Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals)

by Burnham, Nicole

  Once through the door, he turned into an empty parlor and leaned against the wall. Still, the scent lingered.

  He knew what this was. His mind was playing tricks, an aftereffect of the events leading to his injury.

  You’ve recovered.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  You were fine at the parade. You’re fine now. It’s in your head. Breathe.

  Inhale. Exhale. Inhale…and then he couldn’t.

  His throat clogged as if filled with smoke, and again he experienced the horrifying sensation of hot flames crawling down his back, decimating the surface of his skin. Instinct sent him to the far end of the parlor, where a small door led to a back hallway used primarily by the staff. He passed two men carrying cleaning supplies, wished them a polite good night, then cut through another room to access the rear garden. The night air hit him full force as he forced his key card into the appropriate slot, then yanked open the door.

  Better.

  He stood on the threshold, eyes closed, allowing the cool air to purge his lungs. Gradually, he registered the chill and damp before him and the contrasting warm palace air behind him. Soon security would note the door hadn’t shut, as each exterior door was wired to a central command center, and someone would be down to check on it. He withdrew his card from the slot and stepped out, letting the door close behind him. Much as common sense dictated he remain inside, his body seemed intent on maintaining a fight-or-flight response.

  Massimo forced one foot in front of the other, slowly making his way along the garden’s gravel path, then sank to a bench and dropped his head to his hands. Rain soaked through his slacks and the shoulders of his dinner jacket. He threaded his hands through his hair, surprised to find it’d grown long enough to hold water. Despite the deluge, he wasn’t cold. Rather, the rain created a gratifying dissipation of heat from his back, his nostrils, and finally his lungs. Slowly, he took a deep, full breath of the moist air, then another, and exhaled in relief.

  All was well. Equilibrium was restored between his mind and his body. His heart beat at a normal pace and the sense of urgency that pushed him out the palace doors was gone.

  It galled him that his mind-over-matter methods weren’t effective tonight. Then again, he hadn’t expected to discuss warlords and have fire thrown in his face.

  Gradually, he became aware of the rain pinging against the leaves on the boxwood and rosebushes around the bench. Massimo turned his eyes skyward, taking in the softly falling sheets of rain, which glittered in the light streaming from the palace’s large windows. In the distance, he could hear the hum of happy conversation and the strains of the orchestra, though he couldn’t identify the piece.

  Much as he needed to return before he was missed, he couldn’t do so in his current condition. He wracked his brain, trying to remember whether Robert had selected any formalwear similar enough to what he currently wore that he could make it through the rest of the event without raising questions.

  Then another sound came to him from the direction of the ballroom, one closer than the orchestra swell or the crowd noise. A door creaked open, then thumped shut, followed by the snick of a lighter.

  Rather than risk being seen, Massimo decided to head for his apartment, which lay in the opposite direction. Before he could rise from the bench, he heard a scuff behind him.

  Then a hand came down on his bad shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kelly stared at the necklace in her hand, gobsmacked by her discovery. She wasn’t an expert, but the weight of the piece alone was enough to convince her it was likely the real deal. Even with nothing more than the closet’s temporary work light to illuminate it, the diamonds sparkled and the dark hue of the sapphires tempted one to peer into their depths.

  She carefully laid the necklace and bag on top of the dresser, then checked the rest of the hidden compartment before replacing the false back and sliding the drawer into place.

  Gingerly, she carried the necklace and bag to the living room, clicked the lamp to the side of the sofa, then held the jewels under the light for a closer look. What looked extraordinary in the closet took her breath away now that it was fully illuminated. Diamonds ran the entire circumference of the piece, punctuated along the way with small sapphires. Dangling at the throat and surrounded by diamonds, a stunning dark sapphire with a whitish mark in the shape of a star commanded attention.

  Whoever designed this necklace must’ve spent a fortune on it. It could be displayed at the Tower of London with Britain’s crown jewels or in the Museum of Natural History’s gem exhibit in New York and draw long lines to ooh and aah over its splendor. But what was it doing hidden away in a drawer, in a piece of furniture that very nearly ended up relegated to storage? How long had it been there?

  She’d let Massimo know about the necklace first thing in the morning—she doubted he was aware of its existence in the dresser—but wasn’t sure what to do in the meantime. Taking it to her room for the night seemed wrong, as did leaving it for him with a note. And safe as it had been in the dresser, she hesitated to return it to its original hiding place. She didn’t want to have to retrieve it for Massimo tomorrow in the midst of construction.

  She returned the necklace to the velvet bag and carried it toward the desk, taking care to hold it flat to keep the piece from falling out the small hole near the bottom. If she tucked it in the top drawer for safekeeping, it shouldn’t be disturbed and Massimo would be able to retrieve it tomorrow in private. Halfway to the desk, she was surprised by the sound of footpads on the hardwood, then the appearance of a wet nose followed by a big body.

  “Hello, Gaspare.” She set the necklace on the low windowsill before bending to scratch the boy’s ears. “What are you doing up so late? I thought you were sleeping in the kitchen.”

  He’d come to greet her and April when they’d arrived to move the bureau, but after assuring all was well he’d retreated to his favorite spot. Now, as he rubbed against her legs and looked up at her with big blue eyes, so vivid against his dark fur, she realized he likely hadn’t been out in hours. Talking to him as she went, she slid the necklace into the top desk drawer, located her key card and a leash, then took him to the garden exit. The rain fell in sheets now. Much as Gaspare was excited by the puddles, she wasn’t willing to linger to let him play. She remained just inside the door, letting him out to the length of the leash so he could relieve himself, then patted her thigh to urge him back inside. When the dog’s paws hit the exterior step, he paused, then turned and looked over his shoulder. Kelly followed the direction of the dog’s determined gaze.

  “What is it, boy?” she whispered, squinting into the rain. At first, she saw nothing but the glittering lights cast by the chandeliers on the opposite side of the palace, where the banquet was in full swing. Then, on a bench not far away, she saw the outline of a man leaning back, his face turned up to the falling rain.

  Even in the dark, there was no mistaking the strong profile or the positioning of the arms draped across the back of the bench. The same man sat like that only a few days ago, waiting by the marina while she made frantic phone calls to her bank and local hotels. But while he’d been the epitome of casualness then, with his face turned toward the sunshine and his open-top Jeep parked behind him, his pose tonight bothered her. It was as if he held the weight of the world on his shoulders and was attempting to shrug it off, only to find the weight more and more burdensome.

  Perhaps her news would prove a distraction from whatever troubled him.

  She hustled Gaspare inside, pocketed her key card, then dodged across the rain-soaked grass. In the distance, she heard another door open and close. An orange-red light flickered, then disappeared, the sign of a person covering their cigarette in an attempt to protect it from the rain.

  Unwilling to draw the guest’s attention to Massimo by calling out his name, she padded quietly through the grass and touched his shoulder.

  In a flash, he was on his feet and facing her, his massive body half
over the bench, grabbing her throat with one large hand while cocking back the other for a punch.

  “It’s me.” Even as she hissed the words and tried to duck, he froze in mid-attack, the brunt of the force he was about to unleash still coiled. His eyes were hard and flat, his grip on her throat firm. As realization dawned, confusion, then horror flashed across his face. Somewhere in the distance, Kelly thought she heard a door open and close, but her gaze was riveted on the face before her.

  “Dear God.” His fingers released their death grip on the front of her neck and he eased back to his side of the bench. Rain dripped from his eyelashes as he blinked at her, while his chest rose and fell like a man who’d run for miles. “Kelly.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She managed to keep her voice down, despite the horror welling inside her. Another second and he’d have decked her. With his size and power, he’d have caused her serious injury. But as afraid as she should be for herself, she was far more afraid for him. The expression on his face as he’d leapt from the bench was that of a man fighting for his life, devoid of anything but the single-minded mission to kill or be killed.

  He apparently understood the gravity of the situation, too, because he seemed more taken aback by the second. His eyes drifted closed and he swiped both hands over the top of his head, sending a spray of water flying into the night.

  “I didn’t think you’d want anyone to see you here.” She forced a quiet, steady tone, hoping a display of calm would transfer to him, easing the tension that visibly gripped his body.

  “I am so sorry, Kelly. I can’t believe I did that.” He extended a hand toward her, then yanked it back, as if afraid she’d break were he to touch her now. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “I don’t know how you can be. I nearly took your head off. I…I didn’t hear you.” The last was said more to himself than to her. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear you.”

  “You were looking in the other direction. I think someone came outside to smoke, because I heard a door close and thought I saw the flash of a lighter. And I was walking on the grass to avoid the puddles.”

  He wiped the water from his face once more, then glanced at the path, as if checking for the actual presence of puddles. “I should be at the banquet.”

  “Not like that. Why don’t you come inside and dry off first? Sit down. Have a drink if you need one.”

  “Christ.” He looked at her as if truly seeing her for the first time since she walked up behind him. “That’s what I was about to do. When you showed up, that is. I heard the other door bang shut and thought I should get inside to dry off.”

  Their gazes simultaneously went in the direction where the smoker had exited earlier, but no one was visible, nor was there the telltale scent of cigarettes. In the downpour, Kelly doubted the person would’ve had much luck. He’d probably gone inside before Kelly’d even reached Massimo.

  “I’m sure he’s long gone. Come on.” She turned and picked her way between the puddles toward the back door of Massimo’s apartment. A heartbeat later, she was gratified to hear his steps on the gravel behind her. She keyed them in to see Gaspare waiting just inside the door, as if it’d been his place all along to ensure his master made it home.

  Massimo stepped inside behind her and frowned down at the dog. “He’s wet.”

  “He needed a bathroom break. I only saw you because he did first.”

  Massimo processed that as they entered the bedroom. She crossed to his en suite bathroom and grabbed two large, white towels from the shelf beside the shower enclosure.

  “Were you working?” he asked when she re-entered the bedroom. Standing in his room in a formal suit and jacket, dripping water onto the floor, he appeared an entirely different man than the one who’d commanded everyone’s attention at the parade this afternoon. He had the same strong, debonair look as James Bond might if he’d pursued a villain through the rain, but there was a vulnerability, too, as if he’d faced a life and death battle and doubted his ability to survive it. She forced her gaze away, knowing he’d never want her to notice.

  “I had a couple things I wanted to do after the parade, but I’m finished for the night.” She handed him a towel, then unfolded the other and started rubbing her head. Gaspare watched from the corner of the room, fascinated, but Massimo made no move to dry himself. It was as if his thoughts were stuck on whatever occupied him while he’d been sitting on the bench staring into the rain. She paused, draping her towel around her shoulders. “And you?”

  “And…me? Me what?”

  Now she knew he was preoccupied. “Were you finished for the night? I assume whatever you were doing in the garden wasn’t part of your meet-and-greet duties at the banquet.”

  That brought the life back into his expression. Not a smile, exactly, but a crack in the tension that enveloped him. “I was about to go back, but I’m not in any condition at the moment. And by the time I find the right clothing amongst all these racks and change, I suspect the celebration will be winding down.”

  “I’m happy to help with the clothing part. Your suits and formalwear are mostly on that rack over there if you decide to return to the banquet” —she indicated the far corner of the room— “and the casual clothing is in this dresser and stacked over here. I think Robert was hoping that the closet would be finished before he brought in his first round of purchases, but I did the best I could in the meantime.”

  “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you weren’t doing a good job.”

  “I know.” She bit the inside of her lip. “Well, whatever you decide to change into, I recommend you dry off first.”

  “At this point, I’m going casual.” Before she could excuse herself, he stripped off his jacket and dropped it to the hardwood floor, then began mopping his face and hair with the towel. The last time she’d seen him swiping a towel over his head, he’d been stepping out of the shower in her villa and gloriously naked. He’d caught her admiring him, flipped the towel over his head and wrapped it around her, using it to pull her body fast to his. He’d given her a soul-searing kiss, one that drove them right back to bed.

  She shoved back the mental image and forced a neutral expression. How was it her mind instantly went to sex with the man when his mind was assuredly on anything but sex?

  “Would you like me to find something for you to wear?” she managed.

  “That’d be great, thanks. T-shirt is fine. Whatever color. And I saw some khaki pants earlier. I think I can find those.”

  Kelly turned toward the dresser where she had stored the prince’s few T-shirts until Robert filled out the collection. She took her time picking through them, allowing him privacy as he dried off while giving herself a break from temptation. She shouldn’t have noticed the way his formal shirt clung to his chest after he’d removed the suit jacket, but how could she not? The man was ripped. And a man built like Massimo in a wet, white shirt demanded one’s attention. She located a light blue T-shirt Robert had selected, then turned and handed it to Massimo.

  Only to discover that now he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. Both the white formal shirt and the undershirt lay on the floor in a soggy pile beside the suit jacket.

  She handed him the T-shirt, careful to keep a polite distance between them. She needed to find a way to extricate herself from the room before his trousers joined the pile. If she didn’t, she’d be blushing so furiously he’d know the direction of her thoughts. As he looped the towel over a nearby clothing rack so he could pull the shirt over his head, she began gathering his clothes from the floor, then used her own towel to sop up the mess left behind.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Better not to ruin the hardwood, don’t you think? Where should I put all this?”

  He frowned at the sodden clothing as he eased the shirt over his abs. “I have a laundry bin in the bathroom that housekeeping checks daily, but I’d rather not put those in there.”

&n
bsp; “I’ll just hang them in the bathroom.”

  “I’m perfectly capable.” He scooped the dripping pile from her arms. His warm skin, the wet garments, and the faint hint of his cologne combined to render her temporarily speechless. What man with his wealth, his looks, his engaging personality, and a house full of staff would do what amounted to housework as if it were his normal routine?

  She gazed up at him as he captured a sleeve that escaped from the bundle, preventing it from leaving a water trail on the floor.

  I could fall in love with a man like Massimo.

  The thought frightened her as soon as it entered her mind. It’d taken her months to commit to Ted. And now she was looking at a man she’d only known a few days and considering…what?

  Massimo paused and met her gaze, then held it, as if the contact affected him, too. “I’m so sorry about the garden, Kelly. I never should have—”

  “You’ve already apologized. It’s all right.”

  She needed to get out of the room before words like love stuck in her brain rather than flitting through with all the staying power of a floating soap bubble.

  “No, it’s not.” He looked at her for another heartbeat, his eyes searching hers before he broke contact and strode to the bathroom to set the wet clothing on the counter. He reached back into the bedroom to snare a pair of folded khakis from a stack of clothing near the dresser.

  She was about to excuse herself when he said, “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  Damn.

  The word echoed in Massimo’s head as he wrung out his shirt and flopped it over the door to the shower, adjusting the fabric so it would drip dry into the shower rather than onto the tile floor. His undershirt and jacket followed before he stripped off his slacks, wrung them out, then spread them over the towel rack.