“Cheers to that.” Bella lifted her glass. “Hopefully, he’ll settle down soon, but he’s an adult so you have to let him live his life.”
“I just feel bad. Everyone’s put so much effort into him. Darias paid a fortune for him to go to rehab, and then Rigo giving him a job.… You’re surprised by that, aren’t you?”
“I am. I shouldn’t be, though. He seems to devote his legal career to helping those in need.”
“I suspect that on the inside he’s not has flinty hard as he’d have us all believe.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Bella lifted a brow. “He’s a bit of a slave driver. I wish I was faster but then I might make a mistake.”
“You’re being wasted shuffling papers. I hope you get to open your animal sanctuary soon.”
“Me too.” Emma had no idea that if things went as planned today, she’d have the funds ready to go.
They chattered about inconsequential things for the rest of the meal. Rigo was seated about twenty people farther down, nearer to Serena and Sandro, and didn’t turn to look at her once.
When the speeches started she snuck an occasional glance at him, careful to quickly avert her gaze any time he moved.
A very handsome man called Zadir Al Kilanjar had everyone laughing when he took credit for Serena and Sandro meeting because they were accidentally double booked in his beach house over Christmas. And then again when he said that everyone tended to assume that his wife and Sandro’s knew each other because they were both African American, so thankfully after this visit, they would. Zadir’s wife, Ronnie, was lovely, but Bella could tell she was shy and rather overwhelmed by the large Leone clan, so she made sure to smile at her warmly.
Bella rather hoped the speeches would go on forever, so she wouldn’t have to face the next part of the day’s events—in which she would have to somehow kiss Rigo—again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The sun was setting by the time people finished their wedding cake and rose from the tables to dance. She’d have to keep an eye on Rigo and make sure he didn’t slip off somewhere. She could feel her father’s eyes on her, even though she deliberately avoided looking around for him. She didn’t want to be any more self-conscious than she already was.
She dreaded kissing Rigo again.
Not because she didn’t want to kiss him. She did want to kiss him. Her lips still hummed with the feel of his mouth on hers.
It was the part afterward she shrank from. Where he’d avoid her—like he was now—and then quietly fire her.
The part where she’d never see him again.
She hadn’t realized until now how much it would hurt to lose Rigo’s respect. She’d never see another of those exasperated but amused glances. She’d never get to watch his hard mouth hitch in a slight smile that she’d coaxed out of him.
“Bella.” Beatriz’s voice jerked her out of her reverie. “When the music starts Sandro and Serena will lead the way out onto the dance floor, and then the rest of us royal couples will join them for a dance. It’s really just so the press can get some nice clean shots of us.”
“Okay.” Her voice quivered a little. She wasn’t nervous about the dancing. She’d taken enough dance lessons to handle a waltz or a polka or even a tango. She was nervous because this was the perfect opportunity.
To kiss Rigo and screw up her life.
No! This is how you are going to start your new life! You’ll be able to buy a country cottage with a big garden and plenty of room for animals. Maybe even a field so you can rescue livestock that needs saving. It’s going to be great.
She tried to convince herself, but the sinking feeling in her chest persisted.
The jazz band suddenly struck up a bright dance tune. She looked up to see Sandro and Serena rising from their seats with smiles on their faces.
It’s now or never.
Maybe no one would notice the kiss. They’d be busy staring at the gorgeous bride and her handsome groom, and no one would pay any attention to the far less interesting couple off in a dark corner. Her dad would see and maybe just enough people that his bizarre plan would actually work. Rigo wouldn’t be able to go after her father so he’d focus his attention on finding the real killer and everything would gradually go back to normal.
In a month or two, Rigo would be back in New York and she could forget about him forever. Right?
Everyone rose from their seats, and she finally dared to cast her eyes toward Rigo. Her heart seized when his gaze met hers.
Of course he didn’t want to dance with her, but he was seasoned to royal protocol and would play the role thrust upon him. His expression remained rigid as he took her hand and led her toward the center of the courtyard.
Her palm heated against his, and she reminded herself that the sudden rush of sensation was totally one-sided. She kept her expression pleasantly neutral as Serena and Sandro twirled around the dance floor. Flashing cameras made her blink and for a second she felt lightheaded, then she took a deep breath and braced herself to dance.
It was a foxtrot. Easy enough—except for the part where Rigo put his arm around her waist and rested his big hand right above her backside. Her elegant dress was so thin that she could feel the warmth of his skin right through the fabric. It sent a thrill of awareness through her, and she stiffened in response.
Act natural! She needed to stay relaxed and act like she was having fun. She pushed a smile to her lips, steering her gaze into Rigo’s broad shoulder. They moved around the bride and groom, in time to the music, as the cameras flashed and the crowd stared.
She didn’t know how long they would have to keep dancing, but it wouldn’t be forever.
It’s now or never. She screwed up her courage and drew a deep, silent breath as far down into her belly as she could. Then she tilted her chin up—with her high heels she was just tall enough to kiss him without him bending down.
Go on. Do it.
She hesitated, lips hovering six hot inches from his. Terror swirled inside her like those six inches were a tightrope over a boiling river. What if he didn’t let her kiss him? He could push her away in front of everyone or jerk his head aside. Maybe even bite her.
The music had segued into a different tune, faster, so she had to focus on her feet for a moment to keep up.
He won’t bite. At least she didn’t think so.
Do it!!
She jutted her chin forward, leaned in, and pressed her lips to his. To her surprise, his hand pressed harder into her back. Instead of pushing her away, he pulled her closer. His lips responded too, softening against hers and melting her from the inside out.
The music swelled around them, drowning out all other sound. Something rose inside her, shoving her fears away and tightening her arms around Rigo. The kiss deepened and she could feel his hard body through his formal attire, wrapping around her and drawing her to him.
“Rigo!” A harsh whisper made her eyes pop open. and their lips spring apart. Her gaze landed on Beatriz, dancing close to them with her partner, Lorenzo. “What are you doing? The cameras are focusing on you and not the bride and groom.” Beatriz looked appropriately scandalized.
Bella glanced around the courtyard, where flashbulbs still popped against the dark night and the dim party lighting. Suddenly it seemed like every eye in the place was trained directly on her.
Her stomach descended somewhere down near her knees, and her mouth dried up.
She risked a glance at Rigo. His face was a chiseled mask—as usual—but in his eyes she could see a fierce gleam of…something. She couldn’t decide whether it was desire or sheer panic.
I’m sorry. Should she say it? She’d achieved her goal and should feel a surge of triumph. Instead she felt like she’d just betrayed her country in a shameful act of treason.
She realized that she’d forgotten to force a polite smile to her lips, and she attempted one, but it ended in shaky failure. She jerked her attention, while still stumbling through a dance, to Serena and Sandro, who whirle
d around in the froth of her white dress, oblivious to anything happening around them.
A flash—aimed right at her—blinded her for a moment and left hot-pink dots in her vision. Adrenaline surged through her, and she felt a violent urge to flee. She steeled herself to keep going and focused her pink-spotted gaze on Rigo’s right shoulder, while attempting not to trip over his feet.
After what felt like six hours, the dance finally ended and the crowd erupted into applause. She turned to the happy couple with a big forced smile on her face and attempted to look like nothing whatsoever had happened.
I hate myself.
She’d used Rigo to earn money from her own father. How twisted was that? She had an actual job like a normal person—not that most normal people worked in a palace—and that wasn’t enough for her. She had to jump into an underhanded scheme to take advantage of the most principled and careful and thoughtful man she’d ever met.
She didn’t dare look at him.
But the really weird part—which gnawed at her as they pulled apart—was that once again he had kissed her back. A split-second glance revealed that Rigo was looking off into the far distance, face hard as the Dolomite Mountains. As she racked her brain for something innocuous to say, he turned left and wove through the crowd without a backward glance.
She saw Beatriz looking after him—his disappearance would probably screw up another ceremonial display of couplehood—then Beatriz’s gaze landed on hers. The look Beatriz gave her almost iced over her insides.
You’re fired.
Bella could hear the unspoken words louder than the music, which had launched into a fast pop tune that drew other guests onto the floor.
She realized she was biting her lip—hard—and she tried to unclench her teeth and figure out where to hide.
Rigo strode out of the courtyard, heart pounding. What had come over him?
This wasn’t the first time an employee had made a pass at him. Some paralegals and interns he’d encountered in New York City could make a hardened lothario blush.
But this was certainly the first time he’d responded like a besotted lover.
He headed down a dark colonnade, away from the din of the music. He’d been shocked when Bella kissed him in the carriage. Startled by the kiss, then disturbed by how his lips had responded instinctively to hers. He’d written it off as a fit of foolish romance brought on by the wedding atmosphere.
No one had seen that kiss, and they could both dismiss it as a transient mistake and forget it.
But this last kiss—longer, deeper, and more powerful than the first—had been witnessed by hundreds. And when the pictures turned up online and in the papers the next day, it would be seen by hundreds of thousands.
No one will care. They came to see Sandro and Serena.
He tried to convince himself, but he knew it wasn’t true.
Royal romance was always a subject for fevered interest and speculation. For some reason perfectly normal, sane people dreamed of joining the “family firm,” where—in exchange for giving up most of your freedom and all of your privacy—you could enjoy financial security and life in a gaudy palace.
He’d been warned about such gold diggers from an early age, as had all his siblings. Bella didn’t even fit the bill, though. She was from a wealthy family and clearly had at least something of a close relationship with her sleazy father, who spent the year traveling between his palatial houses, the headquarters of the various corporations he was involved with, and the ports where his yachts were docked.
Yes, Bella had a job at the palace, but lady-in-waiting wasn’t a real job. There were no promotional prospects or a clear career path to follow. It was the kind of job that a pretty young woman from a good family would do for a short time while waiting for the right well-born and wealthy young man to ask her to marry him.
And from her actions today, it seemed that Bella had set her sights on him.
Rigo reached the end of the dark hallway and turned toward the stairs, ready to take the quiet back route up to the second floor and the sanctuary of his room. He stopped and drew in a deep breath.
I’m running away.
Bella had him hiding in his own family’s house. He straightened his shoulders and turned around. He could hardly escape the bizarre situation she’d put him in by burying his head in the sand, or underneath his bedcovers. He needed to tell her—in no uncertain terms—that there would be no romance between them.
His feelings for her were simple brute attraction, nothing more. She was a pretty young woman with a curvy body. She knew her assets and played them to her advantage—all while having the arrogance to bring a ferret to work with her.
He marched back down the corridor toward the party. Thank heaven he was the kind of man whose head ruled his heart and not the other way around, or he might be vulnerable to her feminine wiles. He could set her straight and clear the air, then when the press stories came out the palace press office could simply dismiss them as nothing worth commenting on.
He stiffened as the music grew louder and he had to weave his way through knots of people, accepting a glass of champagne, greeting and conversing with those he knew. All the while he scanned the room for Bella. At last he spotted her, her unmistakable curls escaping from her updo and cascading down past her shoulders, standing by a wide column, talking to someone hidden from his view.
He decided to wait silently until she was done with her conversation, then quickly and quietly make his point. He refused to let himself admire the way her dress hugged the seductive shape of her body. She’d used her looks and dubious charms on him for the last time. She didn’t see him approach because her back was half turned and she was engaged in animated conversation with the person behind the pillar.
As he drew close he noticed that her voice was a half whisper, which made his ears prick with suspicion. Why would you whisper a conversation during a loud and crowded party?
He loitered on the far side of the wide column, out of sight of both her and the person she spoke to, looking back at the crowd and praying no one would come talk to him.
“So you’re happy? That was enough?” Her voice rose enough that he could make out the words.
He couldn’t catch the mumbled reply but notice that the voice sounded like her father, Maurice Beauvoir.
“Thank goodness! Since the press took so many photos the kiss is probably at least in the back of some of them. So I get the money?”
“Yes.”
Hackles stood up on the back of Rigo’s neck. Her father had paid her to kiss him in public.
He cleared his throat loudly, and Bella whirled around. “Hi, Rigo.” Her voice had an edge of panic. As well it might.
“Mr. Beauvoir.” He nodded at her father, who looked gratifyingly alarmed. As he should after the ugly little trail of facts Rigo had presented to him during their chat at the palace.
“Prince Rigo, what a pleasure.” His words warred with the fear in his eyes.
Rigo felt a dark thrill of satisfaction. They knew that he knew. He wanted to come out and ask why Maurice had offered his daughter such a large sum to kiss him, but since there was no possibility of getting the truth he decided to make them sweat instead.
“Are you enjoying the party?” Rigo spoke slowly to Maurice.
“Oh, yes. It’s a wonderful gathering.” Maurice had the decency to look alarmed. “Nice to see so many old friends.”
“Indeed. Old friends and old enemies.” He kept his expression neutral. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell one from the other.”
Maurice blinked. “I’m sure everyone here wishes nothing but the best for the royal family.”
“Except, perhaps, the individuals involved in the murder of my father and grandmother.” He sipped his champagne calmly. “Or the intrigues surrounding the funds for the Cross of Blood.”
Maurice’s eyes darted around, maybe to see if anyone could overhear. “Indeed. I’m sure they’ll soon be brought to justice.”
&nbs
p; “I intend to make sure of it.” His suspicions of Maurice had been deepening since he first arrived. After the conversation he’d overheard he now suspected that Bella—innocent, sweet Bella—was also implicated.
“I do hope you’ll allow me to steal your daughter away.”
Bella’s eyes widened, and he watched her swallow hard.
“To the dance floor.” He said in much the same way he might have said “to a Siberian gulag.” Her response was an appropriate look of fear and concern.
“Of course,” she said calmly.
Rigo stared at Bella, intending to wither her to the spot with a blaze of hostility.
Instead her clear gaze made his breath hitch. Damn her. She knew the power she had over him, and she’d wielded it cleverly.
He’d have to make sure that the blow she’d struck him came back to her full force.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As Rigo marched Bella to the dance floor she stiffened like someone approaching a firing squad. In the midst of the throng of dancers, he pulled her roughly to face him. Her body convulsed slightly as he slid his hand to the small of her back.
He cursed the bolt of desire that stabbed him like a hot knife. How could he still feel even lust for a woman who’d kissed him with such cool calculation?
Heck, maybe he liked that part. The lawyer in him.
He looked over her head—her ebullient hair had now completely escaped its clips and pins—and fought the tide of arousal still rising inside him. They moved around the dance floor in time with the music, and he let a pleasantly awkward silence gather between them for a moment before he spoke.
“You earned the money. How much?” He said it coolly, as if he understood everything.
Her gaze flickered with distress. “A hundred thousand. For my animal sanctuary.” Her gaze darted to meet his, bright and pleading. “It should allow me to buy a small cottage in the countryside.”
“How generous of him,” he said drily. “I wouldn’t have taken him for an animal lover.”
Taming the Royal Beast (Royal House of Leone Book 6) Page 9
