The Princess's Scandalous Affair (Royal House of Leone Book 4)

by Jennifer Lewis

  The second venue was an old armory that had been renovated into a modern art gallery space. It was more dramatic and somehow more professional than the first, but the room was so large she worried that it would be hard to fill. She felt very small in it and worried that her collection would too.

  “I like the first one,” she said, as they exited onto the street. “It’s not as hip-looking, but I think it will be a better backdrop for my clothes. Let’s face it, my designs all have a traditional aspect to them.”

  “I liked it better too. More intimate. And I do love a beautiful old building that retains all its original features.”

  “Me too!” she exclaimed. Then she giggled. “Maybe it’s because we’re both from such ancient families, we can’t help it.” She and Lorenzo did have a lot in common. His family wasn’t technically royalty, but they’d been large landowners for as long as her family, if not longer. Besides, she was pretty sure his family’s land had been a principality at some point before Italy was unified, so he probably was royalty if you went back far enough.

  Not that it mattered to her. It was just nice not to have to worry about him thinking her too Old World or too rich or snobby. She was always anxious about being judged because she was a princess, but she never felt like Lorenzo was judging her.

  “I can’t wait to see what you do with the lake house.”

  His words startled her so much that she almost tripped on the pavement.

  “Uh.” She’d almost forgotten that she told him she had plans for it. “I haven’t gotten started on it yet. My family does use it from time to time. My brother Sandro has something going on there tomorrow.” Some ridiculous secret society initiation. She couldn’t believe he’d even consider joining the Cross of Blood when the cultish organization seemed to be linked to their father’s and grandmother’s deaths. Possibly it was part of their attempt to learn more about it—maybe even to infiltrate it and look for clues to the murders—but no one ever told her anything.

  “You don’t mind?”

  I don’t really have a choice. Darias had casually asked her—this morning—if they could meet there. He’d have been shocked if she’d said no. She didn’t want Lorenzo to know that no one really cared if she minded or not. She shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant. “No. It’s just sitting empty.”

  “Have you thought of moving there yourself?”

  “As a residence?” Her eyes widened. “I don’t need one. There’s plenty of room at the palace.”

  He opened the door of the car for her. She felt conscious of the security guard’s gaze on her from the car parked across the street. Lorenzo walked around to the driver’s side. “But don’t you ever want some privacy? A space of your own? Somewhere to decorate to your own taste?”

  She chewed her lip. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” She always assumed she’d move out when she finally got married—an event she’d all but given up thinking about. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Lorenzo that, though. “Living at the palace is convenient because the stables are there and the indoor arena is really the only way I can ride in winter. Of course my dad isn’t there to ride with, but my mom really needs me because otherwise she’d get lonely and…” She realized she was rambling and that Lorenzo was just staring at her.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He fixed that slate-gray, heart-melting gaze on her. “May I kiss you?”

  He must be asking because of the guard. In a way she didn’t mind the guard seeing. Everyone at the palace probably thought of her as Boring Beatriz, who’d never scandalize her loving family by kissing the scion of their ancient enemy.

  How ridiculous that was! As if a grudge could really continue from generation to generation. “I’d love that.”

  He leaned in and his lips met hers in a hot welcome.

  Beatriz felt herself melt into his arms. Since they’d made love she’d thought about little else than being in his arms again. He’d made her feel so alive, sexy, beautiful—things she’d never truly felt before. “I wish we weren’t in the car,” she whispered when their lips parted.

  “I have a tiny pied-à-terre in Milan.” He looked at her, a question in his eyes. “We could go there.”

  “I do need to be home for dinner, or my family will worry.” She hated how she sounded like a teenager with a curfew. She was a grown woman for crying out loud! Still, with everything that was going on, she didn’t want to alarm them.

  “It’s only a few streets away. Your security guard can park outside. We’ll be back at the palace by one hour after dusk.” He sounded hopeful.

  “Okay. Let me tell Nina.” She called and said they were stopping into a building briefly and she could park nearby. “Let’s go.”

  She felt a thrill of excitement as they pulled out of the parking space and headed through the streets. No one needed to know how she spent her afternoon, and Nina had promised total discretion. He used a remote to open a solid gate and drive into a cobbled courtyard, then closed the gate behind them.

  A carved door led them to a flight of stone stairs and up into a beautiful apartment decorated with fine Milanese antiques set against pure white walls and delicate textiles. “It belonged to my aunt Greta. She used it for her shopping trips since her family estate was so far from town. She left it to me when she died because she knew how much I love Milan.”

  “Were you close to her?”

  “She was like a mother to me. Her last words were for me to find the right woman to marry. I’ve felt her watching over me ever since.”

  Beatriz fought the urge to glance over her shoulder. His aunt Greta probably didn’t intend for him to use her pied-à-terre as a love nest. “How would she feel about you being here with me?”

  He paused, looking at her. “She’d be happy.” He said it softly, thoughtfully.

  Was she the woman his beloved aunt would have wanted him to marry? He’d said almost as much. The thought flattered—and alarmed—her. Was he really that serious? His expression said he was. Her heart swelled at the prospect that Lorenzo might really want a future with her.

  He took her hand and led her into a bedroom, also in soft white and warm wood. There he kissed her until her knees started to give way. She clung to him tighter, not afraid to lean on him. It felt good to sink into his strength—and rest.

  Then she kissed him back, exploring the contours of his face, enjoying the roughness of his afternoon stubble and the warm male smell of him.

  She unbuttoned his shirt, baring his hard tan chest. He pulled her sweater off over her head, then played with the long, tousled hair that came loose from her bun and fell over her shoulders.

  Now, when they kissed, her nipples poked his chest through her lacy bra, which made them tingle with arousal. She soon found herself fumbling with his belt, wanting more. This time he had condoms and soon they were naked on the bed, exploring each other’s bodies while the tension inside them built almost to breaking point.

  Lorenzo didn’t make her self-conscious. She didn’t feel clumsy and inexperienced, like she had in previous fumbling encounters with the opposite sex. Everything flowed so naturally between them, and she kissed and caressed him all over, enjoying the new and unfamiliar pleasure that shimmered inside her.

  When they couldn’t stand it any more, she sheathed him and he entered her, slowly and with exquisite tenderness. They moved together, to the percussion of their own heartbeats and increasingly labored breath, their movements growing faster and more intense as emotion rushed through her.

  I know why they call it making love. She could feel—something—building and growing between them, as their bodies shared such intense pleasure. They stroked and grabbed each other, passion rising to boiling point inside them. Eventually her climax got the better of her and she heard herself cry out—a strange, faraway sound—and she clung to him while shockwaves of sensation rolled through her and his own climax ripped a groan from his throat.

  Afterward they lay in each others arms under the soft cover
s, her heart brimming with affection for this man who’d dared to breach her family’s forbidding castle walls and pursue her in a way most men would never dare.

  “You should redecorate the lake house,” he whispered, as her head lay on his chest.

  “What?” For a moment she didn’t even know what he was talking about.

  “You could breathe new life into it. I believe houses have energy, a life of their own, and we need to nurture it just like we would a garden.”

  Beatriz lifted her head. Thoughts of the lake house scattered the happy, romantic thoughts she’d been lost in like a stiff breeze. “I don’t know. It’s kind of far away from everything, and the road isn’t all that great, especially in winter.”

  “It’s not more than twenty minutes from the palace, and you can improve the road. You have connections in high places.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “True.” She didn’t really like this whole idea. She’d been so pleased that he hadn’t mentioned the lake house. When he’d first started talking to her she’d suspected that she was merely a stepping-stone to his goal of owning it, and now that she’d given herself up to him and was lying naked in his arms, suddenly he was bringing it up again. “I’d only do it for myself, though. I’ve decided that I’d never sell it.”

  She looked hard at him, wanting to gauge his reaction.

  His gaze didn’t flicker. “Of course not. But you could live there. The lake is so beautiful, and the house itself is quite architecturally unusual.”

  Was it? She didn’t even know. Her dad had thought it ugly, but it was just the old house out by the lake to her. When had Lorenzo even been there? Her gut instincts told her to push back. “I don’t know. I think I have enough to do with getting this collection ready.” Suddenly her suspicions were returning. Maybe the whole collection was just a ruse so he could get close to her and trick her into handing over the house?

  She rose off his chest and sat up in bed. “We’d better get ready to leave.”

  “So soon.” His too-handsome face looked genuinely sad. “I wish I could hold you in my arms for ever.”

  “I have responsibilities,” she said stiffly. She wondered if she’d been too easy.

  “You’re right, and I admire you for being such a pillar of your family.” He climbed out of bed. She was already dressing. “And I promise I’ll have you back in plenty of time to shower and change for dinner.”

  “Thanks.” She dressed, still feeling wary.

  “It’s great that you have so many sketches already. When do you think you’ll have the final versions for Signora Pazzi?”

  “In a couple of weeks, I hope. I’m going to give her a call this week to hopefully set up an appointment to look at fabrics. I don’t want to finalize the designs until I have some idea of what I’m working with. Fabric makes such a difference to the way a piece falls.”

  “True. Will I be allowed to come along on this shopping expedition?” He looked so hopeful, like a little kid hoping to be taken to the pet store.

  “If you like.” She wanted to laugh. He seemed to be enjoying this as much as her, which was just too sweet.

  He made the bed and smoothed the covers, and the way his hand lingered on the soft white bedspread made her think of his mom and his feelings for her, which tugged at her heart and made her want to hug him again.

  Her upbringing had made her so paranoid about people wanting to use her. Quite the reverse, Lorenzo had offered a helping hand so she could fulfill a private dream. She’d never have dared to embark on something like this by herself.

  On the drive back, doubts started to creep in through all the cracks in her psyche. And not just doubts about Lorenzo. “What if I’m kidding myself and I can’t pull off a good collection?”

  “I have total confidence in you.” He shot her a winning smile. “And since you have no boss you can keep tweaking until everything is just the way you want it.”

  She mulled that over. “What if no one comes to the opening? I’m an unknown. Why would anyone care about my designs?”

  Now he laughed. “You’re a princess. People care about everything you do. They’ll come just because they’re curious, even the fashion press.”

  “But I thought I was going to use an assumed name to avoid people making assumptions about me.” She hadn’t really thought about how much more difficult that would make it to get attention.

  “You could, but wouldn’t you rather have people know it’s really you?”

  She bit her lip. “I suppose so.” Having her name on it tugged at all her insecurities. “But what if people don’t take my designs seriously because I’m a princess? They’ll think it’s just an idle pastime.”

  “The designs will speak for themselves. Have some more confidence in your talent. Everyone has to start somewhere. We’ll put together a press release the week before, just long enough so people have time to make plans to come to the show, but not so long that they’ll have time to form opinions before they see your work.”

  Beatriz inhaled deeply. “You make everything sound so easy.”

  “There’s no reason to complicate matters. Make a plan, execute it and have faith that it will go as intended.”

  “It’s that last part that I’m having trouble with. I guess I’m not much of a mover and shaker.”

  “That’s okay. I am, so I’ll help with that part.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek—while driving at seventy kilometers per hour on a winding road. “It’ll be a big success. Trust me.”

  Trust me. Beatriz had learned never to really trust any man—and she’d been strongly cautioned never to trust Lorenzo Aldobrando. Still, this was her dream and she was going to do her very best to make it come true.

  “And this time I’m going to escort you home. There’s no reason for us to be sneaking behind your family’s back.”

  Beatriz felt adrenaline zing through her. But really, why shouldn’t he meet them? They could put all the nastiness behind them and maybe she’d start to feel like they were a real couple with a future. She drew in a shaky breath. “Okay.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Beatriz felt her pulse accelerate as they pulled up to the main gates of the palace. Being winter it was already dark and she could see more guards than usual milling about and cars in the driveway. “I wonder what’s going on?” she murmured, as they drew close.

  Lorenzo rolled down the window and smiled at the guard in the gatehouse. “I’m escorting Princess Beatriz home.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we have orders not to let anyone outside the family into the palace.”

  “Why?” Beatriz felt panic rise in her chest. Had something happened?

  “Just a precaution, your highness. There was an unwelcome visitor earlier today. Our security staff is on alert. Nina will drive you to the door.”

  She glanced at Lorenzo. “I’m sorry.”

  “No problem.” He made an effort to look like he didn’t mind, but she could tell he did.

  “Another time.” She unbuckled her seat belt. All this extra security was rattling her nerves. It was bad enough being followed everywhere by a virtual stranger. She wanted to kiss Lorenzo goodbye but restrained herself. She didn’t need the staff gossiping.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said softly before she closed the door. She climbed into Nina’s car and watched as the guards directed Lorenzo around a small loop and back out the gate.

  “Nina, what’s going on?”

  Nina always looked thoroughly serious and professional, her hair tied back in a neat bun that sat tidily above the collar of her crisp shirt. “An American actress showed up to see Sandro and had to be escorted from the palace. Then there’s an offsite event tonight and Gibran has called for full security. Every member of the household is under surveillance, including all the staff, and they’re following everyone’s movements closely.”

  Oh, yes, the Cross of Blood meeting. Her brother Sandro was being inducted. She rather wished she could go and see what all
the fuss was about. It could hardly be dangerous with a phalanx of security guards hovering over the proceedings.

  Nina drove her to the door, and she got out. Luckily no one was at the door to grill her about her whereabouts. In fact everyone seemed to be in rather a flap—even the staff were rushing about and tension crackled in the air.

  She managed to change for dinner and get downstairs, fully prepared to describe her unsuccessful shopping trip to Milan, but no one seemed to care. Sandro and Serena were fussing over her little dog. Darias and Emma strode over and talked to them without even noticing her.

  Only Aunt Liesel made a beeline for her. “Did you hear about it? She claims she’s pregnant!”

  Beatriz pretended to look like she cared. “Who?”

  “Maya Dunham. The actress.” She leaned in. “She insists that Sandro’s the father.”

  “I had no idea they were involved.” Beatriz regretted bringing Liesel here. She’d only done it to deflect attention from herself and Lorenzo. Now Liesel showed no signs of leaving and was likely to be even more nosy about Lorenzo than anyone else. Whoops.

  “Oh, yes, it’s been all over the papers, but I don’t suppose you read them anyway.”

  “No, none of us do. It’s important for staying sane.” Not that she was ever mentioned.

  “Well, you can imagine how that went over when Sandro is here with another woman.” Liesel lifted a thin brow. “His new girlfriend was quite upset.”

  “I can imagine.” But it was, in fact, hard to imagine. Serena was unbelievably cool and gracious, considering she’d been hurled headlong into the middle of the palace crisis. If anything Beatriz suspected the actress was lying. Sandro might love women, but he wasn’t the type to two-time anyone and she could see he was besotted with Serena. And her little black-and-white dog, Lucky—who was adorable.

  Beatriz would be madly jealous if it wasn’t for Lorenzo looking at her in much the same way. She fought a smile that wanted to rush to her lips. Liesel was talking about her horse who had a suspensory ligament issue—again—and all she had to do was nod and look sympathetic. She tried not to think about how she might well end up like Liesel in twenty years, a bitter spinster rambling on about her horse’s legs while people looked bored and nodded.