Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance) (9 page)

“You didn’t seem to mind the night of the ball. I didn’t even have to snap my fingers.”

Her face grew warm as she heard the truth from his lips. “But you’re an entirely different person now.”

He lifted a brow. “So are you.”

“No. I’m the same person.” He lifted that damn brow again and she felt her cheeks grow warm once more. She hated how easily he could make her blush. “Yes, I gave you a different name. But the person I was then is the same person I am now.”

“I am the same person as well,” Vittorio replied wryly. “I even have the same name.”

“No, Vittorio. I don’t know this man you are now. You weren’t cruel when I met you before. Yes, you were seductive and I must admit I fell for your charm. But you would never have kept me here against my will, I’m certain of it.”

“That was before I discovered you’d lied to me. You seem to keep forgetting that fact.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she cried. “I told you I was sorry. If I could take it back I would. I wish I’d never agreed to help Birgitte. I wish I’d never met you.” Tears prickled her eyes. “I wish I could hate you!”

“Does it help to know I hate you?”

Mia lifted her chin, refusing to let him see how much it hurt to hear him say those words. “And yet you want me for your mistress?”

“I don’t have to like you to enjoy sex with you.” As if to prove it, Vittorio snaked his arm around her waist and yanked her to him. His erection pressed into her hip. “Even knowing that you lie without compunction, I am still hard for you. Even knowing you gave me hope and then snatched it away without guilt, I still want to bury myself in your heat.” He grasped the back of her neck. “And I hate you for making me want you still.”

He crushed his lips to hers, kissing her roughly. Mia knew she should pull away. Should slap his face and tell him not to touch her again. But instead, she fell into the kiss, melted against him and whimpered into his mouth. She was weak, so weak where he was concerned. Could she actually be considering his proposition?

Proposition? More like a demand.

But Mia couldn’t think anymore as she breathed in Vittorio’s scent, savored his familiar taste on her tongue. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer against his hot, hard body. The fingers gripping the nape of her neck squeezed as he changed the angle of his head, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth.

Then abruptly, he released her and pulled away. “See? We can have passion without an emotional involvement. That is best for everyone. Don’t you agree?”

He spoke so calmly, Mia would have thought he was unaffected by the kiss if she hadn’t felt his erection. If she didn’t see his chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing. She stepped away from him and walked across the room so he wouldn’t notice how hard she was breathing as well.

She didn’t like this man that he’d become. Which was the real Vittorio—the charming seductive man or the angry bitter one? Did it matter? The fact was that she brought out the worst in him and a part of her couldn’t blame him. She
had
lied to him. What she had thought was a harmless game had turned into a deception that ended up affecting them both greatly.

How could she have known he was anticipating a future with Birgitte? She wouldn’t bother to tell him she doubted her cousin would be interested in settling down with him, or any man. But then again, what did Mia know? Birgitte might just fall for his charm as she had. The possibility made her stomach twist.

“I need some air.” Mia stumbled past him and pulled apart the long gold drapes. Instead of windows, she discovered French doors that opened onto a small balcony. She flung open the doors and stepped out into the warm evening air. She grasped the stone railing and stared out into the darkness.

This was so like her first night in Mezzano, when she’d stood out on the patio off the ballroom. The stars still twinkled in the sky as they had that night. The lights from the surrounding towns still sparkled invitingly. The air was warm. The scent of the ocean was in the air. But nothing else was the same. She didn’t want to remember that magical night, not now when everything had changed.

Vittorio came up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She stiffened, even though she longed to melt against him. Instead, she called upon the cold–blooded, practical Stagatlandian part of her. She tightened her grasp on the rough stone rather than give in to the urge to cover his hand with hers.

“I’m not going to be your mistress, Vittorio.” She couldn’t. A mistress was a woman who traded her body for what she could get from a wealthy man. A mistress was a woman who was only good enough for sex. Not good enough for a commitment, a future. Mia knew she deserved more than that.

He buried his face in her hair, ran his lips along her neck. She shivered, bit back a whimper. “You will change your mind,” he whispered. For an instant, she wanted to believe the warmth, the seduction in his voice. She wanted to believe he actually wanted her.

She felt his erection ride the curve of her bottom and she couldn’t stop the instinctual rocking of her hips against him. Vittorio slid one hand beneath her sweater and moved up to cup her breasts. Her nipples tightened, prickled.

“Oh yes,” he murmured. “You will change your mind.”

Mia made herself pull away from him. “I won’t,” she said, even though she was not at all certain that wasn’t a lie.

Vittorio had that royal glare down pat. “Regardless, you will remain here until you produce the princess.”

Her face grew warm again, but this time it was with anger, not embarrassment. “So you are holding me for ransom? The princess is the price for my release?”

“No. As I explained earlier, you are here to stand in until the real thing appears.”

Tears sprang to Mia’s eyes and she whirled around before he could see them. Mia had always been a poor second, shuffled aside to make room for her cousin. It had always been this way, ever since she was a child. Birgitte was the important one, the princess, the real thing.

“I don’t know where she is. I can’t magically make her appear.” Birgitte always went her own way, lived by her own time schedule. Even her parents had never been able to control her. As Vittorio must have discovered when he visited them in the palace the other day. If the king and queen couldn’t produce the princess, how could Vittorio expect Mia to do so?

“Do you not know how to get in touch with your cousin? You must have a way to communicate and plot your various deceptions.”

“You are an ass,” she ground out between gritted teeth.

“But I am not a liar,” he replied smoothly.

She had never before felt the desire to throw something. She wondered how valuable the vase on that side table was. Maybe she would barely miss his head. Then again, maybe she would hit it straight on. “If the goons you sent to kidnap me had given me time to collect my things, I would have my cell phone. I could call her if I had it.”

Vittorio nodded and turned on his heel. He crossed the room, opened a drawer in an ornate dresser and pulled out her purse. “Is your phone in here?”

She frowned, studied it through narrowed eyes. “Rico didn’t give me time to collect anything.” One of the other goons must have gotten it while she’d been in the headmistress’s office with Rico.

“They packed a bag for you as well.”

“What? They were in my house? They went through my stuff? My clothes?” Anger flared when she thought of them pawing through her drawers. “What right did they have to do that?”

“You would rather have nothing of yours here?” Vittorio slowly approached and stopped in front of her. “You will call your cousin and then you will stay here until she appears.” He handed her the purse.

“I’ll call her, but then I demand to be taken home.”

He merely smiled. She pulled out her cell phone and called her cousin. When she got voice mail—of course, she got voice mail—she left a message. “Hey, it’s me. Give me a call as soon as you get this message. We have to talk.” She tossed the phone back into her purse and set it on the bed. “That’s all I can do.”

“It appears the princess does not wish to be found,” he growled. “Does she often disappear like this?”

Mia shrugged. “When she wants to.” Birgitte had always been selfish like that. “Are you having second thoughts about your potential bride?”

“No.” He shrugged out of his shirt and her eyes were drawn to his bare chest, to the olive skin covering sculpted muscles, to the light sprinkling of hair across his pecs, traveling down his abs and narrowing to a thin line that disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. “It doesn’t matter. The marriage will be a business arrangement.”

That was so sad. If they married each other, neither Vittorio nor Birgitte would be able to find someone to love. They’d be trapped in a loveless marriage of convenience and she’d be… What would Mia be? Lost and lonely? Not much different than her life now. Her stomach clenched. Was that her future?

“So what now?” she demanded as she dragged her attention away from the direction to which her gaze had been drawn. “Are you going to keep me locked up in here until she appears?” She propped her fists on her hips and leaned forward, getting in his face. His handsome, stormy face. “Are you going to throw me in the dungeon? You must have a dungeon in the palace somewhere to hide away your enemies and kidnap victims.”

“You are being ridiculous.” His voice rumbled through the highly charged air surrounding them.

Her heart began to race but not from fear, not from his dark frown. “It’s probably in the dark and moldy cellar, right? I’ll bet it has rusty chains and hungry rats and a torture chamber.”

Vittorio grasped her shoulders with his long fingers and she wanted to sigh. “Now you are being childish.”

She shouldn’t have goaded him into touching her. A dangerous buzz grew under her skin. “Or, I know, maybe you’ll just keep me cuffed to the bed. Yes, that would be what you’d do to a woman who refuses to be your mistress, wouldn’t you? Keep her here at your mercy until—”

Vittorio crushed his lips to hers, silencing her. Devouring her. Mia opened to him, allowing his invading tongue to sweep into her mouth, drinking from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck because she simply couldn’t stop herself from doing so. Her brain was so overloaded with sensations, she forgot why she didn’t want to press up against his bare chest.

She savored the delicious shivers dancing over her body and Vittorio’s lips sliding along hers.

Soft knocking broke through the haze of arousal. Vittorio groaned and pulled away. She couldn’t decipher the expression on his face before he turned and strode through the suite to the door. Mia stepped into the doorway of the bedroom to see Tony lean in and speak softly to Vittorio.

Now that Vittorio’s body wasn’t pressed up against her, his scent not invading her senses, his taste not lingering on her tongue, Mia’s brain began to work again. How could she have melted against him like a weak, needy woman? Only minutes after refusing to become his mistress, she’d kissed him as if she wanted him to toss her on the bed and ravish her.

She did. Heaven help her, she wanted to throw her self-respect to the wind and agree to anything if it meant she’d be in his arms again.

If the situation were different, that is. If he wasn’t a prince. If she wasn’t a simple teacher. If he didn’t want to marry her cousin. If she didn’t want more from him than a few nights in his bed.

It was an impossible situation.

Vittorio returned to the bedroom. “Dinner will be here within in the hour,” he said stiffly, obviously wanting to ignore the hungry kiss they’d just shared. Obviously didn’t like the fact that he’d lost a little bit of his control as well. “Do you have something more appropriate to wear?”

Mia looked down at the sensible sweater and wool trousers she’d worn to the classroom that morning. She was not dressed for the warmer Mezzano weather, but she knew that was not what he was referring to. “I have no idea what your goons packed for me.” She refrained from rolling her eyes at the prince. “What do you deem appropriate, Your Highness?”

He frowned at her yet again. That was getting to be a habit. “Do you not have a dress suitable for dinner?”

“I am a mere commoner, Your Highness. I often eat dinner in the same clothing I wear to work. It may come as a surprise to you, but those of us who are not royalty usually do not have a separate dinner wardrobe.” She looked down at her slightly wrinkled outfit. It looked traveled in, but it was clean and well maintained. “I see nothing wrong with what I am wearing now. I see no need to change into another outfit.”

“Very well.” His hot gaze swept over her. “You can simply take off those clothes and dine naked with me. It is what a proper mistress would do.”

“I’m not going to eat with you naked,” she snapped. “And as you are well aware, I am not going to be your mistress, proper or otherwise.”

Mia’s blue eyes flashed and Vittorio found himself fascinated by this woman who’d had the audacity to deceive him. He was surprised how much he enjoyed sparring with her. She had a quick mind and an even quicker tongue. His anger at her lies seemed to be fading as he spent more time with her, traded words with her, inhaled her sweet scent and remembered the way she had come apart in his arms.

He’d known she would not agree to dine with him in the nude but her reaction to his suggestion was all he’d hoped. “Change into fresh clothing at least,” he told her regally. “An elegant dress would be appreciated. You are dining with a prince, after all.”

“Right. A prince. I’m so impressed.”

“Are you actually rolling your eyes at a member of royalty?” he demanded, barely able to contain a smile.

She did it again. “I don’t even know if I have a dress here, Your Very Royal Highness. I did not pack my bag as you will surely remember. Do you know where my things are? I’ll have to check and see what your goons considered appropriate dress for dining with your oh-so-important personage.”

He reached out to take her hand but caught himself and shoved his hands into his pockets instead. He strode from the room. “Come.” He led her to a closet in the corner of the dressing room where her clothes had been hung before she’d been brought up here to wait for him.