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‘I always am.’
‘I mean it. I don’t even know this guy—’
‘He’s rich and titled, Ben. What more could I want?’
‘Don’t sell yourself short.’
She said nothing, and yet that silence seemed so lonely. So sorrowful. Ben sighed. ‘You will ring me if you need anything? Ever?’
‘Of course.’ But he could tell she didn’t mean it.
After saying goodbye, he disconnected the call and stared into space, thinking once again of another sharp, funny woman who hid her true self from him.
Back in the front office Natalia drew in a big breath and let it out slowly. Right. Photocopying. Filing. She could do this. She smiled at Francesca.
‘You have something for me to do?’
‘It’s rather boring—’
‘I think the point of me being here is to do boring,’ Natalia said drily, and listened as Francesca directed her to a pile of about a zillion envelopes that all needed stuffing with some sort of support letter. Perfect. It would take several hours, and required no more skill than putting one piece of paper inside another. She could do this. She nearly sagged with relief.
Yet Natalia soon found that stuffing envelopes left her mind all too free to wander. And to wonder. Did Ben now believe she hadn’t planned to trip into his arms on purpose? As pleasant as it had been to feel his hard body against her own, it had still been completely unintentional. And then in that dark alley … Just remembering that exquisitely taut moment caused a shudder of longing to ripple through her. He’d been so close to kissing her. A single breath away. He’d been going to kiss her, and then he’d forced himself to stop.
That was why he was so angry today, Natalia decided as she sealed yet another envelope. He’d desired her last night, and he knew she knew it, and it annoyed him. She could just imagine how aggravated Ben Jackson would be at wanting someone he thought shallow, spoilt and completely inappropriate.
She wondered just what kind of women decorated his arm … and warmed his bed. Brisk and business-minded, like himself? Surely not. She could certainly see Ben entertaining a model or starlet, and then calmly discarding them when he’d finished with their services. Sex—or even love—was probably just another item to tick on his to-do list.
She pressed her lips together and tossed another sealed envelope onto her growing stack. She would not be one of his ticked boxes. She would not be used by Ben Jackson at all. She might have a well-earned wild reputation, but she stayed in charge. In control. And if Ben thought he was determined to resist her … he had no idea how determined she could be. She wouldn’t get close to anyone, and certainly not Ben Jackson.
The rest of the week passed without incident. The press was thankfully occupied with the exploits of other members of the Santina family, and tailing Natalia being driven to work every day was not noteworthy enough to make a headline. Ben was out of the office for two days, checking out the island’s stadium where the camp would be launched on Monday. Natalia hadn’t given too much thought to her duties after this week, but as she helped Francesca sort stacks of youth-size T-shirts she wondered just what Ben was going to have her do on a football pitch. She could barely kick a ball; she’d never been much of one for sport. School, as a whole, had simply been something to endure.
Late Friday afternoon Ben strolled into the office, looking remarkably refreshed and energised. Natalia, in comparison, felt about as refreshed as a wet towel. Working just one week had very nearly done her in.
‘So, Princess,’ he said. ‘Be ready to work hard on Monday.’
Natalia glanced pointedly at the stack of T-shirts she’d been going through with Francesca. ‘Oh, excuse me, this isn’t working hard?’
His faint smile turned into a full-fledged grin. ‘Not even close. On Monday you’ll be working up a sweat.’
‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you that women glow?’
‘Then on Monday you’ll be fluorescent.’
‘What a thought.’ She shook her head and refolded a T-shirt. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she said, without rancor. Something about Ben’s blatant enthusiasm was almost catching.
‘I’m looking forward to starting the camp,’ Ben admitted. ‘Getting out on the pitch.’
‘You said you played yourself?’
‘A long time ago.’
‘Most millionaires would just throw a pile of money at a charity,’ Natalia said thoughtfully, ‘not get as involved as you do.’
For a second Ben looked almost trapped by her question, as if she’d asked something embarrassingly personal. Perhaps she had. Then he shrugged and said, ‘I like to be out there, actually playing. Coaching. It’s fun for me.’
‘Now, fun is not a word I’d associate with you.’
He slid her a sudden, sideways grin that ignited her senses. ‘You don’t know me well enough to say that, Princess.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Really. And wait until I get you out onto the pitch. We’re both going to have a lot of fun.’
She grimaced. ‘That sounds like a threat.’
‘Consider it a promise,’ he told her, and she arched her eyebrows.
Was he flirting? It felt like flirting.
‘If we’re going to have so much of your kind of fun on the pitch,’ she said, ‘perhaps we should have my kind of fun before.’ As soon as she spoke the words, she realized how provocative they sounded—almost as if she were propositioning him. Still she smiled in challenge, refused to avert her gaze as Ben stared at her speculatively, one shoulder propped against the doorway of his office.
‘That sounds … intriguing.’
Natalia’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Didn’t it just. ‘How about a deal?’ she suggested. ‘I’ll experience your kind of fun at camp, and you have to experience my kind of fun this weekend. Going out,’ she clarified quickly, and felt herself blush as she considered what he might have thought she meant.
‘Out where?’
‘I get to pick. It’ll be a surprise.’
‘And why should I do this?’ Ben inquired in a silky voice. ‘I don’t need to make a deal, princess. You’re already here because I convinced your father.’
‘Do it,’ Natalia told him, ‘because you want to.’ Ben’s gaze blazed into her own and distantly she wondered what on earth she was doing, daring him like this. Wanting him like this. And he knew it. And maybe even wanted her too. It was crazy, scary, and yet she couldn’t keep herself from it, from him, like a child playing with matches. Someone was going to get burned.
‘All right,’ Ben said softly. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Where?’
Natalia drew a steadying breath. How had this even happened? How had they got to this place? ‘You can pick me up at the palazzo at noon.’
Ben was still gazing at her, his expression narrowed and assessing, and Natalia had the strange feeling that he was as surprised as she was that he’d agreed. That they were going out … tomorrow. Finally he nodded, and Natalia managed an insouciant smile despite the thud of her heart and the sickness of her palms. ‘Wear something nice. And don’t expect to be home until late.’
‘Sounds like you’ve already got a plan.’
‘Maybe.’ She didn’t, not really, not beyond showing Ben what fun could really mean. And it had nothing to do with football pitches. For a second, she dizzily imagined just how much fun the two of them could have. And then swallowed audibly.
Ben’s gaze still rested on her, considering, heavy, and once more Natalia wondered just what on earth she was doing. Risking. Then, without another word, the tension still tautening the air between them, he turned and went into the office.
As he closed the door Natalia sagged, saw she’d been clenching the T-shirt she’d been folding so hard there were nail marks in the fabric.
When Natalia arrived back at the palazzo that evening, her mind still buzzing from her exchange with Ben, her mother called her into her private rooms and Natalia knew from the lavender silk evening gown her mother wore that once again royal duty beckoned.
‘Back from your charity work?’ Zoe asked, which Natalia knew was how her mother liked to view her volunteering for Ben Jackson. She nodded, and Zoe turned to a waiting maid. ‘I’ll wear the amethyst parure.’
‘Very good, Your Highness.’ The maid went to fetch the magnificent set of diamond and amethyst earrings, necklace, bracelet cuffs and tiara from her mother’s private safe. Zoe turned to Natalia.
‘We have several foreign dignitaries coming to dine tonight. You will attend. It is perfectly possible that one may represent your future husband.’
Natalia felt an icy plunging sensation in her middle. ‘My engagement to Prince Michel only ended a few weeks ago.’
‘All the more reason to press on. You are twenty-seven years old, Natalia. High time you were married.’
‘It’s the twenty-first century, Mother,’ Natalia protested, even though she’d made this argument before, to little effect. ‘Twenty-seven could be considered young these days.’
‘Not for a princess,’ Zoe replied firmly. ‘In any case, we are not ruled by current fashions. Your marriage is an important negotiation that will strengthen our country.’
‘Plenty of royals marry whomever they please,’ Natalia pointed out, and Queen Zoe arched her eyebrows.
‘You do not, I trust,’ she said, ‘have anyone in mind.’
Ridiculously and unreasonably, Ben—his quirking smile, his powerful body—flashed through her mind. ‘Of course not.’
Zoe sighed. ‘I know it is hard for a young woman to face her royal duty. And perhaps your father and I have been too lenient, allowing you the freedom to live life as you saw fit for too long.’ Although her mother spoke delicately, Natalia still heard the judgment, felt it in herself. She hadn’t done much with her life. She knew that. She just didn’t know how to change, or if she even wanted to. What was the point?
The maid returned with the parure and laid out the pieces on her mother’s vanity. Zoe glanced down at them, her eyes narrowed in assessment. ‘It is time you stepped into the role to which you were born, Natalia. It is time you started acting like a princess.’ The maid lowered the bejewelled tiara onto Zoe’s silver hair. Her mother met Natalia’s gaze in the ornate mirror. Natalia saw compassion there, but also an implacable will she knew she didn’t have the strength or resources to defy. ‘You will start,’ Queen Zoe told her, ‘tonight.’
An hour later, dressed in a sedate and modest evening gown of ivory silk, Natalia followed her mother into the palazzo’s formal receiving room. She hated these evenings. Hated how she felt like a dressed-up doll, or worse, a slab of meat. Something to be assessed and bargained over, and then picked apart or even devoured.
The hours dragged on as her parents engaged the dignitaries in social niceties and political innuendoes that Natalia didn’t even bother to listen to. She’d long ago learned not to have an opinion about any of it. As they headed into the dining room, her mother whispered in her ear once more.
‘At least smile, Natalia. You’re behaving like a block of wood.’
‘I thought that was exactly what you wanted,’ Natalia muttered.
Her mother silenced her with a quelling look and swept into the dining room. Natalia took her place at the table, her mind wandering as the conversation continued to flow around her. Then she heard her name.
‘The Princess Natalia has enjoyed herself, hasn’t she?’ One of the dignitaries—from some Middle Eastern island nation, Natalia thought—glanced at her with a smile, although his words had held a sharp edge.
‘All young girls enjoy themselves,’ Zoe answered with a gracious smile. ‘But the princess now needs a strong husband to guide her.’
Natalia nearly choked on her vichyssoise. She didn’t want a man to guide her. Or even love her. She didn’t want to get married at all. The thought of being auctioned off to some nameless autocratic royal made her insides clench in a spasm of both fear and fury.
Even as she told herself that her parents couldn’t force her to marry anyone, she acknowledged that they very well could. They could certainly make her life unpleasant or even unbearable unless she agreed to whichever husband they had chosen for her. She might as well live in the Middle Ages.
Perhaps she would have been better off with Prince Michel.
‘The princess is involving herself with some charity work,’ Zoe continued. ‘For disadvantaged children.’ She turned to Natalia, acknowledging her presence for the first time. ‘You find it very rewarding, don’t you, my dear?’
Natalia thought of the hundreds of envelopes she’d stuffed and sealed over the past few days. From somewhere she dredged up a small smile. ‘Very.’
Zoe smiled at the men assembled, who looked satisfied by Natalia’s meek answer. One of them gave her what she suspected he thought was a benevolent look. ‘I’m glad to hear the princess is changing her ways.’
‘The princess,’ Natalia said before she could stop herself, ‘is right here.’
The ensuing silence was like a thunderclap. Defiantly Natalia reached for her wine glass and took a large sip. What could they do to her after all? She was twenty-seven years old, a grown woman …
A woman who was dependent on her parents and their generosity because there was no way she could ever support herself. No way she could ever make it in this world.
After an icy pause her mother resumed the conversation, steering it towards more innocuous matters. At the end of the meal Queen Zoe rose to retire with Natalia to one of the smaller salons while the men discussed politics—and her possible marriage—in another room.
As soon as they were alone, the staff dismissed, Zoe turned to Natalia. ‘How dare you embarrass me,’ she hissed. ‘And yourself, and your family. We have been very patient, Natalia. Very tolerant—’
Natalia flushed. ‘I didn’t like them talking about me as if I wasn’t there.’
‘That is how it is done, Natalia! That is how these negotiations take place. These men want to see you and how you comport yourself so they can make a report to their sovereign. Is even this concept too difficult for you?’
‘I am not,’ Natalia said through gritted teeth, ‘that stupid.’
‘You could have fooled me tonight,’ Zoe snapped. ‘The way you have carried on these past years, never mind your abysmal performance in school! At least your sisters have learned how to behave themselves.’
That stung. ‘Oh, really? Carlotta is unmarried with a child and Sophia eloped with—’
‘Their marriages are now settled,’ Zoe cut across her, ‘and so must yours be.’
‘And if I don’t want to marry?’ Natalia flung out. ‘At all?’
Zoe sighed, the anger seeming to drain out of her. ‘You are a princess, Natalia. Princesses marry.’
‘This is the—’
‘Twenty-first century. Yes, I’m well aware.’ Her mother sat on a little antique chair, her back ramrod straight as always, and yet for the first time Natalia realised how old her mother looked. Living a life for duty’s sake took its toll on you, she supposed. Had her mother ever been happy? Or was happiness not even a consideration?
‘What other option do you have, Natalia?’ Zoe asked wearily. ‘Would you prefer to live your whole life in your parents’ palazzo, and then with your brother and his bride, an object of pity and scorn?’
Natalia swallowed. It sounded horrible. Everything did. ‘I don’t want to marry a man who—’
‘Doesn’t love you?’ Zoe filled in, her voice ending on a sigh. ‘Really, Natalia, love is for fairy tales.’
‘I don’t care about love,’ Natalia said stiffly. She’d seen and done enough not to trust such a concept. ‘I just want respect.’
‘Then perhaps you should start acting like you’re worthy of it.’
The words felt like a slap. She knew she hadn’t done much with her life. She didn’t have much to be proud of. She’d always known that. She just didn’t know how to change. If she could. Even if she wanted to. ‘Is that all?’ she asked her mother, her voice wooden. ‘Because I’ve had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.’
‘Very well.’ Zoe sighed and waved her away. ‘At least you have curtailed your evening exploits. But I do not want this ridiculous volunteering of yours to interfere with your real duty—and that is to find a husband.’
‘Father insisted I volunteer for a month,’ Natalia reminded her mother. ‘I must do as he says.’
