Modern Romance April 2020 Books 5-8

Violet ground her teeth and breathed through her irritation as a waiter hurried towards them. ‘None of the above. If you must know, I was thinking that six bodyguards seem a little…excessive, don’t you think?’

‘Protocol dictates it needs to be this way. And I’d rather not incur my mother’s wrath by going against her wishes,’ he added with a wry twist of his lips.

Queen Isadora was a formidable woman. Even though she and her mother were friends, Violet had met the Queen only twice in her life. Both times she’d been awed by the woman’s utter poise and the shrewd intelligence that shone from grey eyes she’d passed to her sons, along with her strength and resilience.

‘Does their presence ever get overwhelming?’

He cracked open a bottle of iced water and poured her a glass before filling his own. ‘That’s like asking if breathing is tedious. It is what it is.’

Her fingers curled around the chilled glass. ‘Would you change it if you could?’

Despite the shades concealing his eyes, she felt his probing gaze. ‘Why would I want to change a status only a fraction of people ever get to experience? I’m deemed one of the luckiest men in the world to be surrounded by yes men and women all too eager to obey my every command,’ he stated with a thick layer of cynicism.

‘And yet your tone suggests otherwise,’ she replied.

For a fraction of a moment he seemed startled by the observation. As if he’d let something slip he hadn’t intended to. Then his face resumed its stoic mask. ‘I was taught not only to appreciate the advantages of my status but also to help preserve it. And to deal effectively with those parasites who would attempt to leech their way into riches on my family’s coattails.’

It didn’t take a genius to know she’d been lumped in with that deplorable crowd. ‘But you don’t mind using those yes men and women to accomplish your goals?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Are we being specific here, Violet? Are you asking me if I take advantage of my status?’

The man-eating eyes of that fundraising socialite flashed to mind and she tried to curb the curious sting in her chest. ‘Do you?’

‘I earn my dues in business. And in pleasure. No one has left my presence dissatisfied. Unless they absolutely deserved it, of course.’

The urge to pluck the sunglasses off his face so she could read his expression warred with the very real need to deny that they were speaking about the same thing—the night of her eighteenth birthday. Had she deserved to be left dissatisfied like that?

And why was he referring to it now?

The waiter’s arrival with platters of food put paid to the dangerous train of thought she seemed to stray into with maddening frequency.

‘Are you done?’ He nodded at her plate twenty minutes later, a frown in his voice.

She looked down at her plate. The food had been tasty so she attributed her elusive appetite to Zak’s presence more than anything else. ‘Turns out I’m not very hungry.’

His lips firmed but he rose without saying a word.

Back in the SUV, Zak Montegova handled the vehicle with effortless grace, his body packed with latent power that repeatedly drove the very air from her lungs each time she glanced his way. Bouncing over potholes and being jostled about, it was difficult not to be aware of her own body and its close proximity to Zak’s.

So she was relieved to arrive two long hours later, to breathe the fresh, clean air of Lake Ngoro, the mostly flat green landscape where Zak had sited the Trust’s eco-lodges.

Events had proceeded at breakneck pace after the fundraiser. As she’d predicted, donations had flooded in from the great and good, easily ensuring that they could fund another five projects within the year.

And Zak’s confirmation on Monday that the rains were indeed expected in a few weeks sparked an urgency for the trip. Violet had read through hundreds of résumés, sat in on in-person and video conference interviews, and grilled each volunteer until she was certain the sixty-five they’d chosen would be up to the daunting task of constructing the eco-lodges in time.

As she looked around now, she was gratified to see that the local construction crew who’d already been on site for two weeks were already at the final stages of laying the foundations.

A man broke away from a group of workers hammering a sign board into the ground and hurried towards them. His dark bronze skin, curly mahogany hair and light eyes indicated a mixed heritage. Despite the sweat pouring down his face and sticking to his tie-dyed T-shirt, his grin was infectious and as open as his outstretched hand.

‘Hey, there. I’m Peter Awadhi, foreman slash friendly face slash official representative of the Tourist Board. We’ve spoken a few times on the phone but let me formally welcome you to Tanzania…um… Prince…er… Your Highness.’

Violet hid a smile as he stumbled over Zak’s title.

Zak shook his hand. ‘Zak is fine,’ he offered, although he didn’t return the man’s smile.

Peter nodded, then glanced at her.

She held out her hand. ‘I’m Violet Barringhall. Special advisor, volunteer co-ordinator and general dogsbody.’

‘Ah, you’re the new one in charge of the volunteers? Sweet. I have a few requests to swing by you later when you’ve had a chance to settle in.’

‘Of course. That’s what I’m here for.’

His grin widened and Zak’s face soured further. ‘Are our tents ready?’ Zak asked.

Peter released her hand, looked over towards the SUVs and shouted instructions in Kiswahili at the group erecting the sign. ‘They are. I’ll have your luggage taken to your assigned tents when you’re ready.’

‘We will. The sample lodge is ready to view?’ Zak asked.

Peter nodded. ‘In the west compound, as you instructed.’

‘Take me there, I’d like to inspect it.’

‘Sure thing,’ Peter replied, in no way daunted by Zak’s hit-the-ground-running attitude.

‘When we’re done, I’d like a tour of the rest of the site, if that’s not too much trouble?’ Violet asked.

Zak frowned. ‘We just arrived. You should rest.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not tired and I’ve been cooped up in the car for hours. I’d like to stretch my legs and familiarise myself with the landscape in preparation for when the volunteers arrive tomorrow.’

His lips firmed and he clicked his fingers. One of his bodyguards rushed forward and a low exchange took place in Montegovan. Before Violet could blink, a wide-brimmed straw hat magically appeared. Zak held it out to her. ‘Heatstroke is a serious issue here. I’d hate to have to use the chopper on our very first day.’

She’d packed a hat for herself but with her luggage still stowed in the SUV, she had no choice but to accept Zak’s offering.

‘Thanks.’ She pulled on the hat, glad for the shade it offered.

They made their way from the parking area to the heart of the site, where the large building that would house the reception, restaurant and spa were located.

The construction crew were in the final stages of pouring concrete for the foundations. The handful of volunteers who’d been on site from the beginning would leave as soon as the new volunteers Violet had helped select arrived to start their work erecting the lodges.

They bypassed the central building and she spotted a sleek helicopter, the one Zak had referred to, on the far north side of the flat landscape. Its discreet little red and white cross caught her attention.

‘Why the medical chopper? I didn’t think it’d be needed at a project like this,’ she said to Peter.

He glanced briefly at Zak before he answered. ‘This isn’t strictly a medical helicopter but it’s useful since the nearest medical facility is thirty miles away. It’s purely a worst-case scenario option.’

Of course, with the VIP royal who happened to be second in line to the Montegovan throne on site, safeguarding him was paramount. Looking closer, Violet spotted the monogram of the Montegovan royal house on the tail fin of the aircraft, confirming her theory.

Zak sent her a sidelong glance. ‘Before you think the pampered Prince has a chopper on tap to deal with his splinters, you should know that the chef in charge of feeding the whole camp happens to be eight months pregnant. She refuses to leave before her rotation is up in two weeks. The helicopter is primarily for her in case she goes into early labour.’

Shame lanced her and she was glad for the wide brim of the hat hiding her chagrin. Zak’s mocking gaze returned to the path as they left the first row of lodges and headed west.

The eco-lodge came into view as they rounded an acacia tree.

The single storey building was functional, compact but beautiful, designed for a small family. It blended into the landscape and had a simple wraparound veranda at the front to make the most of west-facing sunlight.

Zak stepped onto the veranda and opened the front door.

The functional theme was echoed inside with an open-plan living room and kitchen, and two small bedrooms tucked into the back of the house. But it was the hidden extras that Violet was interested in.

‘Bath water is recycled into sanitary plumbing?’ she asked.

Zak nodded. ‘And solar panels on the roof at the back provide energy. A central borehole has been dug ready to harvest natural artesian water and rain. There’s a large borehole for the whole village.’

According to the report she’d read back in New York, the eco-lodges had been a joint-design between Zak and Tanzanian architects to exact specifications, with as much locally sourced materials as possible, after which they were constructed and flat-packed in Montegova and shipped three weeks ago. It was clear this project was close to his heart as he inspected every corner of the dwelling, pointing out areas he wanted rechecked and improved in the yet-to-be-built units.

Peter answered every query, providing intelligent solutions when Zak demanded them. Before they left the sample house, it was clear why he’d been chosen as foreman.

Thinking she would be left alone with Peter to conduct her tour, she inhaled sharply when Zak fell into step beside her. Violet refused to glance his way, a little resentful that he brimmed with vitality after endless hours in the vehicle, whereas she felt hot and sticky and wilted.

They were circling back to the heart of the site when a volunteer arrived with a query for Peter. He made his excuses and left, leaving her alone with Zak.

‘First impressions?’ Zak asked.

She was impressed. She couldn’t deny it, so she didn’t. ‘It’s exceptional.’

Zak nodded. ‘There will also be a Montegovan specialist on site for the first three months to train homeowners on how to fix basic things should they go wrong.’

There was a pulse of pride in his voice that threatened to destabilise the picture she’d drawn of him. Threatened to soften a place inside her she needed to keep under tight guard. Lofty thoughts of the charming Prince saving the less privileged belonged in fairy tales.

‘Should I take that frown to mean you don’t approve?’

She shook her head. ‘I approve of all this. But I’m wondering about you,’ she blurted. ‘You have thousands at your command to do all of this. Why are you here?’

He’d taken off his shades when they’d entered the lodge and now speared her with the full force of his grey eyes. ‘You want to know why I’m supervising a project that bears my name?’ he asked, his tone bone-dry.

‘Don’t you worry that people will wonder what a Harvard-educated Mediterranean prince needs to prove by digging around in the dirt? That this is really some PR stunt? Like you said, it wouldn’t be the first time a privileged royal did this sort of thing in the hope of gaining points with the media.’

His shrug was chock-full of dismissive arrogance. ‘I’m in the unique position of not having to impress anyone or caring what anyone thinks.’

Because he had the advantage of status, wealth and drop-dead gorgeous good looks?

‘Not even that you want to make a difference?’ she pressed, a little unsure why she wanted to probe so deeply.

‘The results of my work speak for themselves.’

She couldn’t deny that. Beyond his military and academic accolades, Zak Montegova had made a name for himself with his family trust. Had rivalled and in some ways elevated his family name more than his semi-reclusive brother had.

But then Remi Montegova’s loss of his fiancée had resulted in his withdrawal from the social scene and the world in general, leaving his mother and brother to become the face of the royal house.

Had that put extra pressure on Zak? Was that why he held himself so stoically? Or was that ingrained in him for another reason? Realising she was back to dwelling much too long on the enigmatic man and not enough on her professional role, Violet turned away.

Only to have her elbow snagged in a firm hold. ‘The bush might look harmless but be careful about wandering too close to it. Stick to the designated paths. You don’t know what’s lurking in there.’

Right at that moment she was more worried about the heat singeing her whole being from his touch than bugs or snakes. ‘If I spend all my time worrying about what will jump out at me from the bushes, I’ll never enjoy my surroundings.’

Peter heard her response as he re-joined them and nodded his approval. ‘That’s the spirit.’

Zak sent him a chilled glance that had the man’s smile evaporating. Muttering an excuse about checking on their luggage, Peter left again.

‘You’re not here to enjoy yourself. You’re here to work. Taking unnecessary precautions could end up inconveniencing others,’ Zak declared.

He was right. And yet his retort stung deep. ‘That’s the difference between us, Your Highness. I give myself permission to enjoy my work. And by the way, I hadn’t forgotten why I was here but, thanks, I’ll bear your concern in mind.’

‘You’ll do more than that. I can’t afford to have my schedule disrupted because of carelessness.’

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘I’ve just got here. I haven’t had time to be careless!’

His gaze flicked pointedly to the hat on her head. ‘Haven’t you?’

She snatched it off and held it out to him. ‘I’m not as fragile as you’d like to think I am. Besides, the worst of the heat is over.’

He didn’t reclaim the hat. Instead, he conducted a slow scrutiny of her body.

By the time his gaze returned to her face, she was hot and tingly all over, and it had nothing to do with the blaze of the late afternoon sun or the trail of sticky sweat meandering its way down her spine.

‘When was the last time you applied sunscreen?’ he rasped, his voice a shade deeper.

She couldn’t remember. ‘I’m not doing this with you. I’m a grown woman capable of taking care of myself. Find someone else to snarl at.’

They’d circled back to where they’d left the vehicles and Violet saw with relief that their luggage was being unloaded. She seized the opportunity to wrest herself away from Zak’s all-encompassing, disturbing presence. ‘I’m going to unpack. If we don’t have anything else to discuss, I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘You’ll see me in an hour and a half, when we meet for dinner to go over the schedule for tomorrow,’ he said silkily, but with that stamp of authority that said he expected his command to be obeyed.

Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Dark grey eyes regarded her steadily with a hint of challenge.

Violet resisted the urge to grind her teeth, reminding herself for the umpteenth time that he was her boss. He was calling the shots. For the next few months he virtually held her professional life in his hands.

Despite repeating all of that to herself, her temper still simmered by the time she reached the area where the tents had been erected on the east side of the site. She spotted Zak’s immediately since it was quite impossible to miss. It was the largest structure, set away from the rest of the tents on its own little hill. Plus the presence of two bodyguards guarding the entrance gave it away.

‘Miss?’ The volunteer who’d been escorting her had stopped several feet from her, drawing her attention from Zak’s imposing tent. ‘Your tent is this way.’ He indicated the path that went past the row of empty tents set a short distance away.

Frowning, she followed, her breath growing shorter the closer they got to Zak’s tent. Surely he wasn’t expecting her to share a tent with him?

‘I thought I’d be using one of these smaller tents,’ she said, aware her voice had grown husky and uneven. Hell, even a touch agitated. All at the thought of sharing a tent with Zak?

Yes.

No matter how much she tried to dice it, she recognised that exposure to him would fray what composure she’d managed to secure around him.

‘You are,’ the volunteer said, pointing to a medium sized tent tucked behind Zak’s and away from the smaller ones down the hill. ‘Well, it’s kind of small,’ he amended at her frown. ‘But you’re sharing Prince Zak’s shower, not sharing with everyone else down the hill, so that’s a bonus, right?’

Violet refused to examine the twinge that lanced her midriff at the realisation that she wasn’t sharing a tent with Zak. Part disappointment, part relief? She pushed the emotion aside and thanked the man, who propped her large backpack in front of the tent and left.

She dragged her luggage inside and looked around. A small desk and chair had been set up on one side, with a carafe of water and glasses on a tray. The single bed on the other side held a surprisingly comfortable mattress and beside it was a nightstand on which sat a small but powerful lamp. At the foot of the bed was a shelved cabinet and a wash basin.

Simple. Rustic. A world removed from the opulent Park Avenue offices of the Royal House of Montegova Trust and the glitz and glamour of the fundraising ballroom in New York. And even the country manor house her mother had moved heaven and earth to cling to despite their questionable financial circumstances.

Yet Violet felt a sense of rightness and homecoming as she set her case down to unpack. Done minutes later, she set up her laptop on the desk, checked her emails—thanks to the newly installed Wi-Fi system—and ensured there were no last-minute emergencies to deal with before re-checking the volunteer roster.

Then, because her roiling emotions needed sorting through, she lay down on the bed, her gaze fixed on the apex of the tent.

Zak Montegova was here and was staying for the duration of the project. She needed to get used to seeing him every day. As long as she maintained professional distance, she had nothing to worry about.

A few short weeks. That was all she needed to endure Zak’s presence…

Violet jerked awake, the realisation that she’d fallen asleep filling her with mild horror. A quick check on her phone showed she was ten minutes from being late to dinner. So much for her lofty assertion that she wasn’t tired.

She flew to the cabinet holding her clothes, selected a white T-shirt, khaki shorts and brown espadrilles. Washing as best she could in the basin, she changed her clothes, brushed and tied back her hair.

She stepped out of her tent and stumbled to a halt. ‘Oh, my God,’ she murmured, awed by the sight before her. The cloud was awash with bursts of orange, greys and indigos. The hues were so powerful and spectacular she lost the ability to breathe as she stared at the stunning sunset. Thoughts of being late melted away, the sheer beauty of her surroundings holding her firmly in place.

‘Is this your first?’ a deep voice asked.

She hadn’t heard Zak approach. Her stomach dipped alarmingly at the hushed gruffness in his tone. It was almost as if he didn’t want to ruin the moment with their earlier animosity. She didn’t want to look at him, fearing he would only add to the dramatic enchantment around her. But the sheer magnetism of the man drew her attention from the magnificent sky and sunset blazing over the lake, and she glanced at him to find his stormy gaze wholly fixed on her.

Heart thumping, she tried to recall what he’d asked her. ‘My first?’

He turned away, presenting her with his haughty and perfect profile. ‘African sunset.’

‘I… Yes,’ she whispered, a little afraid that speaking too loudly would make the glorious vision disappear.

The smallest hint of a smile tilted his lips, but it disappeared far too soon. ‘It has the ability to evoke weak-kneed reactions.’

She stemmed the wild urge to ask him about his first. Had he been alone? If not, with whom? It was none of her business. So why the next words tripped from her lips, she would never know. ‘I find it hard to believe you’re capable of getting weak-kneed about anything.’

Did he tense just then? Thinking it wasn’t wise to investigate too closely, and dying for another hit of magnificence, she turned back to the view.

But then he replied, ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were feeling me out, Violet. Are you?’

She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words stuck in her throat. Did she want a demonstration of Zak’s passion? Did she want to hear that deep voice murmur her name in that lightly accented timbre that slipped into his speech every now and then? Heat rushed through her, concentrating in her breasts and between her thighs as the power of his scrutiny singed her. Layer upon layer of sensation swelled, attempting to bury every precaution she’d recited to herself in the tent before sleep had overtaken her.

‘Because if you truly are, you only need to say the word,’ he added silkily.

Then she knew he was toying with her. Again.

It was there in the smoky mockery lurking in his eyes. There in the enthralling loose-limbed stance with in he held himself. But there was something else. Something ferocious that made her heart pound. That same intensity she’d spotted right before the ball, had sworn to stay away from because it was too dangerous but was now tempting her to peer into, brush her fingers against to test its true risk.

He shifted, turned to fully face her, as if offering her the very thing she needed to resist.

Her throat dried as the power of his masculinity threatened to knock her over. ‘I don’t need a demonstration, thanks,’ she blurted, almost too afraid of the tingling in her body as his gaze lanced over her. ‘I’ll let you practise your dubious skills on some other unsuspecting female.’

She stepped away from him but not before she heard his low laughter.

Far from thinking he’d received the message, Zak fell into step beside her, his long-limbed stride shortening to match hers. Violet clenched her fists, freshly helpless against what the scent of rugged man and aftershave did to her insides.

‘I don’t dally with unsuspecting females, cara. Every woman who’s graced my bed knows exactly what they’re getting.’

She stopped abruptly, the images he once again evoked wreaking havoc of the jealous, unpleasant kind with her equilibrium. ‘You shouldn’t take everything I say as a challenge.’

‘Ah, but then you have a unique way of saying things that makes me believe there’s more, always more you’re actually not quite saying,’ he murmured, his gaze conducting that skin-tingling scrutiny of her face that left her feeling exposed.

Sensually vulnerable.

‘How am I doing that, exactly?’

He stepped closer, filling every corner of her vision with his presence. ‘It’s your eyes, dolcella. You have the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen. And unfortunately for you, they’re in constant conflict with the words coming out of your mouth.’

His gaze dropped to her mouth and the rush intensified until her whole body was on fire. ‘You either have an overactive imagination or you insist on seeing things that are simply not there.’

‘Do I? I guess we’ll make the discovery as to whether I’m right or wrong together.’

‘We’ll do nothing of the sort. They only thing we’ll do together is—’

‘Go to dinner?’ he supplied, more with amusement than with his customary mockery.