His Royal Love-Child (3 page)

She didn’t want to be moved by his description, but her susceptible heart told her that
was
unique…particularly for a man like Marcello
Scorsolini
.

He put his hands on her
shoulders,
his thumbs brushing her collarbone in a way he knew made her shiver. “The only woman I want, the only woman I crave to touch and be touched by right now, is you.”

If he hadn’t tacked the
right now
on, his statement would have been perfect.

He crowded close to her until their bodies brushed. “You are the only woman I
want
to hold this close. Everything at the party was window dressing…it meant nothing. Believe me,
tesoro
. Please.”

The
please
did it. This man was not accustomed to begging.
For anything.
She had to be special to him, or he would have walked out when she started being difficult. Because he could have any woman he wanted…of that she was certain.
And
he made it clear he wanted only her.

“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.”