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Prince's Virgin In Venice
Trish Morey
Cinderella will go to the ball… And be seduced by the Prince Prince Vittorio’s spontaneous invitation to shy hotel maid Rosa is supposed to end at Venice’s most exclusive Carnival ball. Yet their instant chemistry soon leads to a scorching encounter! It’s meant to be Vittorio’s last taste of pleasure before duty demands he marry and provide an heir. But will one night with unexpected virgin Rosa be enough to slake his desire for her…?
Cinderella will go to the ball...
And be seduced by the prince
Prince Vittorio’s spontaneous invitation to shy hotel maid Rosa is supposed to end at Venice’s most exclusive Carnival ball. Yet their instant chemistry soon leads to a scorching encounter! It’s meant to be Vittorio’s last taste of pleasure before duty demands he marry and provide an heir. But will one night with unexpected virgin Rosa be enough to slake his desire for her?
Escape to Italy with this royal romance
USA TODAY bestselling author TRISH MOREY just loves happy endings. Now that her four daughters are—mostly—grown and off her hands, having left the nest, Trish is rapidly working out that a real happy ending is when you downsize, end up alone with the guy you married and realise you still love him. There’s a happy-ever-after right there. Or a happy new beginning! Trish loves to hear from her readers—you can email her at trish@trishmorey.com (mailto:trish@trishmorey.com).
Also by Trish Morey (#u5ca9e776-63ed-51ba-adbe-fecfb0aae401)
His Prisoner in Paradise
The Heir from Nowhere
Bartering Her Innocence
A Price Worth Paying?
Consequence of the Greek’s Revenge
21st Century Bosses collection
Fiancée for One Night
Bound by His Ring collection
Secrets of Castillo del Arco
Desert Brothers miniseries
Duty and the Beast
The Sheikh’s Last Gamble
Captive of Kadar
Shackled to the Sheikh
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Prince’s Virgin in Venice
Trish Morey
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08808-4
PRINCE’S VIRGIN IN VENICE
© 2019 Trish Morey
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u5ca9e776-63ed-51ba-adbe-fecfb0aae401)
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To magical Venezia,
floating city of love and romance.
Contents
Cover (#uc00939ea-1f4d-5c7a-aec1-d294852f09fb)
Back Cover Text (#ua1f14cad-7875-53b9-8757-10b5f91a2221)
About the Author (#u417de097-b266-56d1-a026-1518956d74b4)
Booklist (#u749bb2db-fd65-5511-b282-3e387f77ed1c)
Title Page (#ucb472925-5bda-578c-a67e-55fc74235054)
Copyright (#u028471a0-edb9-5553-a47e-aa92dcfc8074)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#ucf7c93cc-c127-5480-800a-66953d4d33a7)
CHAPTER ONE (#uca7d2338-92d5-5607-9398-678dd988ad16)
CHAPTER TWO (#ucc286cb2-2b5e-5bbe-8948-475afc42bfeb)
CHAPTER THREE (#u523a10de-25af-579f-a78b-6d2e3c536168)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u95875019-03fe-5b1a-a451-37b04303f946)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u5ca9e776-63ed-51ba-adbe-fecfb0aae401)
PRINCE VITTORIO D’MARBURG of Andachstein was fed up. Bored. Even in Venice at the height of carnival season, even on his way to the most exclusive party of the festival, still the Playboy Prince couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense of frustration that permeated his skin and drilled straight down into his bones.
Or maybe it was just the icy pricks from the February pea soup fog needling his skin that were turning his thoughts from carnival to cynical. It was a fog that turned the magical city invisible, precisely when the calles and narrow bridges were more crowded than ever with waves of costumed partygoers surging to and fro, competing for the available space—brightly garbed men and women for whom the fog failed to dampen the air of excitement and the energy that accompanied Carnevale.
It was if the floating city had been let off a leash and, fog or no, it was going to party.
Vittorio cut a swathe through the endless tide of carnival-goers, his cloak swirling in his wake, his mood blackening with every step.
The thronging crowds somehow parted and made way for him. He didn’t think too much about it. Maybe it was his warrior costume—a coat of mail and blue leather dressed with chain and gold braid—or maybe it was his battle-ready demeanour. Either way, it was as if they could read the hostility in his eyes as he headed towards the most exclusive party of the night.
And they could all see his eyes. Vittorio had given up playing with disguises when he was a child. There’d been no point. Everyone had always known it was him behind the mask.
Before the ancient well in the square that housed the Palazzo de Marigaldi, Vittorio’s long strides slowed. Ordinarily he would have been relieved to reach his destination and escape the exuberant crowds—should have been relieved—except for the fact that his father had all too gleefully shared the news in his latest call, just minutes earlier, that the Contessa Sirena Della Corte, daughter of one of his oldest friends, was opportunely going to be in attendance.
Vittorio snorted—just as he’d done when his father had told him.
Opportunely.
He doubted it.
Opportunistically would no doubt be a better word. The woman was a human viper draped in designer artistry, lying in wait for a royal title—which marriage to him would bestow upon her. And his father, despite Vittorio’s blanket protests, had encouraged her to pursue her desperate ambition.
Little wonder Vittorio was in no hurry to get there.
Little wonder that, despite the assurances he’d made to his old friend Marcello that nothing would stop him attending his party tonight, Vittorio’s enthusiasm had been on the wane ever since his father’s call had come through.
Dio.
He’d come to Venice thinking the famous carnival would offer an escape from the stultifying atmosphere of the palace and the endless demands of the aging Prince Guglielmo, but it seemed they had stalked him here—along with the Contessa Sirena.
His father’s choice for his next bride.
But after the experience of his first doomed marriage Vittorio wasn’t about to be dictated to again—not when it came to the woman who would share his marriage bed.
The crowds were thickening, party deadlines were calling, and their excitement was at odds with his own dark thoughts. He was a man out of place, out of time. He was a man who had the world at his feet, and destiny snapping at his heels. He was a man who wanted to be able to make his own choices, but he was cursed with the heritage of his birth and his need to satisfy others before he could entertain his own needs.
He all but turned to walk away—from his destiny as much as from the party. He wasn’t in the mood for going another few rounds with Sirena—wasn’t in the mood for her blatant attempts at seduction, the pouting, and the affected hurt when her all too obvious charms went ignored.
Except there was no question of his not going. Marcello was his oldest friend and Vittorio had promised him he would be there. Sirena would just have to keep on pouting.
But curse his father for encouraging the woman.
Something caught his eye. A flash of colour amongst the crowd, a static burst of vermilion amidst the moving parade of costumes and finery, a glimpse of a knee, down low, and a hint of an upturned angular jaw up high—like snatches of a portrait in oils when all around were hazy watercolours.
