Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance)

by Natasha Moore

  “I imagine a mistress is supposed to compliment you often,” Mia said. She ran her hands over his chest again. “Oh, Your Highness, you are so hard. So hot.” She reached for his belt. “Let me take these trousers off of you and see how hard and hot you are down here.”

  “Mia…” He didn’t want her like this. He didn’t want a reminder that she wasn’t here of her own free will. Not completely. Not like the last time.

  She unbuckled his belt, unfastened his trousers and slowly lowered the zipper. He hissed when she reached into his underwear and released him. His trousers puddled around his ankles.

  “I’d forgotten how big you are, Your Highness.” Her voice was still sassy, but he told himself there was a breathiness that hadn’t been there a moment before.

  “Mia…” he growled. He didn’t like her acting this way. If they hadn’t had that night together before, he might not know the difference, but he could tell she was once again playing a part. Speaking the words she thought he wanted to hear.

  She dropped to her knees before him, took him in her hands. “This is what mistresses do, isn’t it?” She licked her lips blatantly. “Mmm. I can’t wait to taste you, Your Highness.”

  “Mia, you don’t have to do this.”

  She looked up at him with her big blue eyes. Her hair had dried into a shimmering veil of soft silk. “You don’t want me to take you into my mouth? You don’t want me to service you as a good mistress should?”

  “Yes. No.” He groaned when she stroked him, her hands quick and hot. “I don’t want you to pretend.”

  She tilted her head and frowned. “I don’t understand. Pretend what?”

  “Pretend to be a mistress.”

  “But that’s what I am, Your Highness. I’m not playing a part now. Remember?” She licked his length and he groaned. “You wanted me to be your mistress and I agreed.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her it was the attitude he was complaining about. Addressing him as “Your Highness” instead of using his name. Reducing every action to what she thought a mistress should do. Reminding him over and over that he brought her here for this, and this alone. Vittorio knew his thoughts didn’t make any sense because that was why he’d brought her to Mezzano. He’d wanted her to regret her actions, not to make him regret his.

  But then Mia took him into her mouth and he lost the ability to think. To speak.

  He reached out and grasped her head before his knees buckled and he found himself on the floor with her. She took him deep and he groaned as myriad sensations bombarded him while her hot mouth and clever tongue moved over him. He tried to resist the urge to thrust faster, harder, between her lips. He was breathing heavily when she released him and sat back on her heels.

  “Oh, Your Highness, you taste so good. I never thought I would ever—”

  Vittorio growled, grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. “Stop it!” He kissed her hard and quick. Two could play this game. “Strip and get up on the bed.”

  The tiny gasp she made went straight to his groin. “Yes, Your Highness.” She pulled the dress over her head and he realized she wore nothing at all underneath. She met his gaze with a lift of her chin before she turned and crossed the room, carefully draping the dress over the same chair where she’d placed the ball gown she wore a week ago. He was certain she did that as a reminder.

  He didn’t need any reminders.

  “Quick. On the bed. I’ve waited long enough.”

  She didn’t hurry, though, the vixen, as she approached, naked, her hips swaying, a small smile on her lips. She climbed onto the mattress and remained on her hands and knees. Her shapely behind faced him. Mia looked over her shoulder at him with a smirk.

  “Like this, Your Highness?”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he ground out. His hands itched with the urge to smack that sassy bottom. She deserved it, didn’t she? For lying to him? For mocking him? For tempting him with what he couldn’t keep and reminding him that he’d asked for the temptation?

  He stepped out of his trousers and briefs and sat down on the edge of the mattress. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her face down over his lap.

  “Vittorio!” she cried out and wriggled against his throbbing erection.

  “So now you will use my name?” He swept her hair out of the way so he could see her face and held her down with one hand on her warm, smooth back. He stroked the soft, firm globes of her bare bottom with the other hand. She moaned in obvious pleasure. When she began to settle down, he smacked her with the palm of his hand. The sharp blow probably made his hand sting as much as her bottom did. Mia gasped and then began struggling again, her soft stomach rubbing against his erection.

  He spanked her again. And once more. Her soft cries seemed to be a blend of outrage and arousal. Her face was buried in the covers, her hands pulling the soft comforter into her fists. But she’d stopped struggling.

  Then after one more quick slap, his fingers found their way between her legs, discovering the soft, wet secrets nestled there. She moved against his hand, rubbing and inviting him to delve deeper. He slipped two fingers into her hot core and savored the clench of flesh around them.

  He throbbed with his need for her. He flipped her over and slid her body up the mattress until her head reached the pillows. Her eyes widened but she didn’t say a word. He knelt between her wide spread legs and put his mouth on her, tasting her as she’d been tasting him a short time before. Her hands found his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. The tang of her desire was sweet on his tongue.

  Her body moved under him, asking for more from him. Her fingers tightened on his hair, demanding it faster, harder. Strangled gasps escaped her parted lips. He snuck a quick glance and saw that her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her back arched, her knees dropped to the mattress, giving him full access to all of her.

  He could live off her nectar. He could stay between her legs forever. But on the heels of that realization came the knowledge that he would not have her forever. That he couldn’t live with her for long. They might only have a few hours together. A few days if he was lucky.

  Lucky? The longer they were together, the harder it would be for him to remember that he was punishing her for her deception. That he hated liars. That he didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want to need her.

  Vittorio surged up and grabbed a condom from the drawer beside the bed. As soon as he was sheathed, he plunged into Mia’s heat. Let her surround him. Let her sweet body slake this need for her, the unfamiliar yearning he’d never experienced so strongly before.

  Mia grasped his forearms and moved with him. Her hips lifted to meet his thrusts. Her eyes were still closed, lips still parted as her breaths came more rapidly.

  “Harder,” she panted. “Faster.”

  She lifted her hips even more and he took the hint and gripped her hips and lifted. The change in angle must have been what she was reaching for because she cried out as her orgasm hit her. Her body bucked beneath him and she clenched around him, sending him over the edge with her.

  He cried out her name as he came. He opened his eyes and watched her as their bodies moved together, as their climaxes directed the dance. “Mia,” he said, softer this time. Her lids fluttered open and her gaze locked with his. He dropped a soft kiss to her lips, surprised at the sudden tenderness that welled up inside him.

  He didn’t want to feel anything close to tenderness for this woman. He was supposed to hate her. For what she’d said. What she’d done. Instead, he gathered her close and fell asleep in her arms.

  Chapter Seven

  What had she done?

  Mia woke up alone in Prince Vittorio’s bed the next morning. Sunshine poured through the long windows. She was alone among the tangled sheets and the memories of an incredible night of lovemaking.

  No, she couldn’t call it lovemaking. Princes didn’t make love to their mistresses, especially mistresses they hated. It had been sex. Only sex.

  Memories
of their night together brought a sigh to her lips even as her brain started throwing recriminations at her. How could she have agreed to be a prince’s mistress? A mistress! The kind of women the people of her village whispered about with such disdain.

  The citizens of Stagatland loved their royal families, but that didn’t mean they gossiped any less. King Karl had two brothers and while Mia never heard any talk about the king keeping a mistress, there were many rumors about the greedy women the dukes put up in fancy apartments in the city. The townspeople sneered and complained about the way they spent money on these women. Everyone knew that mistresses traded their bodies and their self-respect for fancy clothes and expensive jewelry.

  Mistress was the same as whore to the people of Stagatland.

  But she hadn’t felt like a whore in Vittorio’s arms last night.

  It was easier to think of him as Vittorio rather than the prince. Vittorio was a man who lived and breathed and worried about his father and loved his brother and sister. Not an impersonal figurehead. Not a prince. Not a man who would keep a mistress.

  He was a man who kissed with unbridled passion. A man whose moan rumbled through his chest. Whose laughter lightened her spirits. She wished he laughed more, but she hadn’t really given him much to laugh about, had she?

  She wanted to hate him. To blame him for bringing her here. For keeping her here. But even when she’d been angry with him, she’d never hated him. But that was her problem, wasn’t it?

  It was time to get out of this soft bed, but what did the day hold in store for her? If Birgitte didn’t turn up today, which was highly doubtful, what would Mia do all day? The walls of Vittorio’s suite had started to close in on her yesterday. She wasn’t one to sit around and do nothing all day. She’d go totally crazy. It was time to find something to do. She crawled out from between the incredibly soft sheets.

  She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t handcuffed her to the bed.

  Mia took a long shower and then after a quick glance at the clothes that had come with her, saw that there was no robe. No slippers. No shoes, of course. She was glad she’d washed out her underwear last night because she didn’t have any bras or panties either. Mia pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft, familiar T-shirt. Vittorio had mentioned something about going shopping today. She was glad her purse had made it here. Her credit card would undoubtedly take quite a hit today.

  She found her purse where it had fallen off the edge of the bed. She pulled out her phone and was not surprised to discover that Birgitte had not returned her call yet. Mia left another quick message, trying to be as vague as possible. She wouldn’t put it past her cousin to completely ignore her if she thought she might be pressured into doing something she didn’t want to do, especially agree to a marriage she didn’t want.

  Mia padded into the sitting room to find coffee, juice, and covered dishes on the table. An empty coffee cup sat on one side of the table. Did Vittorio only have some coffee before he took off for his meetings? No wonder he was so tired at the end of the day. She ate a light breakfast and then sipped on coffee as she wandered back over to look out the window.

  She had a large cottage garden behind her house that she enjoyed working in when the weather permitted. How wonderful it would be to be able to garden year round. Perhaps if there was nothing else for her to do here, she could play around in the neglected garden.

  There was a sharp rap at the door and before Mia could call out a welcome, the door flew open and a tall, shapely woman strode in. Her dark hair was smoothed back into a chignon, her make-up flawless on her striking face. Her charcoal gray suit was softened by a peach blouse.

  She was so elegant and put together, Mia couldn’t help but be immediately intimidated by her.

  She almost laughed. The crown prince of Mezzano didn’t intimidate her, but this elegant woman did? Perhaps because she looked more like the type of woman who belonged in a palace.

  So unlike Mia.

  Following behind the woman were two men pushing rolling clothes racks packed with clothing; colorful dresses and trousers, blouses and jackets. Rows of shoes and boots lined up on the bottom.

  “Miss Holmberg, I am Isabel. His Royal Highness said you were unable to bring your wardrobe with you and asked me to find some appropriate clothing for you. I’ve brought a variety of styles and colors for you to choose from.” She looked Mia up and down and kept her face carefully blank. Mia felt like a country mouse in her sensible jeans and T-shirt. “I’m certain we can find exactly the right outfits for you.”

  “Wait. I thought I would be going shopping this morning.” Mia wondered what Isabel had been told about her. Probably not that she was a kidnap victim. Most likely that she was the prince’s new mistress and needed to be taught how to dress the part.

  “That is what we are doing,” Isabel said brightly. “We have simply brought the clothing to you. It is much better than going around from store to store, is it not?”

  “Of course.” Vittorio was not going to let her leave the palace. Mia should have realized that. He was probably afraid she would try to escape, even after she’d agreed to his demands. He probably didn’t think the word of an admitted liar meant much. He’d probably never trust her.

  She took a deep breath. Just one glance at the quality of the fabrics hanging on the carts told her that she never would have set foot in a store that would carry these obviously expensive clothes. “All right. Let’s have a look. I’m sure I can only afford a couple outfits. And shoes. I have no shoes. Or underwear.”

  Isabel’s carefully constructed façade actually faltered for a moment. No shoes or underwear? How was that possible? The curiosity flashed in her eyes for a brief second before it was gone.

  “You misunderstand, Miss Holmberg. The prince is taking care of everything. He would not expect you to pay.”

  His other mistresses had probably taken him for all they could get. “Oh, no. He’s not buying me one piece of clothing. Not one pair of shoes.” She was not going to be like the women the people of Stagatland sneered at. “I can pay my own way.” Mia was not here because of what she could get from the prince. Except sex. She was only here for the sex.

  Mia whipped out her credit card and handed it to Isabel. “Here.”

  Isabel took the card, jotted down the information and gave it back to her. “Of course. I will inform the prince. Now let’s see which of these outfits will make you look incredible for His Highness.”

  Mia wanted to tell this elegant woman that she didn’t need to look incredible for Vittorio. She only needed shoes. And a dress for dinner. Well, maybe a few dresses if she was going to be here more than a day or two. She mentally cursed her cousin for getting her in this situation, then spent the next several hours trying on nearly everything Isabel had brought with her. Mia had to admit that many of these outfit made her feel incredible. Almost made her look as if she belonged here.

  No. She’d never belong here.

  Still, Mia couldn’t help but imagine what Vittorio would think as she tried on each piece of clothing. Couldn’t help but be glad she would look beautiful for him again.

  She finally chose a couple dresses along with shoes to match. And some fancy undergarments. She’d actually been relieved to realize the goons hadn’t rummaged through her underwear drawer. Everything was finer than anything she’d ever had before. She’d be paying off the cost of this shopping spree for some time. But it was better that way. Better to keep her self-respect even at the extra hit to her budget.

  By the time she was finally alone again in the suite, Mia had grown tired and cranky. The walls seemed to close in on her. She threw the doors to the little balcony open wide and stepped out into the fresh air, pushed away the memory of Vittorio’s body pressed up against hers. A glance out at the neglected garden plot made her even more restless. She had to get outside for a little while.

  Dressed again in the worn jeans and T-shirt, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then opened the door to
see Tony standing guard as he had been the day before. “I need to stretch my legs.”

  “Of course. I will be happy to accompany you,” he said. “Would you like a tour of the grounds?”

  She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to wander about on her own. She smiled at Tony. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.” He led her down the hallway, around a couple turns, and down an elevator to a door that opened onto the back lawn of the palace. The warm, moist air pressed down on her. This climate would take some getting used to. If she were staying. As it was, she just had to get through the next day or two. Mia took a deep breath and detected the scent of ocean in the air. “This is so different than what I’m used to.”

  “The weather?” Tony asked as they strolled down the stone walkway, worn smooth by centuries of feet walking this same path. Mia could feel the history and traditions of Mezzano as sharply as she did those of Stagatland, and was pleased to realize not everything was different here.

  “I was surprised how much colder your country was than Mezzano,” Tony went on. “I’m not surprised you feel that it is unfamiliar to you here.”

  “Yes, the weather is part of it, of course. But the palace, the landscaping, the servants, the bodyguard.” She smiled up at Tony to show she felt no ill will toward him. “It is all different from what I am accustomed to.” They approached the fenced-in garden she’d spied from Vittorio’s window, one of the reasons she wanted to walk outside. “Why is this garden so neglected when the rest of the grounds are well maintained?”

  Tony was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how to explain. “This space is called the Queen’s Garden. Her Majesty would often work out here tending it. No one has touched it since she died.”

  “Why not?” Wouldn’t the royal family want the garden to be maintained to honor the late Queen?