His Royal Love-Child

“You didn’t have sex with the beautiful blonde?”

He crushed her to him, his arms winding around her in a possessive hold that shook her. “No, porca miseria! I would never do that to you, mio precioso. I promise you.”

She believed him and the relief she felt was incredible. “Good, because I would never stay with a player.”

He laughed, the sound strained. “I am no player. I am not even the playboy the press paints me. I thought you knew this. I thought you knew me.”

“I did. I do, but a picture is worth a thousand words.”

“Only if you are speaking the same language as the photographer. What that journalist caught on film was two strangers dancing, nothing more. But look at the picture we paint, amante. Look and see the difference between eyes hot to possess and a social smile that meant nothing. Look at my hands which tremble with the need to touch you, but which held the other woman with total indifference.”

His words did indeed paint a picture more powerful than the one in the scandal sheet. And the feel of his body pressed against hers backed it up. He needed her and she needed him. She’d missed him so much.

“If you are not a playboy, then what are you?” she asked provocatively.

“A mere man who wants you very much.”

She could feel how much he wanted her and it made her insides melt.

Her mind started short-circuiting as it always did when he touched her, but she could still think straight enough to say, “Maybe we need to go public with our relationship. I don’t like seeing pictures like that, Marcello. They hurt.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, the bridge of her nose, her forehead and then her lips with aching tenderness. “You are too sweet, cara. The press would pulverize you and I could not bear to watch, but I will do all that I can to make sure you are not hurt this way again.”

That was something, she supposed, but she wanted to argue that she could handle the press. She was strong. She’d had to be her whole life. But her mouth was too busy kissing his to utter the words that needed saying.

The next morning, Marcello was gone when she woke up and so was the scandal rag, she noticed.

However, there was a red rose on his pillow and a note beside it. It read:

Cara,

Thank you for last night. I treasure our times together and the generosity of your affection for me.

M

He’d never left her a note before. His paranoia about privacy extended to not leaving any evidence of their relationship for others to find. This was a huge departure for him. It had to be significant. Maybe he was thinking about her desire to go public…maybe he was beginning to see that she was right.

The one thing she knew for certain was that his desire for her was not feigned. If he’d found relief with a convenient body while he was away from her, she was a monkey’s uncle.

He’d been way too hungry. They’d made love into the early hours of morning and he had told her repeatedly how much he missed her, how beautiful she was to him, how special. All the words her vulnerable heart longed for.

Except the three that really mattered, but then she’d never said them to him, either.

She’d always worried they would spell the end to their relationship. She’d assumed he would reject that sort of emotional tie. He’d been so clear at the beginning of their affair that it could only ever be just that. An affair with a beginning and an end and no happily ever after. She’d wanted him so much and had been so impressed with his honesty after Ray’s lies that she’d said yes.

And until she’d seen that picture in the tabloid, she’d never once regretted her choice. Marcello was an incredible lover and the time they spent together out of bed was equally fulfilling. He’d made their first time together very special and every time after.

His desire to keep their relationship underwraps had suited her down to the ground at first. She was too private a person to want to share their intimacy with the world at large. In that, too, she and Marcello were really alike. She’d seen what the gutter press could do with her friend Tara. At first, Danette had been only too happy to avoid the possibility of experiencing anything ugly and intrusive like that herself.

But beyond that, she had feared that if word of her relationship with Marcello got out, she would have to deal with interference from her well-meaning but overprotective parents. She’d also been concerned that her job might be affected, no matter how much Marcello did not want that to happen. She wanted to earn her advancement and did not want others speculating what her time between the sheets with the president of the company meant for her career.

She’d spent her whole life up to now under the watchful and overly intrusive eye of her family. It was important to her to prove that the strength it had taken to beat the scoliosis that had threatened her ability to walk, and even her life, spilled over into the rest of her existence as well.

Which was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted love or a long-term commitment in the beginning, either. She’d spent years in a sort of self-imposed isolation because of the brace she’d worn until she was nineteen to correct the deforming curve in her spine. And she’d wanted to feel what it was to be a woman. She’d wanted to date, to kiss, to heavy pet and ultimately to make love.

She’d wanted Marcello beyond reason and independently of finer feelings…or at least that was what she’d thought.

When she’d arrived in Italy, the farthest thing from her mind had been a desire to get into another relationship. She’d been bent on proving she wasn’t as stupid as Ray’s betrayal had made her feel. The first time they met, Marcello had unwittingly given her the means to do so.

She’d been feeling frustrated with herself because Angelo had arranged for her job, wondering if she could ever make it entirely on her own. She didn’t know if everyone was so nice because they liked her, or because they wanted to do Angelo a favor…or at least please their boss who had extended the favor to his good friend.

She’d been in the middle of a royal bout of insecurity when Marcello made his first appearance at her desk. “You are the friend of Angelo Gordon’s wife, are you not?” he’d asked without bothering to introduce himself.

She’d known who he was of course and even how he preferred to be addressed within Scorsolini Shipping. “Yes, Signor Scorsolini. I’m Danette Michaels.”

“Angelo speaks highly of you.”

“I’m glad. I loved my job with his company.”

“But you wanted a change of venue, to see some of the world?” he asked with a blue gaze that could probe into the very depths of her soul.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “You realize that my good friend’s reputation in my eyes depends a great deal on your performance here.” He didn’t say it unkindly, or as if in warning, more like he was confirming something she already knew.

But it was news to her…welcome news. It gave her a target to aim for and said that, far from awarding her special treatment, he would expect more from her than his other employees. The words were like honey to her ears and she lapped them up. “I won’t let either of you down.”

“I do not doubt this. I am sure that because you came to work for me on his recommendation, you will work twice as hard to prove that he was smart to recommend you.”

“You’re right, I will.” And it was a vow.

He smiled then, giving her her first taste of mind-numbing physical awareness. “Don’t work too hard. But I do not believe you will let either of us down.”

And in proving him right, she made the job her personal triumph. Every success she achieved was a gift she consciously gave to both men who had chosen to believe in her and subconsciously gave to herself. When she had been promoted and given her own office after only four months because of her diligence, Marcello had called to personally congratulate her and Angelo had sent her an e-mail thanking her for making him look so good to his friend.

It had all been very feel good and laid a strong foundation for her growing confidence as an independent woman. Marcello asking her out had added to that confidence though she’d definitely been leery of him to begin with.

Danette worked on her sales projection report, determined to make her boss glad he’d promoted her and given her a private office. If there was a part of her that wanted to impress the president of the company, too, well, that was to be expected.

After all, he’d arranged for her to get her current job on the recommendation of his friend and she didn’t want him to regret that choice, either. It had nothing to do with the fact that every time she saw him, her breathing and pulse rate went wacko.

She wasn’t interested in risking her heart again and for sure not with a man of Prince Marcello Scorsolini’s playboy reputation.

“Do you realize the time, Danette?”

Her head snapped up at the sound of the company president’s voice coming from her open doorway.

“Signor Scorsolini!” She jumped up from her chair, looking around her, trying to focus on the now while her mind was still stuck on sales figures.

The hall outside her office was on dimmed lighting for after hours and the silence surrounding them told her that she was one of the few people left in the building. The small clock on her desk said it was eight o’clock.

Her mouth rounded in an, “Oh…” and then she gave him a rueful grimace. “No wonder my legs feel like they’ve petrified in one position.”

“You work too hard.”

She laughed as she stretched, realizing as she did so that her entire body was seriously cramped from sitting at her desk for so long. “That’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think? Your workaholic hours are legendary around here.”

“I do not expect my employees to give up all life outside of work in order to serve Scorsolini Shipping.” He watched her stretch with disturbing intensity. “It is not the same for me. I have more reasons than most company presidents to make sure my business is a success.”

“What do you mean?” she asked curiously as she smoothed her hair with a nervous hand.

The flirtatious facade she had created to deal with men deserted her in his company. She was lucky to string two syllables together that made sense when he spoke to her.

“The people of my country rely on the income from Scorsolini Shipping worldwide to maintain a standard of living in line with the other industrialized nations.”

“You mean Isole dei Re?”

“Yes, naturally.”

She didn’t want to sit down again, but she felt exposed standing there behind her desk. She compromised by busying herself stacking the papers related to the sales projection report. It was the way he was looking at her…not at all like a boss looks at his employee.

More like a predator sizing up its prey.

She searched her mind for something to say. “I don’t understand how Isole dei Re can be so reliant on this division of Scorsolini Shipping. There are only a handful of your countrymen and women employed here.”

“You know this how?”

“I asked.”

“It is interesting that you care.” His still predatory gaze probed her speculatively.

“Everything about the company I work for interests me.”

Marcello moved further into the room. “And the man you work for, does he interest you, I wonder?”

“You didn’t just say that.” She stared at him, shock coursing through her.

He smiled, his blue eyes full of knowing amusement. “I did, but we will leave it for the moment and I will answer your other question. While I do not employ many of my country’s subjects, half of the net profits of all Scorsolini companies are paid into the national treasury and used to maintain and improve the country’s infrastructure.”

“You mean things like hospitals?” she asked, fascinated. It had never occurred to her that the royal family gave back to their country on such an overwhelming scale.

“That and roads, schools, police and fire departments…the many things citizens of larger countries take for granted as being paid for by tax dollars.”

“Wow.”

“The money must come from somewhere.”

“And Scorsolini Shipping is it?”

“Along with what tax dollars we do receive in revenue and the other enterprises of our country. My older brother, Tomasso, has recently supervised the discovery of lithium mines on Rubino. He has taken Scorsolini Mining and Jewels to an unprecedented level.” His voice rang with pride in his brother’s achievement.

“Funny, that’s what Angelo Gordon told me you had done with the Italian arm of Scorsolini Shipping.”

“My father and older brother are pleased with my efforts.”

“They should be.” And then she blushed at the vehemence of her words.

But he smiled, apparently pleased by her words. “My older brother, Claudio, has recently informed me that when he ascends to the throne, he and Tomasso have agreed that I will take over the entire shipping company while Tomasso maintains his position as head of Scorsolini Mining and Jewels.”

“Did that surprise you?”

He nodded, coming closer, his presence filling her senses. “Normally the second son would take that position and I would either continue as I am or take Tomasso’s position, but because he has taken that side of our family’s holdings so far and my brothers and father are content with my performance here, I will be given the honor.”

“That’s wonderful! I suppose you celebrated by working a few extra twenty-hour days,” she teased, knowing from the company grapevine that was exactly what he’d been doing lately.

He came around the desk and leaned against it, not six inches from where she stood. “Just as you have done?”

“Touché.” She stopped in the act of reaching for the papers she’d stacked so she could file them. Doing so would require leaning into him and her senses were headed toward overload as it was. “I just don’t want my boss to regret his decision to promote me,” she said a trifle breathlessly.

“I also feel this need…in relation to the confidence my family has put in me.”

His scent was teasing at her olfactory senses and she wanted to get closer, which was insane under the circumstances. “I guess…um…that we have something in common.”

He reached out and touched her. Just a light brush against her cheek, but she felt paralyzed by it.

“Perhaps more than this single thing,” he suggested.

Her face tingled where he had brushed it. “I can’t imagine that we could have much else. Our lives are very different.”

“Perhaps, but I think you are wrong. Will you have dinner with me tonight to find out?”

“What?” She shook her head, trying to clear it. The president of Scorsolini Shipping had asked her out on a date?

“I would like you to have dinner with me.”

“But…”

“I like you, Danette, and I hope you like me, too.” But his confident smile said he already knew she did, that he knew exactly the effect his nearness was having on her body.

“Of course I like you, but you asked me out on a date. I’m not your type.”

“And you base this assumption on what?”

“Everybody knows you date really gorgeous women.”

“You are beautiful.”

She snorted at that. “I have a mirror. I’m nothing like the women you normally have your picture taken with.”

“That is window dressing…a facade I present to the world to keep my private life private.” He looked so sincere, but he couldn’t be serious.

“But—”

“Come to dinner with me and see what kind of man I am when the paparazzi are not present with their insidious cameras.”

“My job…” she said uncertainly.

“I make you this promise, Danette. Your job will not be influenced for good or for ill regardless of what happens or does not happen between us.”

“So, if I say no to your dinner invitation?” she asked.

“I will be disappointed, but that will have no impact on your employment, advancement or type of opportunities given here at Scorsolini Shipping. To be fair, I must also tell you that even if you were to become my lover, that would not impact those same things in a positive way, either.”

“I never for a moment would have expected them to.”

“You are very naive.”

“There’s nothing naive about believing that a person should earn their job advancement.”

He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “I like that about you and I agree.”

“Good.”

“So, will you allow me to take you to dinner?”

Every logical impulse in her body screamed at her to tell him no. She didn’t want to get into a relationship, but dinner wasn’t exactly a promise for the future. Maybe he was only interested in friendship. But he’d mentioned being her lover. That implied a lot more than chatting over coffee.

Oddly enough, it was the prospect of the more that had her so horribly tempted. She’d dated so little in her life and she’d never spent so much as half an hour with a man as intriguing as Marcello. Not unless you counted Angelo Gordon, but he belonged to her friend and even he didn’t stir her latent sexuality the way that Marcello did.

Ray certainly never had, the lying sneak.

This wasn’t about love and happily ever after, she told herself, it was about experiencing feelings she’d denied herself far too long.

“Okay. I’ll have dinner with you.”

CHAPTER THREE

HE TOOK her to a small, family run restaurant outside of Palermo. It was a quarter to nine by the time they reached it. She’d learned Europeans often ate late. The owner was more than happy to give them a table.

As a dinner companion, Marcello lived up to every concept she had of him. He was charming, attentive and so sexy that her body thrummed with an awareness she’d never experienced with another man.

He poured her a second glass of the rich red wine he’d ordered with dinner. “So, Angelo said you were ready for a change and that is why you came to Sicily.”

She’d noticed since coming to Palermo that Sicilians made a distinction between themselves and other Italians, as if they were their own separate country. Marcello did the same thing even though technically, he was from another country altogether. She had heard that his mother was Sicilian. Perhaps that accounted for it.

“Yes, I needed a change.”

“Was there a man involved?”

Strangely she did not find his question intrusive. In an inexplicable way, she felt she could tell him almost anything. “Yes.”

“What happened?” he asked with an expression that compelled her to share her deepest secrets with him.

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Make me feel like I should tell you everything in my head.”

“Ah…there is a lot more to being the head of an international business than being able to count money.”

She laughed. “I know that, but I wasn’t aware that playing the role of father confessor was part of it.”

“You would be surprised. Now tell me about the boyfriend.”

“I thought he loved me, but he used me to get pictures of Tara and Angelo so he could break into tabloid journalism.”

“He was the one responsible for those stories about them in the scandal rags last year?”

“Yes. They hurt Tara, a lot. She’d been savaged by the press once before and Ray’s antics got her fired before Angelo found out what had happened.”

“I hate the tabloids.”

“But you’re in them so often.”

“Like I told you, I create a facade for them to latch on to so they leave my real life alone.”

She’d done the very same thing as a small child. She’d created an image of an outgoing, confident girl that hid her private thoughts and feelings. No matter how intrusively doctors, or even her own parents, played their roles in her life, there was an interior Danette who remained sacrosanct to her alone.

Knowing they shared such a coping mechanism made her feel close to him in a way she would not have thought possible.

“Tell me more about Ray,” Marcello said.

“There isn’t much to tell. He was looking for the main chance and took it, not caring who he hurt or how much he hurt them. I think that’s what devastated me the most. He couldn’t have known my best friend was going to get involved with a media interest like Angelo Gordon, or that her notoriety would be so easily revived.”

At least that’s what she’d thought. “Our relationship started out for the usual reasons…I think. My family is wealthy and maybe he figured all along that I might take him into circles he could use to advance his career goals, but I really think that he saw the main chance and just went for it.”

“And this hurt you?”

“Very much, but I’m over him now.” And she was. It had happened faster than she’d thought it could.

The move to Italy had been the right choice.

“The betrayal by a lover is the most devastating.”

“He wasn’t my lover, thank goodness.”

“So, the relationship wasn’t very old?”

“That depends on how you define old. We were together for a few months.”

“And he did not take you to bed?”

“It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part,” she said, stung that Marcello should think that she wasn’t fanciable.

“No doubt. Why did you hold back from him?”

“It never felt right. It made him angry, but I didn’t realize how much. He said some very cutting things when we broke up.”

“I see.”

“Do you? What do you see, Signor Scorsolini?”

“First that you must call me Marcello when we are away from the company.”

She smiled despite the heavy feelings in her heart from her trip down memory lane. “All right.”

“Second, that the man was a fool and obviously not very good in the seduction stakes.”

“Or I’m not easily seduced.”

“Be assured, I love a challenge.”

She gasped at his blatant claim and the implication of it. “I’m not looking for that right now.”

“But you have found it, as I will delight in showing you. I want you and I intend to have you.”

But he didn’t push for even a good-night kiss when he took her home that night. And it was the same on the three dates they had after that over the next two weeks. No matter what he had said, he seemed perfectly happy with a platonic friendship, while her physical awareness of him grew with every moment spent in his company.

She even started having sexy dreams about him. She would wake up feeling embarrassed by her obvious desire and disturbed by the strength of it…not to mention how easily he’d infiltrated her subconscious as well as her conscious life.

He’d asked her to maintain their status quo at work and to keep their time together strictly confidential. She’d agreed without pause. No one was going to accuse her of trading on a relationship with a man to get ahead in her career. Besides, there was something really alluring about clandestine meetings with the super sexy Marcello.

She loved talking to him on the phone and knowing that they were carrying on a conversation on a whole level that the people around them knew nothing about. Then he had to go away on a business trip and she missed him like crazy. He only called once and it was a short conversation. It had to be…she’d been at work.

They had plans to eat out the night after he got back, but when he came to pick her up, she had made dinner. She wanted time with him, to be completely natural together and the only way for that to happen was behind closed doors.

He sniffed appreciatively when she ushered him inside. “It smells so good, I almost want to beg to stay in and have leftovers.”

“We are staying in, only they aren’t leftovers. I made dinner.”

“Is it a special occasion?”

“I thought I could teach you how to play Golf.”

His brow drew together in puzzlement as he looked around the cottage’s small living room. “I am already a competent golfer.”

She laughed at his incomprehension. “It’s a card game and one of the few that is as much fun with two people as four.”