A Night Of Royal Consequences

Callie stared out of the window at a grey, dismal scene. Like the rented house where she’d grown up, the Browns’ opened out onto the street, but the people passing by outside had their shoulders hunched against the cold. The photo in the magazine promised something very different. Rather than traffic fumes and bed socks, there’d be sunshine and fruit trees. She glanced at the page again. It was like a window opening onto another world. The colours were extraordinary. The people in the shot might be models, but they surely couldn’t fake that happiness, or the sense of freedom on their faces.

‘Italy,’ Ma Brown commented, her lips pressing down as she thought about it. ‘You’ll need some new clothes for that. Don’t look so worried, our Callie. You won’t need to spend much. You can do very well on the high street.’

Rosie clearly had other ideas and frowned at her mother. ‘This is Callie’s chance to have something special,’ she whispered.

‘And she should,’ Pa Brown agreed, picking up on this. ‘Goodness knows, she’s gone without long enough.’

‘A mix, then,’ Ma Brown conceded. ‘High Street with designer flourishes.’ And with that healing remark the family was content.

‘Amalfi,’ Callie breathed as copying the idea in the magazine took shape in her mind. The thought of a short trip to Italy made her head reel with excitement. A change of scene was what she needed before she started the next phase of her life, and the win had made it possible.

‘All that wonderful sunshine and delicious food, not to mention the music,’ Rosie commented with her hand on her heart as she thought about it.

All that romance and the Italian men, Callie’s inner devil whispered seductively. She blanked out the voice. She had always been cautious when it came to romance. She’d had too many duties at home to be frivolous, and too many opportunities to witness first-hand how violent men could be.

‘Come on, our Callie. Where’s your sense of adventure?’ Ma Brown demanded as all the Browns murmured encouragement.

She was free to do as she liked, so why not don a glamorous dress and designer heels for once? A few days of being not Callie was more than tempting, it was a possibility now. Just this once, the good girl could unleash her fun side—if she could still find it.

CHAPTER TWO

HE NOTICED THE woman sitting at the bar right away. Even from behind she was attractive. It was something in the way she held herself, and her relaxed manner with his friend, Marco, the barman. He’d just ended a call with Max, and was in the worst of moods. Max had lost no time in Luca’s absence causing unrest in Fabrizio. Max had been a thorn in his side since they were boys. Thanks to his mischief, Luca should not be visiting his beautiful lemon groves on the Amalfi coast, but should return immediately to Fabrizio, but this was an annual pilgrimage to a place he loved amidst people he cared for, and nothing, not even Max, could distract him from that. Though on this occasion, he could only spare a couple of nights here.

The woman was a distraction. She was watching everyone come in through the mirrors behind the bar. Was she waiting for a lover? He felt a stab of jealousy and wondered why he cared when she could just as easily be waiting for a family member, or for a friend.

He’d dropped by the hotel to invite Marco to the annual celebrations at the start of the lemon-picking season. He and Marco had grown up together, as Marco’s father had worked for the late Prince. Standing at the end of the bar where he could talk discreetly to Marco when he was free, he saw the woman clearly for the first time. She was confident and perky, and obviously enjoying the chance to trial the Italian language. Laughter lit her face when she got something wrong and Marco corrected her.

Feeling mildly irritated by their obvious rapport, he returned to working her out. Her profile was exquisite, though she seemed unaware of this, just as she seemed unaware of the appeal of her slight, though voluptuous body. She was understated, unlike his usual, sophisticated type. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. Dressed impeccably, though plainly for this setting in one of the coast’s most famous hotels, as if she was playing a role, she was almost too perfect. Her red hair was lush and shiny, cut short for practicality, rather than fashion, he guessed. Her eyes were green and up-tilted, giving her a faintly exotic look. A light tan and freckles suggested she’d been here no more than a week and lived somewhere cooler.

This was a lot of thought to expend on a woman who seemed unaware of his interest. Or was she? His groin tightened when she turned to stare at him boldly and was in no hurry to look away.

Interesting.

‘Good evening.’ After politely acknowledging the woman, he gave Marco a look that left his friend in no doubt that Luca wished to remain incognito.

Sensing mischief afoot, Marco grinned. They exchanged the usual complicated handshake, while the woman looked on with interest. She was even more beautiful than he’d first thought. Her scent was intoxicating. Wildflowers. How appropriate, he thought as Marco left them to go and serve another customer. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

She levelled a stare on his face. ‘Do I know you?’

The bluntness of her question took him by surprise, as did her forthright tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marco lift a brow. His friend would call security if Luca gave the word, and the woman would be politely moved on. An almost imperceptible shake of Luca’s head knocked that idea out of court.

‘My name is Luca,’ he told her as he extended his hand in greeting.

She ignored his hand. Intelligent eyes, framed by long black eyelashes, viewed him with suspicion.

‘I don’t believe we’ve met,’ he pressed, waiting for her to volunteer her name. ‘I don’t bite,’ he added when she continued to withhold her hand.

‘But you’re very persistent,’ she said, making it clear there would be no physical contact between them.

Persistent? Outwardly, he remained deadpan. Inwardly, he cracked up. Women referred to his charm and thought him attentive. Clearly, this woman had other ideas. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Fizzy water, please,’ she replied.

Turning to Marco, he murmured, ‘Aqua frizzante per la signorina, e lo stesso per me, per favore.’

‘Sì, signor,’ Marco replied, serving up two sparkling waters.

Her gaze remained steady on his as she took her first sip. There wasn’t a hint of simpering or recognition in her eyes, just that desirable mouth smiling faintly. Even now she’d had time to think about it, he was a man in a bar and that was it. She had no idea who he was, and would trust him as far as a glass of water was concerned, but no further. If she was unaware that his face had been plastered all over the news lately, since he’d ascended the throne of Fabrizio, something big must have happened in her life.

So, beautiful mystery woman, he mused as she returned his interest coolly, who are you, and what are you doing in Amalfi?

* * *

Straightening the short silk skirt on her designer dress, Callie wished she had worn the Capri pants Rosie had insisted were essential to Callie’s Italian adventure instead. So chic, Rosie had said as Callie had turned full circle, wishing she could get away with a new pair of jeans and a top. The Capris were still in the wardrobe upstairs in the hotel, as she’d been unsure which shoes to wear with them.

At least Capris would have been decent. The dress was anything but. Far too short, it was enticing. She could only imagine what this incredible-looking man had thought when he’d first seen her perched at the bar. How could she convey the fact that she wasn’t here for that type of business, and that this was, in fact, a holiday? The thought of an Italian adventure had excited her, but she hadn’t envisaged such a dynamite opening scene. She fell well short compared to the other, more sophisticated women in the bar. There was barely enough fabric in her skirt to cover her fundamentals. She couldn’t move for fear of it riding up, and with her naked thigh so close to the man’s denim-clad muscles, that was a pressing concern.

‘You didn’t tell me your name.’

She turned to look at him as the dark velvet voice, with its seductive hint of an Italian accent, rolled over her. Strange how sound could send shivers spinning up and down her spine. Her chin felt as if it had half a universe to travel, as she moved from scrutinising his muscular thighs, to staring into a pair of mesmerising black eyes. Mesmerising and amused, she noticed now. He hadn’t missed her fascination with the area below his belt. Her cheeks burned as she volunteered with a direct stare into his eyes, ‘My name is Callista.’

His lips pressed down in the most attractive way, drawing her attention to the fact that his mouth was almost as expressive and beautiful as his eyes. ‘Greek for most beautiful,’ he remarked. ‘That explains everything.’

‘Really?’ She did her best to simper and then hardened her tone. ‘I’ve heard of people being born with silver spoons in their mouths, but yours must have been coated in sugar.’

He laughed, and then affected a wounded expression. ‘I’m crushed,’ he exclaimed, holding both hands to his powerful chest.

‘No, you’re not,’ she insisted good-humouredly, starting to like him more now he’d proved to have a sense of humour. ‘You’re the most together person I’ve ever met.’

He smiled. ‘So what is Callista the huntress doing on her own in a hotel bar?’

‘Not what you think,’ she flashed back.

‘What I think?’ he queried.

‘What are you doing on your own in the bar?’ she countered.

He laughed again, a blinding flash of strong white teeth against his impressive tan. ‘I’m here to see the barman. What’s your excuse?’

‘A holiday.’ She levelled a stare on his face. ‘What do you do for a living?’

The bluntness of her question seemed to take him by surprise, but he soon recovered. ‘This and that.’

‘This and that, what?’ she pressed.

‘I guess you could call me a representative.’

‘What do you sell?’

‘I promote a country’s interests, its culture, industry and people.’

‘Ah, so you’re in the tourism business,’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s nice.’ And when he nodded, she asked, ‘Which country do you represent?’

‘Are you staying here long?’ he asked, changing the subject.

The fact he’d ignored her question didn’t escape her notice and she gave him a suspicious look. Then, obviously deciding it couldn’t do any harm to tell him a little more, she added, ‘Not long enough.’

She was enjoying the man’s company and decided to prolong the exchange. He excited her. It was no use pretending when every nerve ending she possessed was responding with enthusiasm to the wicked expression in his laughing black eyes. She’d never flirted before, and was surprised to find she rather liked it. This man could turn her insides warm and needy with a look.

‘Have you been dancing yet?’ he enquired, shooting her an interested look.

‘Is that an invitation?’

‘Do you want it to be?’

‘No, sadly.’ She gave him a crooked smile. ‘These shoes are killing me.’ Twirling a foot, she stared ruefully at the delicate designer shoes with their stratospheric spiky heels. Could anyone walk in them?

‘You could always slip them off and dance,’ he suggested.

As he spoke a band struck up for the evening’s entertainment somewhere outside on the terrace. Imagine dancing beneath a canopy of stars, she thought. How romantic. She glanced at her companion, and immediately wished she hadn’t. He really did have the wickedest black eyes, which, for some reason, made her think of slowly stripping off her clothes while he watched. She shivered inwardly at the thought. What she should be doing was making it clear that she didn’t pick up men in bars. She should collect up her things, get down from the stool and walk away. It was that easy.

Sex with him would be fun. And seriously good.

What was wrong with her? This wasn’t the type of simmering heat she’d read about in novels and magazines, but hot, feral lust, that promised very adult pleasures indeed.

‘You are extremely entertaining, signorina.’

‘Really?’ Goodness, she hadn’t meant to be. He certainly was. Sensuality emanated from him. If she embarked on her Italian adventure with Luca, it could only lead to one place. Fantastic! Callie’s inner harlot rejoiced, so now the thought of lying close to him, skin to skin, with those strong, lean hands controlling her pleasure—

‘Signorina?’

‘Yes?’ She blinked and refocused on his eyes...his disturbingly experienced eyes. However attractive and compelling she found him, she had to be careful not to take these newfound flirting skills too far. So the adventure of a lifetime is over before it begins? The adventure of a lifetime was great in theory, but in practice it threatened all sorts of unknown pleasures—dangers, Callie corrected her inner demon firmly. She had more sense than to let things go too far. Concentrating fiercely on her glass of water, she tried not to notice Luca’s brutal masculinity as it warred with her inner prude. She gave up in the end. He’d won this point. He was far better at flirting than she was.

What else was he good at?

Stop that now! Didn’t she have enough to contend with—a crotch-skimming skirt, and heels custom-made to prevent a stylish exit—without going head to head with a sex god in jeans?

‘Another aqua frizzante, signorina?’

How did Luca make that simple question sound so risqué? ‘Yes, please.’

Oh, so her sensible self was on holiday too?

She wanted to know more about him. What was wrong with that? Chances like this didn’t come around every day. So shoot me if I’m easy. She wasn’t ready to leave yet. And, anyway, why should she be the one to go?

Marco quickly refilled her glass and Luca handed it to her. She sucked in a sharp breath as their fingers touched. He was like an incendiary device to her senses. Using the mirror behind the bar, she surveyed the other men in the room to see if any compared. No, was the simple answer. They were all without exception safe-looking guys, dressed neatly in business suits. There was no one else slouched on one hip, wearing extremely well-packed jeans and a crisp white shirt open a few buttons at the neck to reveal a shading of dark hair. She jumped guiltily when she realised that Luca was staring back at her through the mirror.

‘Taking everything in?’ he suggested with that same wicked look.

He couldn’t be interested in her. It didn’t make any sense with so many attractive women in the bar. Had he heard she’d won some money? He might be a particularly good-looking con man on the make, though he didn’t seem in need of cash and Marco the barman seemed to know him. Having survived her father, she had no intention of falling for a good-looking man simply because he was charming.

Falling for him?

‘You’re frowning, signorina,’ Luca murmured in a way that made all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention. ‘I hope I’m not the cause of your concern?’

‘Not at all,’ she said briskly as his direct stare sped straight to her core where it caused havoc all over again. On any level Luca was concerning. Lacking airs and graces, with his rugged good looks he could easily be a roustabout from the docks. Equally he could be a practised seducer. And now was not the time for her body to shout hallelujah! Instead, she should be thanking him for the drink and walking away. ‘Would you like a nut?’ she asked instead. Luca grinned and raised a brow in a way that thrilled her. ‘Before I eat them all,’ she added in a tone that told him not to tease as she pushed the bowl towards him.

‘It would be easier and far tastier to come out to supper with me,’ he said, angling his chin to stare her in the eyes.

Not a chance. That would be courting danger.

‘Supper?’ Luca pressed. ‘Or more nuts?’

She glanced with embarrassment at the almost empty dish—and gasped with shock when Luca took hold of her hand. She had never felt such a shock at a physical connection with another human being. The disappointment when she realised he’d only taken hold of her hand to steady it as he poured the last few nuts from the dish onto her palm was humiliating.

‘Enjoy your supper, signorina,’ he said, straightening up.

‘You’re going?’

‘Will you miss me?’

‘Only if I run out of nuts.’

He huffed a laugh that made her heart race like crazy. ‘You could come with me.’

She could singe her wings and crash back down to earth too. ‘No, thank you.’ She smiled, a little wistfully, maybe, but she knew she was doing the right thing. Luca was like a magnet drawing her into danger with those dark laughing eyes. She was enjoying this newfound flirting skill far too much. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your supper.’

‘I choose to be here.’

The way he spoke made breath hitch in her throat. The way he looked at her made everything inside her go crazy. It was everything about him, the Italian accent, his deep, husky voice, and his ridiculous good looks, and perhaps most of all the mesmerising stillness of his magnificent body. She was hypnotised—and determinedly shook herself round.

‘Signorina?’

He was waiting for her decision.

‘Enjoy your supper.’ She wanted to go with him. She wanted to be a bad girl for once in her life. Bad girls had more fun. But then she would have to live with regret. How could she not? She would regret sleeping with him and not knowing him better. She would regret not sleeping with him, and never having the chance again.

‘Enjoy your nuts—’

She couldn’t believe it when he walked away. Oh, well, that was that, then. Everything went flat when he walked out of the door, and he didn’t look back. He hadn’t suggested they meet again, and he hadn’t asked for her number. She’d probably done herself a favour, Callie reassured herself. He’d expect too much, more than she was prepared to give, anyway.

Saying goodnight to Marco, she got down from the barstool. She felt impatient with herself as she walked away. She couldn’t miss a man she didn’t know. She’d feel better once she was back in her room. She might have dressed up tonight, as per Rosie and Ma Brown’s instructions, but she was still Callie from the docks inside. But not for long, Callie decided when she reached her room. She couldn’t hang around the hotel aimlessly; she had to do something—get out, see more of the real Italy. This trip was supposed to be an adventure. She wasn’t tied to the past, or frightened of the future. Roll on tomorrow, she thought as she climbed into bed, and whatever it might hold.

* * *

As soon as he got back to the palazzo he called Marco. ‘Who is that woman?’

‘Signorina Callista Smith? Staying at the hotel on her own, if that’s what you’re asking, my friend.’

‘Am I so obvious?’

Marco barked a laugh down the phone. ‘Yes.’

‘Do you know anything else about her?’

‘Only that she comes from the north of England and that her father died recently, so this is a rebooting exercise for Callie. That’s how she described it while we were chatting. And that’s all I know about her.’

‘Okay. It explains a lot, though I’d guessed some of it.’

‘And?’ Marco prompted.

‘And it’s none of your business,’ Luca told his old friend. ‘See you on the estate for the celebrations tomorrow night?’

‘The start of the lemon-picking season,’ Marco confirmed. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, but can you spare the time? I thought Max was kicking off in Fabrizio.’

‘I have controls in place to keep Max on a leash.’

‘Financial controls?’ Marco guessed.

‘Correct,’ Luca said calmly. Max’s allowance was generous under their father’s rule, and was even more so now that Luca had the means to increase it. Max had never liked to work and with no other source of income he looked to Luca to support him.

‘And before you ask,’ Marco added, ‘Signorina Smith is booked into the hotel for another few days.’

‘You’ve been checking up on her?’

Marco laughed. ‘You sound suspicious. Do you care?’

He was surprised to discover that he did. ‘Back off, Marco.’

‘That sounds like a warning.’

‘And maybe I’ve discovered a conscience,’ Luca suggested. ‘She’s innocent and she’s alone, and you are neither of those things.’

‘You feel responsible for her already?’ Marco commented knowingly. ‘This sounds serious.’

‘I’m a caring citizen,’ Luca remarked dryly.

‘I’ll do as you say,’ Marco offered with his customary good humour. ‘And I’ll watch with interest to see how long your concern for Signorina Smith’s innocence lasts.’

He told Marco what he could do with his interest in Callista Smith in no uncertain terms, reminded him about the celebrations, and then cut the line.

What was he doing? He was a driven man with a country to care for, and a practically out-of-control brother to deal with. And he had to find a bride to provide an heir and continue the dynasty. He shouldn’t be wasting time on contemplating an affair—wouldn’t be, if he hadn’t found Signorina Smith so appealing. He had to remind himself that she was an ingénue with her life ahead of her, and, yes, everything to learn. If they never saw each other again it would be better for both of them. She should learn about sex and the harsh realities of life from a man who could make time for her.

Just don’t let me run into that man, Luca reflected dryly as he sank into the custom-moulded seat of his favoured bright red sports car. He’d have to kill him. No! He had no time to waste on romancing a woman who might have intrigued him tonight, but who would surely bore him by tomorrow when she proved to be as shallow as the rest.

Gunning the engine, he drove into town with his head full of Callista Smith. He planned to eat at his favourite restaurant. She should have been with him. Top international chefs worked at the palazzo, but Signorina Smith had put him in the mood for more robust fare. Tomorrow he would work alongside his seasonal staff in the lemon groves. In lieu of more challenging distractions, for which he had to thank Signorina Smith for providing some very entertaining images to keep him awake tonight, he’d fuel up on good food instead.

‘Hey, Luca... Alone tonight?’ The restaurant owner, who’d known Luca since he was a suspicious child tagging along behind his newly adoptive father, rushed out of the kitchen to give him a warm hug.

‘Unfortunately yes. But don’t worry. I can eat enough for two.’

‘You always had a huge appetite,’ the elderly owner approved.

True, Luca mused dryly as he ran his experienced eye over the women seated at the tables. They all stared at him with invitation in their eyes, but not one of them had the power to hold his interest. Not like Callista Smith.

* * *

She was surely the most ungrateful person in the world, Callie concluded as she woke to yet another day of sublime Italian sunshine. And frowned. She was staying in the most beautiful place imaginable in the most fabulous hotel, and yet still she felt as if something was missing. But how could that be, when she was nestled up in crisp white sheets, scented with lavender and sunshine, wearing the ice-blue, pure cotton nightdress trimmed with snowy white lace that Ma Brown had said Callie must have for her trip of a lifetime.

If money can’t make me happy, what can I do next?

Well, she’d spent most of the money on staying at this hotel, so she wouldn’t have to worry about her win on the scratch card and what it felt like to have some extra cash at her disposal for too much longer, Callie concluded with her usual optimism. Leaping out of bed, she threw the windows open and the view snatched the breath from her lungs. Steep white cliffs dropped down to pewter beaches where the shoreline was fringed by the brightest blue water she’d ever seen. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. Flowers and freshly baked bread, overlaid by the faint tang of ozone, prompted her to take a second breath, just so she could appreciate the first.