose from the sofa in one smooth, decisive move. “Enough. It is late.” He reached out his hand to her and Mia found herself taking it without hesitation. He drew her up and into his arms and her traitorous body softened and melted against him. “I need your answer now. I want to take you to my bed again.”

  Arousal shimmered over her skin and there was no doubt what her answer would be.

  “And if I agree, is that where I must stay until Birgitte comes?”

  He shook his head, chuckled softly as he brushed her hair back from her face. “I will not handcuff you to the bed.” He smirked. “Not unless you wish it.”

  Heat flared within her. “Do you still hate me?” she asked as their bodies pressed shamelessly against one another.

  His dark eyes bore into hers. “Of course.”

  “It would only make it worse if we did feel something for each other, wouldn’t it?” Mia asked softly.

  “Yes,” he replied. “We have no future together. You know this.”

  She nodded, foolish sorrow a crushing pressure on her chest. “It’s better if we continue to hate each other. It will make it easier when I have to walk away again.”

  Vittorio drove his fingers into her hair, holding her head in his hands. “Was it not easy for you to leave before?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”

  The kiss was hard, punishing, before he swept her up in his arms. “Then you agree? You will remain here as my mistress until the princess appears?”

  She would surely hear from her cousin in the morning. Mia knew she would soon regret it, but she could not refuse the chance to spend even one more night with Vittorio. She would simply have to remember to continue to hate him. To remember that he brought her here to punish her for lying to him. She would need to take what she wanted from him—hot sex and a holiday—and be ready to leave when the time came.

  “Yes. I agree.”

  Vittori
o cradled Mia in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and he gently kissed the top of her head. He still hated her for what she had done. For lying to him. For pretending to be the woman he wanted to marry.

  But as he carried her into the bedroom, he was afraid he was beginning to like the woman he was coming to know. She was smart and quick. Warm and loyal to her family, even to a cousin who had used her often for her own purposes.

  They would be using each other now, aware that there was no future in this coupling. They would have to take pleasure together while they could. And there would be pleasure. They both knew that.

  Vittorio set Mia on the floor beside the bed, letting their bodies slide against each other as he lowered her. He was already hard for her. He almost lost it when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

  “I’m new at this mistress thing,” she said, her chin lifted, her voice sharp. “Do I wait for your commands, oh mighty prince? Can I take some initiative and, for example, unbutton this shirt and slip it from your shoulders? Or do you like to take the first step?”

  He would die if he could not have her hands on him again. Soon. “I have noticed you have quite a mouth on you when you are uneasy.”

  “I have a right to be nervous. You’ve probably had dozens of mistresses, but this is a first for me.”

  “You over-estimate my mistress history,” he replied. “Let us not worry about the past. And not think about the future.” He took her hands, kissed the tips of her fingers and then placed them on the front of his shirt, over the buttons of which she’d been speaking. “Let us simply enjoy the moment we are in right now.”

  Her fingers were warm where they brushed his skin as she slipped the buttons from their holes. He pushed back the surprising sense of urgency that rose within him. He didn’t want to rush this night of sex with Mia. For all he knew, Princess Birgitte was on a plane right now, headed for Mezzano. Vittorio realized he wasn’t all that anxious for her to arrive. He wanted more time with Mia.

  She finished unbuttoning his shirt and his body hardened even more when she slipped her slender hands beneath the fabric, ran them up his chest and over his shoulders to push the shirt off of him. He was hard as iron behind his zipper.