by Kali Anthony
The master of ceremonies announced something to the assembled guests she couldn’t understand. The noise of chairs scraping back interrupted the murmurs from the room. A hush descended as everyone waited. Alessio’s shoulders rose then fell as if he took a deep breath, then with a straightening of his spine he stepped forward through the doorway as she and Stefano followed. Her eyes adjusted to the brighter lights of the room and she gasped at the sparkling chandeliers, towering floral decorations and gleaming silver candelabras adorning the opulent ballroom. About fifty people stood round tables scattered through the space and every face was turned to Alessio as he waited at the top of the stairs, allowing the assembled guests to take their fill of him, their Crown Prince, and his most honoured guest. It was a dizzying sensation to realise there were a hundred eyes on them as he made his way down the sweeping marble staircase into the room, a leader of his nation in all ways. Arresting and intoxicating.
As they walked through the room Hannah touched her necklace again, almost as a reflex. The curdle of something like fear slithered in her belly but the jewels reminded her that she had a place here tonight. They moved through tables to their seat and people stared and whispered as she passed. When they reached their table, Stefano pulled out her chair.
‘I’ll see you later, Hannah,’ he murmured. It was said quietly enough to seem private, loud enough to pique people’s interest. The game of deflection had begun. She merely smiled. Ignored everyone’s curious stares as she sat and accepted a glass of champagne from the waiter, thanking the man who poured it for her.
‘Ladies, gentlemen.’ The table descended into silence as Alessio spoke. ‘I’m pleased to introduce Signorina Hannah Barrington. My portrait artist, who has taken two weeks from her hectic schedule to be here before returning to England.’
It was a statement of intent. One she understood, but something about it left her feeling deflated, like a leftover balloon from a long-forgotten party. Alessio named the people at the table for her benefit. Counts, countesses, the Prime Minister and his wife. Lasserno’s aristocracy. The country’s Who’s Who.
A few people nodded with interest or stared as if in disbelief at the position she held, sitting to Alessio’s left. She could understand why. He was a man in his prime. Available, a prince. Who wouldn’t want to be her? They must know he was looking for a bride. Did they assume she was in the running? Her throat tightened and she took a sip of her champagne, the bright bubbles sparkling on her tongue and slipping too easily down her throat. Surely everyone here knew he was looking for a princess? And yet as she watched the other guests’ open looks of avarice, she realised this dinner held all the danger of picking her way through a room filled with broken glass in bare feet.
She steeled her spine. Whatever these people might think, they were all wrong and she’d show them. Alessio had to deal with this every day and Hannah couldn’t imagine how wearing it must be. She glanced at him now, making easy conversation with the Prime Minister.
‘How do you find His Highness’s hospitality?’ asked a man in a uniform festooned with medals. She didn’t like the supercilious way his brow rose when he spoke to her.
Still, her place at this table wasn’t to make trouble but to smooth it over. Hannah smiled. ‘His Highness is a gracious host, as one would expect.’
‘Are you spending much time in his presence?’ The corner of the man’s mouth turned up in a smirk. ‘For research purposes, of course.’
People near them began to watch the exchange, whilst Alessio seemed engrossed in his own conversation. Around the table the air vibrated with tension, a warning. This question was a kind of trap, but she wouldn’t fall into it, because no matter how strong and uncompromising he seemed, Hannah realised that Alessio needed shielding. All these people were vultures waiting for others to hunt down their prey and then pick over the carcass left.
She refused to be their victim.
‘He’s managed to fit me into his hectic schedule.’
The man’s smile in response appeared knowing, when he really had no clue. ‘I’m sure he has.’
Those words carried a weight and meaning everyone sitting at the table would understand. She pretended to be oblivious. To rise above it, since innocence was her weapon.
‘Enough to sketch and make the studies I need for the coronation portrait.’
‘You’re young to receive such an illustrious commission,’ said a countess wearing a shimmering gold dress of liquid satin and diamonds round her neck the size of pigeon eggs. ‘You must have quite prodigious...talents.’
Hannah swallowed. She couldn’t stop the fire igniting in her belly at these insinuations. She knew her worth, the work and the sacrifice she put into her art. Her achievements. She didn’t care what the guests here thought of her. Alessio was the one getting the portrait. She’d never paint any of these people, no matter how much they offered. Even if they begged, because she didn’t want to know them.
Not the way she was coming to know Alessio.
‘I’ll leave that judgement to others. My job’s to paint. To find the essence of a person.’
‘And have you found the essence of His Highness?’ Those words were delivered with a venomous smile. One which appeared friendly but carried a sting.
‘Not yet. But I’ve never painted a prince before.’
A few people murmured at her response, but she couldn’t understand what was being said. They seemed friendly enough, so she suspected it wasn’t a criticism. She hardly cared. They could think what they wanted. She knew the truth. Then next to her, Alessio straightened. She could almost feel the electric crackle of him from his seat.
‘I suggest, Contessa, that you do your research. Signorina Barrington has won some of the most prestigious portrait competitions in the world. She is the best. There is no one more qualified to paint my coronation portrait than her.’
His voice bristled with warning, sharp and cold. Now everyone at the table stared at them. Whilst his chill was meant to give a clear message, to her his voice was like being immersed in a warm bath. She basked in his defence, even though it would likely cost him. For a man whose private life was deliberately opaque, he’d allowed the door to crack open a chink, showing in the tiniest of ways that she mattered.
She couldn’t thank him in public, so she smiled benevolently as if praise like this were given to her every day. But, since they sat next to each other, she moved her thigh towards his until their knees touched. A tiny gesture to say thank you in a way she couldn’t immediately vocalise. Hannah applied the smallest amount of pressure, to let Alessio know her move wasn’t accidental. The fingers of his left hand flexed on the tablecloth and he pressed back. The thrill of that secret acknowledgement bubbled through her like the sparkle of champagne. They sat knee to knee, calf to calf, ankle to ankle, and even through the layers of her dress it was as if she could sense the heat burning between them.
The conversation changed after his intervention, the flow of it around the table broken by the royal toast. Hannah stood with everyone else and the sense of loss she suffered at the lack of that supportive touch seemed almost visceral, as if something magical had been broken. She watched Alessio, who managed to look utterly alone even when surrounded by this host of people. There was a blankness about him which showed that any emotion had been well and truly shuttered and locked down. She didn’t know how he managed to eat, other than out of politeness. She sampled the beautiful-looking food and, whilst delicious, it held no appeal. This crowd would likely poison your meal as anything else. It was almost a surprise that Alessio didn’t have an official food taster, they were all so toxic.
‘Have you ridden with His Highness?’ the Countess asked, after they’d resumed their seats. She was surprised the woman hadn’t accepted Alessio’s put-down, but she was young enough to be interested in him for herself and there was a determined gleam in her eye. ‘He’s known as a passiona
te horseman.’
She decided to tell the truth because enough people had seen her ride with Alessio to make a lie far worse.
‘Yes. Have you?’
Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she was aware as Alessio stiffened, so attuned to him now that she could sense the slow freeze again. He shifted as she pressed her leg to his once more. Letting him know she had this. That he’d protected her, but it was okay for him to accept her help too.
The Countess’s mouth thinned. If looks were daggers, Hannah would be properly skewered. ‘No, I have never been invited to ride by His Highness, but it would be my extreme pleasure to do so.’
Hannah raised an eyebrow in a way she hoped looked imperious. ‘Perhaps one day, if you’re a good enough rider, you’ll be lucky and get your chance.’
She didn’t think the woman had the care, intuition or skill to be allowed anywhere near Alessio’s beloved horses. Hannah only realised now the privilege she’d been afforded being allowed to ride Kestia whenever she wished.
The Countess turned her attention to Alessio. ‘Your Highness, it’s an uncommon honour you invited Signorina Barrington to sit at your table.’
He fixed the woman with a cold glare. ‘It’s you who should be honoured, to have such a prestigious artist in your company.’
‘The sad truth,’ Hannah said, no doubt breaking protocol with her interruption but not caring less, ‘is there was a terrible mix-up in the beginning. I was meant to sit with Stefano.’
She was coming to realise gossip was the currency of value fuelling these people, so she’d give them something to talk about. She glanced over to where Stefano sat at a distant table and gave a little wave. He raised his champagne flute and toasted her in response.
‘You were looking forward to sitting with His Highness’s private secretary?’
‘Oh, yes. Very much,’ Hannah said. ‘But there’s always tomorrow.’
This could have been a pleasant evening in a magnificent room, with exquisite food and wine. Her fantasy for just one night. She resented the people here intent on ruining it. Some of them were trying to goad Alessio’s responses, to play a game in which there could be no winners.
The thing was, they hadn’t counted on her.
Alessio adjusted the napkin on his lap. As he did so his hand brushed hers, feather-light. So fleeting it could have been a mistake, but she knew it hadn’t been. Her breathing hitched, a shiver of pleasure running through her, settling low and heavy.
Tonight, she and Alessio were a team. None of the people here could touch them. She ate some more food, sipped more champagne. All the time exquisitely aware of the man sitting next to her. And as their legs touched under the table once more, their secret, she prayed this dinner was over soon and that she’d done enough.
CHAPTER SIX
THE JOURNEY BACK to the palace had been in near silence. There was too much going through Alessio’s head for him to say anything at all. The sly comments, the innuendos, all directed at one woman.
A woman who’d seen fit to defend him in the face of obvious attacks.
‘Do you need to discuss this evening’s events?’ Stefano asked as they walked towards the royal suite. Hannah remained silent. Alessio wanted to know how she felt, given everything that had passed. ‘And would you like me to take Signorina Barrington on a very public sightseeing tour tomorrow? A quiet word in the right news organisation’s ear and—’
‘No, and no press.’
‘If we used them properly, it could be to your advantage. They fabricate news about you, since they get none. Why not feed the beast a different story?’
This old argument between them could wait for another day. He didn’t want Hannah used to deflect attention from his own errors. Inviting her into the hornet’s nest was his mistake. She’d done enough tonight by tolerating the dinner. For that alone he must thank her.
‘I need to place the necklace in the safe,’ he said. Hannah stood there with her head held high, looking more like royalty than he felt after tonight’s efforts. Lasserno’s aristocracy had not crowned themselves in glory.
Hannah reached behind her neck to undo the clasp and he shook his head.
‘You can remove it in my room,’ he said, then added to Stefano, ‘We can speak tomorrow if there’s a need.’
Stefano gave Hannah a lingering look, nodded, then left.
Alessio opened the door of his suite and walked inside with Hannah following. The burn in his gut overtook him now, raging close to the surface over the way she’d been treated. All the while his emotions mingled with something softer, more tempting. She’d defended him, worked to ensure there were no rumours about them. Pretended for him. That protectiveness was unfamiliar in his experience. Its allure potent. The memory of their knees pressing together, the hidden support...he couldn’t put it out of his mind. In his role as Prince of Lasserno he was tasked as protector of a nation. The weight of all decisions fell on his shoulders. Tonight, Hannah had relieved some of his burden and he could never thank her enough.
‘Would you like a drink?’ He rarely resorted to alcohol, avoiding any kind of excess, but he needed something to dull the immediacy of his anger.
She shook her head. Standing under the soft lights, glittering and perfect. As if this were her place. But it couldn’t be, no matter the temptation.
‘No, I think I’ve had more than enough wine. But feel free.’
He smiled at the audacity of her giving him permission in his own rooms. She was a constant challenge to his position, and he feared he was enjoying the challenge far too much.
‘I will.’ He poured a slug of amber fluid into a glass.
‘You are the Prince and all. You can do what you like.’
The weight of responsibility sometimes threatened to crush him, and yet he couldn’t yield to it. He took a swig of his drink, the burn of the spirit doing nothing to ease the emotions sliding through his veins. Anger, desire. A dangerous mix when coupled with a beautiful, uncompromising woman.
A woman who seemed to be shifting from foot to foot, as if she were in discomfort.
‘Are you all right?’
She winced. ‘Do you mind if I take off these heels? They’re like a torture device.’
‘Feel free.’ He lifted his glass to take another swig of Scotch but stopped as Hannah grabbed on to the corner of a chair, kicked off the heels and wiggled her toes in the carpet, closing her eyes and sighing as she did so. ‘Heaven.’
Alessio couldn’t tear his gaze from her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her dress. Red. He swallowed. Bright. Vibrant. Red. For some reason that bold colour was unlike one he thought she might wear. It surprised him. As if he were being allowed to glimpse some secret about her. He didn’t know why a need pounded through him now, his heart like an anvil being struck by the blacksmith’s hammer. They were only feet. But that intimacy again almost undid him.
‘I’m sorry,’ Alessio said.
She shrugged. ‘For formal occasions I know they’re expected. Beauty is pain and all that. I just don’t have any need to wear heels around the farm.’
‘Not about the shoes.’ Alessio couldn’t look at her right now. Instead he turned to the mirror and tugged his bow tie undone. Wrenched the top button of his shirt open, crushing the perfectly pressed cotton under his fingers. Even then his clothes choked him. ‘The people.’
She came into view, reflected behind him. Picked up a small porcelain figurine of a horse that decorated a side table, inspecting it, running her fingers over the smooth surface. What he wouldn’t give right now to have those fingers running over his skin instead. He took another sip of his drink. No good would come of those thoughts. His responsibility was to look after her as an employee, not dream of Hannah undressing him with her gentle, stroking fingers.
Yet it was this last thought he couldn’t get out of his head.<
br />
‘I’m used to the mean girls,’ she said. ‘You meet a few.’
Alessio wheeled around. She was precious. She shouldn’t have to deal with anyone cruel. ‘Where would you meet people like that? Your clients?’
‘No, my clients are nice...’ she skewered him with her insightful gaze and smiled sweetly ‘...in the main. I came across them at boarding school after my parents died. Girls could be cruel to an orphan like me.’
‘Oh, bella.’ Her eyes widened a fraction as the term of endearment slipped out unchecked. He started forward, wanting to comfort her, but that wasn’t his role. It never could be. Though the reasons for that seemed to be getting a little hazy. ‘Why were you at a boarding school?’
She walked to a portrait on the wall, another glowering ancestor, all a reminder of the job he had to do for Lasserno. He ensured they stared down on him from every private wall in the palace so he would never falter.
‘My aunt and uncle were my guardians. They didn’t have children of their own and said it would give me stability.’
‘Did it?’
‘No. It was awful. I didn’t...cope. So they brought me home and sent me to the local school. Not prestigious, but small and familiar.’
He could barely imagine the pain she had suffered, both parents lost. Being sent away from everything she’d known. The unfairness tore at him. At least when his mother had died he’d had some sympathetic courtiers, given his father was of no use.
