by Kali Anthony
Barely. Hannah didn’t know if it felt any better, having told Alessio. It was a terrible admission, her failure to keep an eye on things.
Alessio’s jaw hardened. His mouth a tight, thin line.
‘Are the police involved? Surely by law, your uncle wasn’t allowed to do such a thing?’
She hated this. Hated that the people who should have been looking after her interests had let her down so badly. Whilst they hadn’t been her parents, they’d been her last link to one of them. But she’d learned a powerful lesson from the experience. All she really had was herself.
‘He used a few people’s money, and he shouldn’t have.’ He’d been so sure that everything would be okay, and that in the end she’d thank him for ignoring her wishes. The arrogance of it. ‘And yes, the police are involved. But that won’t get my funds back. Everything my parents left me, I lost.’
‘Ah, bella. It’s not your fault.’ Alessio stepped forward and bundled her in his arms. She rested her head on his chest as he held her tight. As if he were holding her together. And all of it was dangerous. They weren’t meant to share, not like this.
‘Would you have taken this commission if your uncle hadn’t done what he did?’
‘No.’ She pulled back. Shook her head, honesty all she had left. ‘You. Horse riding. The showjumping circuit. It brings back memories I’d do anything to avoid. But now I’m here, I’m glad I agreed.’
‘I’m...glad too.’
She noticed it, the slightest of hesitations in a man she suspected hesitated over nothing. He tightened his arms around her.
‘Do you trust me?’ he asked.
Hannah was lost in the deep, warm brown of his eyes. She didn’t know if she trusted anyone, and that caused her gut to clench like a hard fist inside. She had to remind herself what this truly was. It had an end date marching up faster and faster. She’d pack her bags, her art equipment and leave. Paint his portrait. Throw all her emotion into it, then set it free and let him go. Alessio would find and marry his perfect princess, and all would once again be right with the world.
‘With my body? I trust you implicitly.’
Alessio’s smile in answer to her comment was sultry and slow.
‘I’ll always look after you.’
That sounded as if this had a permanence to it, which she knew to be untrue. But then, words were easy. It was actions which were harder. And she knew he wouldn’t stop her winging away from here. He’d put her on the plane himself. But it was fine. She’d known the day her parents died that the picture of her own life would be different from what she’d imagined it would be as a child. In her wildest dreams, she’d never believed a fortnight like this could happen to her. And the memory of it would be enough. Would carry her through the years.
It would.
Enough of this introspective mood. The glorious sun rose in the sky, filling her with a lazy warmth. The tang of salt hung invigoratingly in the air. They had time and she’d take her fill of every second. She needed to lighten the mood, since it had become far too serious.
‘So, this is Stefano’s yacht. Don’t you have one of your own?’
‘Of course. Mine’s a modern yacht. Some might say...better,’ Alessio said with a smirk.
‘And I bet it has a crown embossed on the bow.’ She gave him a smile of her own. She liked him like this, the man relaxed, unlike the Prince he showed to the world every day.
He held out his arms. Even in casual clothes he had an intoxicating presence. As if he owned the world. ‘What’s being a prince if one doesn’t have the crown?’
‘Is your ego taking a bit of a battering that I might like Stefano’s better than yours?’
‘My ego remains intact, despite your best and most constant efforts.’ Those wide arms of his wrapped round her again. Pulled her close. Dropped his head to her ear. ‘Let me show you.’
His body pressed into hers, his arousal, bold and obvious, stoking the fire of her own. She flexed her hips against his hardness. Ran her hands down his back, relishing the strength of his muscles as they flexed under her fingers.
‘I think there are a few things I need to know whilst I’m here,’ she said.
‘Port is left. Starboard is right.’
‘Thank you, Your Highness.’ Hannah laughed. ‘No. Your talk of the rules before. Are there any I should know?’
Alessio looked up at the golden sky, brow furrowed as if in thought. ‘The first rule is that I’m always right.’
‘Oh, really? Any others?’
‘Hmm... The second...’ He tapped at his chin then looked down at her, the colour of his eyes swallowed by his pupils, the dawn painting him golden as well. ‘When we’re alone together you should always be naked. Clothes are a travesty on you.’
Heat rose to her cheeks. ‘And is that rule reciprocated?’
‘Ovviamente. Now we’re heading out on water, rule two is invoked. You’re wearing too many clothes.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ she asked as Alessio inched his fingers under her shirt, stroking the sensitive skin of her side. A shiver of goosebumps skittered down her arms. He began unbuttoning the soft cotton shirt she wore, his eyes glowing and intent. Always fierce. Always in a hurry, or at least where she was concerned. He dropped his head and began kissing her shoulder, light brushes that made her liquid in his arms.
‘I refer you to rule number one,’ he murmured, the warmth of his breath tickling her neck.
She laughed again, something so different about him here, out of the palace. As if he could become a man, rather than being a ruler of all he surveyed. She gave a little push on his chest and he let her go. She stood back. Shrugged her top from her shoulders, slowly exposing the exquisite floral bikini top she wore underneath from the clothes she’d been given. His gaze raked over her, jaw tight, arousal straining at his zipper.
‘Dio. Sei così bella.’
She didn’t know what that meant but it sounded like a worship, a benediction. Yet he stood there, fully clothed, simply watching her set the pace.
‘Where’s the reciprocation?’
The corner of his mouth curled into a heated smile.
‘Come here,’ he said, the voice all command that sent a shiver of longing through her. She loved this of him, the demanding, passionate man. All the while knowing that if she said no, if she took a step back, he’d wait for her.
‘Still rule number one?’
He raised an imperious eyebrow, but a smile teased his mouth. She walked forward into his embrace, his lips sinking onto her own. She never failed to be surprised at how such a seemingly hard man could be all softness when he held her. As if the fact he had a human side was their secret.
‘I’m not being a good host. It’s time I showed you the stateroom.’
Alessio swung her into his arms and strode down the deck like a man bent on completing a mission—that of making her cry his name to the room.
* * *
Alessio woke to the lull of slapping water on the side of the yacht. The gentle sway of the ocean. For the first time in an age, he was at some kind of peace. Sleepy, sated. Barely caring whether he moved all day. There was one reason for this newfound satisfaction—a person. He reached to the side of the bed for Hannah and brushed only the warmth of empty sheets. Not long gone, then. He lay for a moment, listening for her, but there was no sound, so he rolled over and sat up, scraping his hand through his hair.
She was curled on a sofa opposite the bed at the other side of the room. Feet tucked under her. Drawing on a sketch pad on her lap with a stick of charcoal.
‘You’re naked,’ he said. The sight of her perfect skin made the blood race down low. Would he ever get enough of her? He feared not.
She glanced up at him, the merest of smiles touching her well-kissed lips.
‘Rule number two, remember?’
&nbs
p; He lounged back on the bed. ‘And you did what I said. Rule number one. It’s a miracle.’
She snorted, such a cute sound, as she peered up at him again, then returned to the page before her. Sketching, rubbing at the paper with her fingers. ‘I think I liked you better when you were asleep.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ he said, his body heating each time her insightful gaze returned to him. Arousal, heavy and low, snaked through him again. This attraction, it overtook everything, an overwhelming need only Hannah could satisfy. ‘You like me very much when I’m awake.’
He didn’t hide how much she affected him. He’d not hold anything back from her. The freedom of such a short time frame meant he didn’t have to. Yet the realisation of how little time they had left stung like a forgotten wound exposed to seawater. A surprising and unwelcome jolt. He ignored it. There were better ways of using their day than musing over things like that. He patted the bed next to him. ‘Come here.’
‘Does your ego need stroking?’
An insistent pulse of desire kept beating its demanding tempo. ‘Something needs stroking.’
She didn’t even look up at him, her focus all on the page, a slight frown creasing her brow. ‘No. I haven’t been doing enough sketching. You keep distracting me.’
Hannah being more interested in what was on the piece of paper in front of her than in the real man put him in his place, firmly rooted in a world where he was not the most desirable, sought-after person. It made him feel normal, feel real.
A blessed relief.
‘Can I see what you’re doing?’
‘You get the final painting. Everything else is mine. Just lie back and enjoy it. Everyone needs to stop some time.’ She looked up at him, that frown still present, her face a study of intensity, making him believe she saw all of him. His sins, his flaws. There was no hiding them with her. And it made him curious.
‘What do you see when you look at me?’
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘I asked the question.’
She put down her charcoal. Placed her hand flat on the page in front of her so her drawing was hidden.
‘You like to think you begin and end as Prince of Lasserno. That there’s nothing else. But you’re more.’
Inside of him, something clenched. Almost like a warning, but she’d piqued his interest now.
‘Tell me.’
‘Someone who works hard. Too hard.’ A shaft of sunlight filtered through the cabin window, painting her pale skin in its warm glow. She looked a picture of perfection sitting there. Alessio didn’t want the moment to end. He shrugged.
‘It’s all part of the job description. My father didn’t work hard enough. Saw life as a prince for only what he could get from it. He almost drove Lasserno into ruin.’ A tightness rose inside again. Of things unfinished, of work yet to do. It was relentless, exhausting. Never-ending. A needling sensation interrupted the moment. He raised his left wrist, but his watch wasn’t there.
‘I’ve put it away for a few days. You need to relax. You’ll have plenty of time to save the country. Years of it, in fact.’
The certainty carried in her voice, as if there was no doubt. When, deep down, he doubted himself often. ‘Thank you for your confidence. What else do you see?’
She smiled again, a beautiful thing which lit up the room better than the late-morning light.
‘Fishing for compliments?’
‘Wanting to know how well you know your subject.’
She brought her hand to her mouth. Tapped her lips with her index finger.
‘You appear cold, aloof, but you’re not. That’s the Prince of Lasserno’s costume, what you allow the world to see, but it’s not real. You care, deeply, for your country and your people, but you refuse to show it to anyone. As if you’re not the man, but you are the crown. Except there’s a human heart beating in your chest. But some days, I think you wish there wasn’t. Because being human is messy and ugly and imperfect. It’s about desire and need and feelings, and that’s not who you want to be. The trouble is, that’s exactly who you are.’
Each word hit him like an arrow shot straight, finding its truest and most damaging place. She saw him too well, and her insights caused his heart to race, his chest to constrict.
Others only saw what they assumed was the truth. He could control the narrative with them. Like acting, putting on a show. Right now, Hannah was all risk. Huge reward, but the risk terrified him most of all. She gave him the tantalising glimpse of a life without meticulous attention to duty, and that was a terrible temptation.
‘I think that you’re worried if you show people the real you, they won’t love you. The thing is, they’d love you even more if you would be yourself. Because you’re a good man.’
He didn’t want to talk now, but he couldn’t move. It was as though he was pinned to the bed, frozen in place. He couldn’t take this attention on him. He didn’t know why he had asked the question of her, because he should have known she’d see things he hadn’t wanted others to see.
‘Do you want to know what I see in you?’ he asked, trying to deflect from himself because the spotlight burned too brightly when it focused on the truth.
‘Not really.’ She closed her notepad, sat up straighter. So perfect and relaxed in her nakedness.
‘Why is that, Hannah?’
She hid herself as well. They both wore costumes, even now pretending to be something they weren’t.
‘I’m not that interesting.’
‘I disagree. Rule number one, remember.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’
As he was a prince, people didn’t mock or tease him. Or joke with him much at all. Stefano was the only person who did, but he’d been a friend for years. Alessio found himself enjoying it from her. The irreverence. The freedom for them both to...be.
‘You talk about me hiding myself? You do it too. You’re a passionate woman when it comes to your art. But you deny that part of yourself, forgetting what you’re like in my arms. In bed.’
‘And what about you?’ Hannah said. ‘Wanting to marry someone you barely know and don’t love. Better not to marry at all.’
He didn’t want to think of marriage, matchmakers, or perfect princesses right now, but they were the reality he couldn’t escape. A shortlist of candidates was on his desk, whom he would meet...when Hannah left.
‘I have a dynasty to preserve.’
‘What if your precious yet-to-be-found princess falls in love with you and you don’t love her? Where will you be then? You’re condemning someone to a life that’s unfair.’
‘She’ll know what to expect.’
‘Or are you afraid of forming a real attachment? That’s when you have most to lose.’
Her words hit sharp and true. He couldn’t let them go unanswered. He sat up, the sheet falling from his torso. Hannah’s cheeks pinked, but she didn’t look away.
‘Says the woman who claims she’s not interested in love. That her art is enough.’
‘At least I’m not trying to draw anyone else into it. This is my life. I’ll live it how I see fit.’
She stood and sauntered to him, beautifully naked, the rolling sway of her hips and tight nipples, the slight flush on her chest were telling him what she had in mind. Distraction. And he didn’t care because her kind of distraction was the most delicious of all. Let them both drown in it, forgetting everything else.
‘You’re so perfect in everything you do. Even now, lying in this bed. As if you’re artfully displayed. It makes me wonder if you know how to be anything less. Makes me want to mess you up.’
‘I invite you to try.’
There was something about her that warned of danger. Like an impending storm, dark and brooding, hovering on the horizon. The bed dipped as she sat on the edge close to him, her finger
s blackened from the charcoal she’d smudged across her page. Hannah reached out with one hand to his chest and smeared her fingers across his flesh, leaving dark stripes there. The smile on her face was pure wickedness. ‘How does that feel, Your Highness?’
‘Like you’re not trying hard enough.’
Her pupils flared as she rose to his challenge and climbed over him, straddling his body. Rocking on the hardness between his thighs. He sat forward to wrap his arms around her but she planted her hands flat on his chest and pushed. He fell back, enjoying her new assertion far too much. Hannah took his face in her hands, rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks. He didn’t need to see in the mirror to know that she was marking him with the charcoal on her fingers. As if she were claiming ownership. His blood rang in a furious roar as he enjoyed her possession, as if with each stroke she were writing mine on his skin. She leaned forward, her lips touching his. Her mouth open, lush. Claiming him. He let her. In this fantasy, for these few days they could be anything they desired. He took what she gave, his hands at her hips as she moved against him. The sheet between them an interruption, a distraction, but necessary. How he wanted to slide into her with no protection, forget they were the Prince and his artist.
She broke the kiss and he almost thrust his hands into her hair and dragged her to him once more, but the way she leaned back with a subtle smile on her lips suggested she was admiring her handiwork.
‘Condom,’ she said, as she cupped his jaw and traced her thumb almost lovingly in another stripe along his cheek.
He didn’t need to be asked twice, reaching to the bedside table where he’d left a number rather than fumble for a packet and interrupt these fleeting moments. Hannah sat back as he grabbed a sliver of foil, tore it open.
‘You’re going to have to move,’ he said. His hands trembled with the desire to be inside her. She shifted back as he shoved down the sheet and rolled the protection in place. All the while she watched him, her fascination with his body addictive, her attention on him complete.
