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“Right. So, you know where it is, and you clearly possess the key. Why not go without me?”
“Well, it isn’t that simple. I am a member of the D’Oro family. And while technically I can return to the island because I am only of the bloodline, and I never ruled, gaining access could still be a problem.”
“I see. So, how do we play this? Wealthy American businessman on a vacation takes a beautiful...” He paused for a moment, allowing his eyes to sweep over her, not hiding how underwhelmed he was by the sight. “A beautiful princess as his lover?”
“Absolutely not!” She turned a very intense shade of pink, and he found himself captivated by the slow bleed of color beneath her skin.
“You have a better suggestion?”
“I want to prevent scandal. I want to bring the painting back here with as little fanfare as possible. I don’t want you making a big production of things.”
“And I assure you I will not. This is for a private collection and has nothing to do with causing embarrassment to the royal family.”
She worried her lip between her teeth. “I don’t trust you.”
“Excellent. I wouldn’t trust me, either.”
“Excellent. No trust.” Her cheeks were getting redder. This time, he figured it was from frustration. “I want to go with you. But I don’t want to cause a scene. I can’t cause a scene. You have no doubt seen the kind of scandal my parents create in the headlines with their drug use, affairs, separations, reconciliations... The press would love to smell blood in the water around me and I just can’t chance it.”
An evil thought occurred to him and it made him smile. “Well, if you don’t wish to go as my lover—”
“I don’t!”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to come as my assistant.”
“No one will believe that I’m your assistant. I’m a princess.” She lifted her little nose in the air, dark hair cascading over her back like spilled ink. Now she did indeed look every inch insulted royalty.
“What do you typically look like when you go out and about? I imagine it isn’t like this,” he said, indicating her rather drab trappings.
“I don’t go out frequently. But when I do I have a stylist.”
“Your glasses?”
“I normally wear contacts.”
He nodded slowly. “Princess Gabriella D’Oro. I have seen pictures of you—it’s only that I would never have recognized you in your current state. The difference is remarkable.”
He had an immediate picture in his mind of a glossier, more tamed version of the woman in front of him. Sleek and, actually, quite beautiful. Though not remotely as interesting as the version of Gabriella that stood before him.
She waved a hand. “Between professionally fitted dresses, undergarments to hold in all undesirable lumps and bumps, makeup to cover every flaw, false eyelashes, red lips... I’m scarcely the same person.”
“A good thing for our current situation.” He regarded her for a longer period of time. “Yes, that will do nicely. You will come as my assistant. With your hair just like this. With your glasses. And with some horrible pantsuit. No one will ever believe you are Princess Gabriella. No one will look twice at you. Certainly not close enough to identify you. That eases any and all problems we might have with the press, with the local government and with scandal.”
He could see that she was fuming, radiating with indignity. He quite liked it. He didn’t have a lot of time. He certainly didn’t have extra time to stand around negotiating about keys and directions with a silly girl.
So she would come. It was no difference to him either way.
“That is a ridiculous idea,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve never traveled. I mainly stay here in the estate.”
“Curled up on a cushion reading a book?”
She blinked. “What else would one do on a cushion?”
“Oh, I can think of several things.”
“Drinking tea?”
“No. Not drinking tea.”
Her expression was a study in confusion. It was almost cute. Except that he had no interest in bookish virgins.
She was...naive. Young. For a moment he was concerned about how young. “How old are you?”
She sniffed. “I’m twenty-three. You can stop looking at me like I’m some sort of schoolgirl.”
“Cara mia, you are a schoolgirl to me.”
“How old are you?”
“That is none of your business.”
“Am I to respect my elders?”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. Rare was the person who poked back at him. He rather enjoyed having fun at other people’s expense, but they didn’t dare have it at his.
His secret was that he found it rather entertaining just how afraid everyone seemed to be in his presence. His formidable reputation afforded him a great deal of enjoyment. Though the fact that he took pleasure in making people quake in his presence was likely why he had so few friends. Not that he minded.
He had sycophants, he had business associates and he had mistresses. He had no room in his life for anything else. Nor had he the desire for them.
Unfortunately, he also had family, and with them came obligations. Family was, after all, how he found himself here now.
“Then it is decided. You will be my personal assistant, a college student, doing a work experience program. Traveling with me to Isolo D’Oro to take in some of the local culture and scenery while I negotiate a business deal.”
“I’m supposed to be your...intern?” She was positively incandescent with irritation now.
“Yes. Of course, Gabriella is a little bit posh for that. How about Gabby? It has a very nice ring to it. Don’t you think, Gabby?”
“I hate being called Gabby.”
“But I’ll wager you hate scandal even more. So, Gabby my assistant you will be, and we will not create any of it.”
She frowned, her dark brows lowering, disappearing behind the thick frame of her glasses. “If you’re going to be this exasperating for the entire journey I can see it’s going to be a problem.”
“I don’t plan on being this exasperating for the entire journey.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “I plan on being at least twice as exasperating.”
Her eyes flew wide. “And why is that?”
“Oftentimes I find life short on entertainment. I do my best to make my own fun.”
“Yes, well, I live in an estate with an old woman in her nineties. I make a lot of my own fun, too. But typically that involves complicated genealogy projects and a little bit of tatting.”
“Tatting?”
“You can never have too many doilies. Not in a house this size.”
He arched a brow, studying her face to see if she was being sincere. He couldn’t get a read on her. “I will have to take your word for that.”
“Don’t you have doilies?”
He lifted his shoulder. “I might in one of my residences. I can’t say that I ever noticed.”
“I could make you some. No one should have a doily deficiency.”
“God forbid.” He turned and began to walk away from her. “Aren’t you going to show me to my room?”
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“Aren’t you going to show me to my room?” he repeated. “We will leave early tomorrow morning for Isolo D’Oro. I don’t see any point in my staying elsewhere. You have a great many rooms in the estate. And they are replete with doilies, I hear. Which means you should be able to accommodate me.”
He turned his most charming and feral smile in her direction. Usually women shrank back from them. Or swooned.
She did neither.
“I did not invite you to stay. And it’s particularly impolite of you to invite yourself.”
“It wasn’t particularly hospitable of you to not invite me. I will put aside my pique for the sake of convenience, and a more companionable journey tomorrow. Now,” he said, his tone uncompromising. He excelled at being uncompromising. “Be a good girl and show me to my room.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ff843320-4671-5ff3-b6b4-e5c6e1a6f17b)
“WHAT IS THIS?”
Gabriella came out of the bedroom positioned toward the back of his private jet. She was wearing her glasses, as instructed, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was also newly dressed in the outfit he had gone to great lengths to procure for her before his plane had departed this morning for Isolo D’Oro. Well, one of the palace servants had gone to great lengths to procure it. He had taken a rather leisurely breakfast during which he had checked his stocks and made sure that things were running smoothly back at his office in Manhattan.
“Your costume, Gabby,” he said.
Had she been an owl he was certain that at the moment her feathers would have been ruffled. “It isn’t very flattering.”
“Well, neither was the sweatshirt you were wearing when we met yesterday. But that did not seem to stop you from wearing it.”
“I was having a day at home. I had been sitting in the library reading.”
“Naturally.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You look like the type. That’s all.”
She shifted slightly, her frown deepening. “Yes, I suppose so. But I’m not entirely lacking in vanity. This...” She indicated the black dress pants, tapered closely to her skin—much more closely than he had anticipated—and the white blouse she was wearing, complete with a large pin that should have looked more at home on her grandmother than on her, but managed to look quite stylish. “This is not the kind of thing I’m used to wearing in public.”
She didn’t look like a princess—that much was true. But the outfit was not actually unflattering. The outfit was very nearly fashionable, albeit in a much lower-rent way than she was no doubt used to looking.
“What exactly is the problem with it?”
“The pants are very tight.”
“Their most redeeming feature in my opinion.”
He was rewarded with another of her blushes. “I do not like to draw attention to my body.”
“Believe me when I tell you this, Gabriella. You do not have to do anything to draw attention to your body. The very fact that it exists does draw attention to it.” He found it was true even as he spoke the words. He had not readily noticed her charms upon his arrival at the estate yesterday, but she was certainly not lacking in them. Her figure was not what was considered attractive these days. There was no careful definition of muscles earned through long hours in a gym. No gap between her thighs.
She was lush. Soft. Average-size breasts that were remarkable if only because breasts always were, a slender waist and generously rounded hips. Hips that were currently being flaunted by the pants she was complaining about.
“Oh. Well. That is... Was that a compliment?”
“Yes. It was a good compliment.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to receiving compliments from men.”
He found that hard to believe. She was a princess. Moreover, she wasn’t unattractive. Usually one or the other was enough. “Do you ever leave the estate?”
“In truth, not that often.”
“That must be your problem. Otherwise, I imagine you would be inundated with compliments. Sincere and otherwise.”
“Why is that?”
“Because. You have quite a few things men would find desirable.”
“Money.”
“That is certainly one of the things. Though right now you could easily pass for a personal assistant. Which is exactly what we are going for.” He took a seat in one of the plush armchairs and picked up the mug of coffee he had poured himself earlier.
“What are the other things?”
“Your body. And its various charms. I thought I made that clear.”
She frowned. He expected her to...well, to get angry. Or shrink up against the wall like all bookish virgins should do. Instead, she walked through the plane and took the seat opposite from him, crossing her legs at the ankles and folding her hands in her lap. “You’re very blunt.”
“Yes. I find it frightens people. Which I very much enjoy.”
“I’m not certain if I’m blunt in quite the same way you are. But I do tend to say whatever pops into my mind. Often it’s about something unrelated to the situation. That also seems to frighten people. Men specifically.”
“The reason you don’t receive many compliments?”
“My mother always told me to keep conversation to the topic of the weather. But we live on an island. Unless a hurricane or tsunami is threatening, the weather isn’t all that interesting.”
“That’s the point. A great many men prefer their women to be dull on the inside and shiny on the outside.”
