The Royals of Monterra: Royal Rivals (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Rebecca Connolly

  I nodded, brushing my hands along my dress nervously. “You heard me.”

  “I know I did,” he said, straightening himself and running a hand through his already slightly disheveled hair, setting his own drink aside. “I just didn’t think you would sink yourself so low.”

  I snarled at him, now having to crane my neck up as he stepped closer. “It’s not like I have any other choices. I refuse to kiss a stranger, especially when I am expected to apparently ‘make it good,’ and who knows where those mouths and tongues have been.”

  He put his hands into his pockets and tilted his head at me. “You don’t know where mine has been. And who said anything about tongue?”

  I gave him a dirty look, ignoring that. “I know you better than anyone else in this room, so I’d prefer to take my chances there. And I know that kisses mean nothing to you, so I’m safe from any of this.”

  His high brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to reply when Severo, now holding hands with a tipsy girl in tight black leather, took the microphone once more. “Remember, the best first kiss ever! The judges will know!”

  I snorted and ran a hand over my curls as my heart rate picked up. “Please. ‘The judges will know.’ Who is judging if we’re all busy snogging?”

  Salvatore stepped closer, and I could now feel the warmth of his body, which sent my mind skittering sideways as my pulse kicked up another notch. I could smell him now, and began to tingle all over with the desire to suddenly do exactly what I was about to.

  I had to get control of myself. It was only Salvatore, I could barely tolerate him under normal circumstances, and was only going to be kissing him to avoid being kicked out of the party.

  Make it good, my mind warned, and my skin prickled in anticipation, deciding most unfortunately to get involved

  I tried to quiet all parts of me when Salvatore suddenly slid his hands along my jaw and into my hair. “Make it good, fatina,” he reminded me in a low voice that raced down my spine.

  I looked him squarely in the eye and gripped his shirt in both of my hands, yanking him closer. “I will,” I vowed.

  The deep clanging of the clock sounded and I arched up to press my lips to his, kissing him as if my very life depended on it.

  His lips were soft and warm, and very, very talented. He cupped my face gently, though his mouth devoured mine with a hunger that took me by surprise. Not to be outdone, I matched him, seizing the back of his neck with one hand while the other continued to pull at him.

  Slowly, by degrees, and yet somehow with escalating speed, the kisses became more and more frantic, more passionate, deep and intense. My height truly became a disadvantage to us both, keeping me at a maddening distance, and I pressed my fingers into the back of his neck, the edges of my nails digging into the skin as I forced him to come down to meet my suddenly very eager lips.

  He growled in approval, and I swallowed the sound, moaning with relief and satisfaction when one of his hands moved and wrapped around my waist, hauling me up to him, my feet barely touching the floor. I kissed him deeper, over and over, slanting my mouth over his, losing myself in our passionate duel. His hold on me bordered on the painful, but I thrilled with its possessiveness and I clung just as tightly to him.

  Sighing, gasping, I released his shirt and gripped his head in both hands tightly, giving myself up to this incredible onslaught, begging him for more, and reaching for more within myself.

  How long had it been since I had felt this excitement, this aching need racing through me? How long since someone had been able to drive me here, to wring this much from me?

  How long had I wanted exactly this?

  Salvatore gentled the kisses, but they were no less intense as he drank from my lips, murmuring softly in Italian in tones that made my body flame all over, his mouth suddenly trailing along my jaw and neck. I sighed heavily and feverishly dragged his mouth back to mine, wild for the taste of him, desperate for more…

  Another bell sounded, this one more like the sound of a fighter’s ring.

  “Finito!” Severo called, sounding drunker than before. “All done, break it up!”

  Break it up? I had barely started, and I was suddenly starving…

  I felt myself slowly lowered to the ground, my legs unsteady on their towering heels. My hands slid from their clenching grip and I exhaled slowly, shakily, and heard him do the same.

  Him…

  Salvatore…

  Oh no.

  I opened my eyes to look at the man who had set me completely on fire and found him staring at me with the same horror, the same breathlessness, and the same flushed face, wild eyes, and ruffled hair and clothing.

  That had been the most soul-stirring kiss I had ever had in my entire life, and apparently I had blown his mind as well.

  And as much as I couldn’t stand him, staring at him, knowing what we had shared, I desperately wanted to do it again.

  “Claire,” he murmured, sounding impressed and stunned and sultry, and very dangerous.

  I couldn’t do this, not with him, not feeling this way, so I did the only sensible thing I could.

  I ran.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I woke up the next morning with a raging headache like I’d had too much to drink, but I knew I hadn’t. I hadn’t overindulged in anything at all the night before.

  Except a certain Monterran who made my knees go weak with even the memory of his kisses.

  I released a small cry of distress, grabbed a pillow, and pressed it to my face as I screamed.

  Salvatore? Really? Of all the men I could have enjoyed kissing, it had to be him?

  I was in sadder straits than I thought.

  But that hadn’t been a kiss. That had been some sort of full-bodied symphony that our lips had started, but the rest of us had taken up. That had been something mad and wild, something utterly insane and completely inexplicable.

  And absolutely unrepeatable.

  There was absolutely no way I was doing that again. I was simply lonely and more desperate than I’d thought. I would just get a boyfriend when I returned to England, satisfy whatever needs I might have, and move on, as I always did.

  It’s not the same thing, my mind and body taunted.

  “It is!” I insisted through the pillow.

  It wasn’t.

  But I would go on pretending it was.

  Anything else was unthinkable.

  I sat up slowly, running my fingers into my hair, wincing when they tangled on a snarl. That was what I got for going to bed without doing anything to my hair, and…

  I frowned as I felt for the pins I’d used to pull my hair back, and only found two of the five.

  I turned and looked down at the pillows and mattress, but none were there.

  Then where…?

  I froze as the memory of the kiss replayed yet again, slowly and in great detail, and I could almost see the pins falling one by one from my hair as his fingers nimbly flicked them away to have a better grip.

  A sighing sound met my ears, and I realized I’d made it. I caught myself and cleared my throat quickly, then looked around the room. My dress lay crumpled on the floor, as I’d shed it frantically as I’d entered, desperate to climb into bed without any more reminders of what had happened. Face full of makeup, hair completely in disarray, and no pajamas at all, just my underwear.

  It had been quite a long time since I’d done that. If I ever had.

  I slowly shook my head, took out my remaining pins, and drew the covers up to cover myself, shivering. It was Italy, but the house was kept surprisingly cool. That might come in handy later, if the weather turned as warm as I expected.

  And there was a strong possibility that I would be spending a lot of time inside the house instead of out, if things were as bad as I feared.

  I glanced over at the door where, sure enough, a folded piece of paper lay, one corner still under the threshold.

  It seemed to glint in the morning light, daring me to come and see what
I would be subjected to, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was brave enough to look. But the other alternative was staying in bed, and that wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

  I refused to sulk in here, or to hide away like a terrified little girl.

  Tossing aside the covers, I padded across the floor and picked it up, scanning the details quickly.

  Today was a tour of Tuscany that had been arranged for us, whether by car or bike or by walking the countryside nearby. We were only a few miles outside of Florence, but all of Tuscany was at our disposal. That ought to be safe enough, and getting out of the villa would be a refreshing change of pace after yesterday. I ought to be able to maintain distance that way.

  Then there was a free day of shopping and wine tasting, neither of which I was particularly keen on, a day of competition, a scavenger hunt, picnics at the beach, a night on the town, and our last day would be free during the day with a farewell formal to close out the festivities. I didn’t doubt that they would have another mischievous scheme planned out for that, but I was grateful to have brought a formal gown for the occasion.

  All in all, it was a surprisingly relaxed schedule of events without too much to force us into ridiculous activities. And considering the behavior of the Catalano brothers last night, I expected less morality throughout the week.

  Rosalia must have planned it all out, and her brothers were interjecting their stupidity into the mix. That was no great surprise, they had plenty of stupidity to go around between them.

  I could only hope it wasn’t contagious.

  Still, it had been a long time since I had seen Tuscany without some event to attend or agenda to keep to. I would enjoy seeing the sights and the countryside.

  I showered and changed quickly, tossing on some of my more casual clothes and not particularly caring what anybody thought. If we could have a relaxed time of it here, then I was certainly going to relax.

  Breakfast was a fairly standard European spread, nothing to write home about, but appealing enough. The only people in the breakfast room were two rather sluggish men who barely talked to each other, let alone to anyone else, and three girls in yoga pants and bra tops, obviously having just finished some sort of session. I never claimed to understand any of that, nor was I flexible enough to attempt any of it.

  One of them I recognized from various other engagements I had been to from time to time, but her name escaped me. She was nice enough, I supposed, which meant I had very little to do with her. That was the way it worked. If I didn’t know their flaws, I simply hadn’t found them yet.

  Apparently that wasn’t polite, and was why I had no friends.

  Or so Olivia had told me.

  I took my breakfast out onto the veranda and sat at a small table, enjoying the morning sun on my face and legs. The view was remarkable, and I could see fields and fields of wildflowers and sunflowers in the distance. I itched to go out and see them for myself, to perhaps sketch them so that I could paint it later, or at the very least, take pictures for reference. I hadn’t drawn anything in weeks, and here I could do so without being told it was a waste of time.

  And I wouldn’t lack for inspiration, that was for sure. It was everywhere, and getting out today would only heighten that.

  Others would take cars today to be driven on their tours, occasionally getting out to see something of interest. Those who didn’t want to go very far would walk, sticking to the areas close to the house and probably seeing a lot, but never quite enough.

  I was going to take a bike. I wasn’t an amazing cyclist, but this wasn’t the Tour de France, and I wanted to experience Tuscany and Florence in all its glory, with all of the senses I could. I could walk the paths near the house in the evenings, when I wasn’t occupied by whatever event was going on, and I didn’t need to spend the entire day so close to the villa. I wanted to get away while I could, and any chance to avoid talking to anyone at the house was more than welcome.

  I sighed as I finished my breakfast and leaned my head back, letting the sun warm my face.

  “Is anyone sitting here?”

  I shook my head before I recognized the voice, and by the time I did, it was too late. Salvatore was sitting at the table and eating his sausages before I could do anything about it. “Good morning, fatina,” he said between bites.

  I took comfort in the fact that there were absolutely no fluttering sensations when he called me that this morning. Only a screaming irritation and a desire to kick him in the shins.

  What a relief, I was back to myself.

  “Good morning,” I replied, keeping my voice level and disinterested.

  “Have you decided what sort of sightseeing you wanted to do today?” he asked, dabbing his napkin to his mouth, which I couldn’t stop staring at. Perfect lips must always be appreciated, and his were the most perfect I’d ever seen, let alone kissed.

  I pretended to swat at a fly and coughed, wrenching my attention away from the mouth that I’d come to know too well too quickly. “What?”

  A corner of his mouth lifted and he sat back in his chair, his almost perfectly fitted oatmeal-colored Henley open at the collar and exposing his tanned throat. “Sightseeing. You know, the tour. I thought I might take a bike, and wondered if you’d come along.”

  I stared at him longer than I should have, but he’d asked me to do exactly what I wanted to do, except he was going to come along. How was I supposed to react to that? Pretend I wanted to do something else? Suffer through the inanity of everybody else at this house party in an attempt to avoid him?

  That was entirely too much work.

  “I was going to take a bike tour myself,” I told him quite plainly. “But I had no intention of anyone else coming with me.”

  Salvatore seemed to laugh to himself. “That seems lonely.”

  “I like being alone.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Only because you’re used to it.”

  I opened my mouth to argue back when I thought better of it and smiled just a little. “What, exactly, to you mean by that, Salvatore?”

  He shrugged and laced his fingers across his stomach. “You’ve made a mess of things, Claire, and nobody wants to see you anymore.” He tilted his head at me, smirking. “You’re all alone now, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.”

  I wondered if he would look so smug if his breakfast remains were all over his face and clothes. “And you cheated on the woman who is now married to the third in line for the throne of Monterra, and have alienated yourself from the royal family because you have the emotional capacity of a green olive.”

  His smile flickered and he pursed his lips, then nodded slowly. “Touché. Although I am not completely alienated. I, at least, am still welcome there. And Lemon is perfectly happy with Dante, which is what matters.”

  I barked a laugh and shook my head, looking away. “You’re going to sit there and tell me that is what matters?”

  He chuckled and scraped his chair as he crossed his ankles. “Well, that’s what everyone says, at least.”

  That was the Salvatore I’d known all this time, and it was a relief, oddly enough, to have him return to normal as well. I glanced back at him. “Why are you here? You look bored out of your mind.”

  Salvatore glanced at me, then sighed heavily, his dark eyes taking on a hint of the morning light in them. “I am bored out of my mind. With everything. And everyone.”

  “Well,” I scoffed, picking up my tea and sipping slowly, “that certainly explains why you are sitting here at breakfast having a chat with me…”

  “Sad, isn’t it?”

  I gave him a scolding look, and he returned it with one that dared me to contradict him. I just shook my head at him. “If you were half as charming as you think you are, you would have an entourage of females following you at all times.”

  He took a bite of muffin and made a face. “They get in the way. I left them in Monterra.” He smirked playfully and tilted his chin
down to look at me with a very serious expression. “Now, are you going to let me bike along with you or am I going to have to stalk you?”

  I coughed into my tea and tried not to choke. “Stalk me?”

  “Well, you can’t expect me to go around with anyone else at this party,” he said with a snort. “I’d rather enjoy the week as much as I can, and fighting with you is far better than pretending I can tolerate Severo or Antonio for five minutes together.”

  He had a fair point, though I would have thought he and the Catalano brothers would be great friends. And so long as he knew we would be fighting, was there really any harm in it?

  “This isn’t because of last night, is it?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes at him. “Because I’ll warn you now, I’ve forgotten most of it, I’d had a lot to drink, and…”

  “Relax, fatina,” Salvatore interrupted with a rough laugh. “It was only a kiss, and it wasn’t that great.”

  It wasn’t… That filthy liar, it was an AMAZING kiss, and we both knew it. I glared at him furiously.

  “Do you know you look like the grumpy dwarf when you make that face?” he commented with a smile.

  A sound that was half a snarl and half a screech came from my throat, but never formed into words.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Salvatore slapped his hands on his taut thighs and stood, pushing the sleeves of his Henley past his elbows. “I’ll meet you out front at eleven, Claire. And wear those shorts, they make your backside look rather fetching.”

  I gaped soundlessly as he went back into the house, and put my head in my hands. Great. Now I was going to be spending the day with that irritating Monterran, knowing what his kisses could do, and try to find some rejuvenation for myself in the meantime.

  How could I do that if I had to fight Salvatore the entire time?

  I shook my head and left the table myself, heading back into the house when one of the yoga girls stopped me.

  “You’re Lady Claire Sutherland, aren’t you?” she asked, her high ponytail annoying me right away.

  I nodded, folding my arms. Either she couldn’t read facial expressions, or she was too thick to interpret them. She’d learn quickly, though.