God, this was so much worse than anything Aunt Josephine had done. Especially if there was a baby...
She shook her head and forced a smile for Gianna. ‘Well, then, I guess I need something to take my mind off things, don’t you think? There must be something fun going on here at the palace, or some sort of royal trip that could benefit from a little bit of princessy sparkle, right?’
Anything to stop her wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t run out on Matteo that last night. If they’d actually talked about what happened when they went back to reality, instead of trying to pretend it wasn’t happening until the last minute.
If she was surprised at Isabella’s sudden—and mostly unprecedented—interest in palace events, Gianna didn’t show it. Probably because she knew how much she needed the distraction.
Instead, her assistant flipped through the giant paper organiser she insisted on using, even though the palace had invested in the latest technology for such things. ‘There’s a tea party for some of the country’s most successful charitable fundraisers in the rose garden on Thursday. A visit from Augusta’s greatest living novelist—’
Isabella groaned. ‘Again? Why can’t he just stay home and write more books?’ She liked his novels far more than his company, and he always seemed to try and sit next to her at formal dinner, especially since he’d been appointed the Royal Writer last year. ‘I definitely need something to get me away from the palace if he’s visiting.’
‘Well, Prince Leo is taking a trip to Rome at the weekend for a charity ball, if you really want to get away?’
Rome. ‘Really?’ She hadn’t told Gianna that Matteo was Italian. Or that, according to his social media accounts—which she was only stalking under an anonymous account—he lived in Rome. Was there right now, in fact.
Why call, when she could talk to him face to face?
‘Want me to ask your brother if there’s space for one more on the trip?’ Gianna asked, looking thrilled to have found something that distracted Isabella from her mysterious lover.
If only she knew...
‘Well, I have been meaning to practise my Italian,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘Why don’t you set it up, and I’ll see if I have anything suitable to wear for a ball?’
And for seeing Matteo again, she hoped.
Matteo didn’t know how Gabe talked him into stuff like this.
He was a racing driver, not some sort of wannabe philanthropist actor. Sure, he did what he could for causes that mattered to him—especially the cancer charity that had helped Giovanni in his last days. Most of his riskiest adventures were sponsored to raise money for them. But that was the point, wasn’t it? He liked doing things for charity.
Showing up at some fancy ball in a tux and having his photo taken a lot really didn’t count.
Still, it was for charity, and Gabe was right that his face was the most recognisable on the team. So Matteo had put on his tux jacket and bow tie and his best celeb smile and prepared himself for a dull evening.
If he’d seen the guest list earlier, he’d have known it would be anything but, he realised belatedly as a tall man with coal-black hair and dark eyes entered the room followed by a whole retinue and was announced.
‘His Royal Highness Leonardo, the Crown Prince of Augusta.’
Matteo’s chest tightened. So this was Isabella’s brother, Leo.
There was no reason to think that he’d have brought his sister with him, but Matteo couldn’t stop himself craning around to see if there was another royal hiding behind the Prince.
‘Looking for someone?’ Gabe asked, sounding amused.
It occurred to Matteo rather too late that his manager, in setting up the whole ‘perfect week in paradise’ thing, had probably got to see a lot of the paperwork, before and after the trip. Including the name of Matteo’s perfect match.
Damn.
‘Her Highness Princess Isabella of Augusta.’
Matteo’s heart stopped at the herald’s words, and he ceased caring about what Gabe knew or didn’t know. Instead, he turned to face the doorway full on, and tried to remember how to breathe as Isabella walked through it.
She’s here. She’s really here.
He’d honestly thought he might never be in the same room as her again, and now here she was.
Her ball gown, a deep midnight blue, sparkled under the lights of the ballroom, caressing her curves as he wanted to do. Her dark curls were piled on the top of her head, the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders bare except for the glint of sapphires, and her lips red and kissable.
She looked every inch the Princess, and Matteo wanted her so much he could hardly breathe.
As he watched she surveyed the room, chin held high and her gaze cool and assessing. Her manner was as many light years away from the relaxing, laughing, smiling, touching Isabella he’d spent the week with as her ball gown was from the light sundresses she’d worn there.
Then her gaze landed on him, and he saw the Isabella he’d fallen for in Switzerland behind all of her jewels and her title.
If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. But her gaze turned warmer, and he felt his body respond to her smile the way it always did.
Then her brother motioned to her, and she turned away to follow him as he toured the room, being introduced to the rich and charitable gathered in Rome for the occasion.
Matteo knew he should be circulating too, having the sort of conversations that led to donations, or someone offering him the opportunity to go and risk his neck to raise money for causes that mattered to him. But it was hard to concentrate on anything except the Princess in the room. Gabe, obviously aware of his distraction, covered for him in most of their conversations, and Matteo made a mental note to thank him later, when he wasn’t so distracted.
Eventually, though, the Crown Prince had been introduced to and conversed with all the people who actually mattered in the ballroom and, as the orchestra struck up again after a break in the entertainment, and people began to flood back onto the dance floor, Leo and Isabella finally reached Matteo and Gabe.
‘Your Royal Highnesses,’ their guide said, ‘may I introduce Mr Matteo Rossi, the current world champion racing driver, and his team manager, Mr Gabriel Esposito.’
The Crown Prince probably said something, but whatever it was Matteo didn’t hear it. Not when he was taking Isabella’s hand in his and lifting it to his lips, kissing it and wishing he could hold on for ever.
Never mind cliff diving, bungee jumping or jungle trekking. Seeing Isabella again made him feel more whole than any of those risky adventures ever had.
Gabe, as so many times before, was his saviour. In seconds flat he’d diverted Isabella’s brother with a deep and meaningful conversation about something or other, guiding the Crown Prince’s attention away from his sister and the racing driver she had supposedly just met.
‘Do you dance, Mr Rossi?’ Isabella asked, her voice a touch more formal than he was used to. He’d never been Mr Rossi to her before.
‘I can try,’ he said honestly. Because while his mother might have instilled good manners in her boys, dance lessons hadn’t exactly been included.
Isabella flashed him a smile that made her look much more like the woman he knew and wanted. ‘Just follow my lead.’
‘Anywhere you want to go,’ he replied.
Because if it meant being with Isabella tonight, he’d follow her into hell.
Matteo might be fast on his feet when chasing her to the bedroom, but he was not a born dancer. Not that it mattered to Isabella, since dancing together was nothing more than an excuse to get him alone—and lead him away from Leo.
Oh, and maybe an excuse to have him hold her again. She definitely wasn’t overlooking the benefits of that.
He knew where to put his hands, at least, and Isabella managed to half dance, half d
rag him across the dance floor, towards the balcony she’d spotted on an earlier tour of the room. If she was lucky, it would be empty—but even if not, it would still be dark and more private than a crowded ballroom with all eyes on her. And besides, they’d always had good luck with balconies.
‘I didn’t expect to see you again,’ Matteo murmured as they attempted a sort of waltz. She half expected him to add ‘so soon’, but he didn’t, and it made his words sit all the heavier in her heart. He hadn’t expected to see her at all. He’d expected that they’d both go their separate ways and that would be it.
Was that what he wanted? She’d never know if she didn’t ask. And she had to know, before she told him about the apparent consequences of their week together.
‘Disappointed?’ she asked, as lightly as she could.
‘Amazed. And thrilled.’ His hand at her waist gripped her tighter. ‘And a little hopeful.’
That made her smile—even though she wasn’t sure how his mood might change when she told him why she was here.
‘I was surprised to find it so easy to see you,’ she admitted. ‘When I found out Leo was coming to Rome, I tagged along in the hope of finding you. But I hardly expected you to show up at an event on my first night in town.’
‘Fate, perhaps,’ Matteo said. ‘Or luck. Or maybe M had it right with that soulmates thing...’
‘You think we’ll keep being drawn together for ever, now we’ve met?’ They’d reached the balcony, at last, and stopped dancing. Isabella raised an eyebrow as she waited for his answer.
In a moment, she’d open the door and lead him outside and tell him that she might be pregnant. For these last few seconds, she just wanted to enjoy being the way they’d been together in Lake Geneva.
‘I think I wouldn’t complain if we were.’
‘Good answer.’ Because there was a solid chance they were bound together for life, now, by a small cluster of cells growing inside her womb.
Moving out of his arms, she reached for the door handle to the balcony and pushed it open. She glanced around the ballroom, ascertaining that Leo was still fully occupied in conversation with Matteo’s manager, and a few other guests who had joined them, and was unlikely to notice her absence for a while.
‘Come on,’ she said, dragging him with her into the cooler evening air of the balcony. He followed easily, shutting the door silently behind them.
They were lucky; the balcony was deserted. Isabella let out a long, relieved breath, as she moved away from the ballroom and to the stone and metal barrier at the edge of the balcony.
Matteo moved behind her, his whole body pressed up against hers as they looked out over the city below them—ancient and modern by turn, lit up by the moon and the yellow streetlights as the summer evening passed into darkness. She could see the curve of the Coliseum in the distance, the remains of Trajan’s market beyond. Traffic and chatter and laughter hung in the air; the city was very much still awake, despite the hour.
It was late. She’d been travelling all day, then rushed to prepare for the ball that night, and then she’d been introduced to so many people her head was spinning with names and information, not to mention the worries she’d brought with her. She was exhausted.
But when she stood with Matteo at her back, when she felt his warmth through her ball gown, his kiss against the bare skin of her neck, above her mother’s sapphire necklace...all of that faded away.
She forgot about Leo, inside, probably wondering where she was. She pushed out of her mind the reason she’d come to Rome. And instead, she relaxed against her lover, and let him carry the weight of all her thoughts for a while.
Matteo, for his part, seemed content to stand in silence with her, just enjoying their closeness. Every few moments he’d press a kiss to her hair, her throat, even the swell of her breast over her ball gown. But that was enough.
Until, apparently, it wasn’t.
‘Isabella,’ he murmured against her ear. ‘Why did you come to Rome?’
Because I might be pregnant.
The truth, but not all of it. There was another truth she wanted him to know, too. So she gave him that, instead.
‘Because I missed you.’
Matteo spun her round, pulling her tight against his chest as he kissed her soundly.
‘You missed me too?’ She laughed as he finally broke the kiss.
‘More than I like to admit.’ The truth of it was there in his eyes as she met his gaze.
She needed to tell him. And she would.
Just not yet.
Was it so wrong to want to enjoy this reunion just a little longer? To recapture everything she’d loved about being with him in Switzerland, before their situation got a lot more complicated?
‘I dreamed about you,’ she murmured, and watched his green eyes darken.
‘Yeah? What did you dream?’ His voice was gravelly and low, and it made her ache for him to touch her more.
‘I dreamt of your hands on me.’ At her words, Matteo slid his hands up from her waist, up to her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples through the thick fabric of her ball gown.
It wasn’t enough; the fabric was too thick, she couldn’t get the touch she needed. She whimpered her need to him, and it seemed Matteo understood. Without warning, he tugged it down just a couple of centimetres. Just enough to release her aching nipples. This time, when he brushed his thumbs across them, she moaned.
God, she hoped the music inside the ballroom was loud enough that no one heard her and came out to investigate.
‘What else did you dream of?’ Matteo’s voice was rough with need, and Isabella thought longingly of the balcony at the villa in Lake Geneva, and how it conveniently led right to their bedrooms.
‘Your mouth.’ The words came out as a gasp, and Matteo flashed her a wicked smile before dipping his head lower.
His lips wrapped around first one nipple, then the other, giving each enough attention to make her squirm in his embrace.
‘Anything else?’ he asked, against her skin.
Time for some payback. Her hand snuck down to the front of his tuxedo trousers and pressed against the hardness she found there. ‘I definitely dreamt about this, too. Inside me.’
Now it was Matteo’s turn to let out a groan. ‘Trust me, if I thought I could get away with making love to a princess here on a balcony, with the whole of Rome watching, I would.’
‘Too much risk even for you, huh?’ Isabella’s smile faltered as she remembered what other risks they’d taken.
‘Maybe I’m just worried I couldn’t make it good enough for you, up here,’ Matteo countered.
‘I doubt that. You managed fine on the balcony in Lake Geneva.’
‘True.’ Matteo’s smile turned wicked. ‘Want to find out if I still have the magic touch?’
God, she did. So much.
But her real reasons for being in Rome were too heavy in her mind—not to mention the risk of Leo coming out here to find her. That would be the end of her royal reputation for good.
She stepped away, tugging her dress back into position, as Matteo watched her, his eyes suddenly wary. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from him any longer.
‘Isabella, I’m going to ask you again. Why did you come to Rome?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MATTEO WASN’T ONE hundred per cent sure what the feeling thrumming through his body was, but he suspected it might be dread. Isabella bit down on her lower lip as she looked up at him, her warm brown eyes wide and guileless.
‘I think I might be pregnant.’
All the dread that was bubbling through him gathered in his stomach, sinking it like a stone.
Pregnant. She might be pregnant. With his baby.
That last night. The broken condom. The risk that was so much greater than all the others he’d taken
before.
Seeing Isabella again here in Rome...for a moment, he’d let himself get carried away, as he’d been able to do in Switzerland when it was just the two of them. For all of his protestations, he probably would have made love to her right there on the balcony if she’d let him.
She was a risk on a different level from any skydive or impossible climb. The Crown Prince could probably get him arrested, and if someone down below had spotted them and the Rome polizia were called, he’d definitely have been spending the night in the cells.
And yet she was a risk he couldn’t resist. Not for the adrenaline, like all the others. Just for her.
He’d made a lifestyle of outrunning risk, of beating all the odds, every time.
But this time, it looked as if it had caught up with him.
‘We need to get you back in there before you’re missed.’ He brushed down the back of her ball gown and hoped that no one would notice any specks of balcony dirt in amongst the embroidery and the sparkly bits. Her lipstick was mostly gone, but hopefully she could replace that. And he’d managed not to muss up her hair too much.
‘Matteo, we need to talk about this.’
‘I know! I know. And I want to. Just...’ The door to the balcony opened for a brief moment, a laughing couple audible in the gap, until they obviously realised the space was occupied and closed the door again to seek another spot for privacy. ‘Not here,’ Matteo finished, redundantly.
‘Okay.’ She didn’t look happy about it, but at least she seemed to understand.
He hoped so. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to discuss the situation. He just needed to get his head around it a bit first.
Having a baby definitely wasn’t on his list of adventures. But it seemed that someone else was writing his bucket list, once again.
‘I wish we had more time,’ he said. ‘How long are you in Rome for?’
‘Another few days. Come and find me at my hotel tomorrow?’ she suggested. ‘You can show me the sights of Rome. And we can talk.’
She wanted to escape her security and her brother in a strange city, with him? He’d taught her the fun of taking risks well, it seemed.
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