Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (23 page)

She didn’t hesitate.
 
“Deal.”

* * *

Despite the gnawing in her belly, a full twenty minutes elapsed before Kelly exited the bathroom.
 
Once she’d rolled her suitcase into the quiet, cozy powder room and spied the fluffy towels and washcloths hanging beside the porcelain sink, the compulsion to put herself completely to rights took hold.
 

Fresh clothes, a quick scrub, and a thorough toothbrushing went a long way toward making her feel human again.
 
Applying makeup and combing out her hair did the rest.
 
When noises from the main room reached her ears, quickly followed by the scent of fresh pancakes, she abandoned the suitcase and cautiously approached the main room.
 
When she poked her head out of the hall, Massimo was alone—save for Gaspare, who lay beside one of the room’s two sofas—and busy removing dishes from a covered trolley and arranging them on the coffee table.
 
He hadn’t said as much, but given the speed with which he’d walked her from the Jeep to his suite, she wondered if Massimo wanted her presence at the palace kept quiet for the time being.

“Breakfast is here,” he said, waving for her to come out.
 

The sight of him standing in the center of the room left her speechless.
 
While she’d pulled herself together, so had he, and the difference in his appearance was astounding.
 
The scruff covering his jaw had been shaved away, his hair was damp from a shower, and he’d changed clothes.
 
A pair of well-fitted black slacks highlighted his long legs while an olive green shirt made his eyes pop against his Mediterranean complexion.
 
Unlike the casual shoes he’d worn to dinner, the pair he now sported were made of high-quality leather with exquisite construction.
 
She might not be in the fashion industry, but she knew well-made accessories.
 
Even his belt, simple and clean as it was, made it clear he came from money.
 
A
lot
of money.
 

It wasn’t the clothes that transformed him, though.
 
His demeanor seemed different now that he stood in the royal palace looking as refined and polished as any business mogul or head of state.
 

I made love to a real prince last night.

Until now, the reality of his identity hadn’t sunk in.
 
Seeing him like this left her flailing for words.
 
How did one talk to a prince?

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a dining table of any kind,” he said.
 
“I’m supposed to hire a decorator, but haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

As tempting as Massimo himself appeared, her attention drifted to the trolley, which stood a few feet in front of him.
 
Warmed butter, hot syrup, and an assortment of jellies filled its surface.
 
Needing something to do, she carried them to the table, where Massimo had set out two large stacks of pancakes and silverware.
 
A carafe of hot coffee and a selection of creamers and sweeteners were already in place, as were two chilled glasses of orange juice.
 
Her mouth watered at the array.
 
“You don’t sound too excited about the prospect of redecorating.”

“Even I know this place needs a face lift, but I want it done without having to actually do it.”

“You sound like every one of my clients,” she said as she read the label on one of the jelly jars.
 
“I tell them that’s why they’re hiring me.
 
To save themselves headaches.”

He waved for her to take a seat on one sofa as he stepped past Gaspare to sit on the other, across the coffee table from her.
 
“This isn’t the most comfortable or practical way to eat, but I’m too hungry to care.”

“If you don’t care, then I don’t.”
 
Frankly, she’d eat off the floor right now.
 

With plates in their laps, they dove in.
 
For several minutes, neither said anything, each of them too intent on satisfying their need for sustenance.
 
Once Massimo polished off half his pancakes and was pouring himself a second cup of coffee, he said, “When you wake up thinking about breakfast, you sure do it right.
 
This hits the spot.”

His mention of their time spent in her bed sent a flame of embarrassment through her again, though she knew that wasn’t what he intended.
 
“I only wish we could’ve had this six or seven hours ago.”
 
She stole a look at him in between sips of her own coffee.
 
Never had coffee tasted so divine as it crossed her palate.
 
“Again, I’m sorry for everything that happened this morning.”

“Water under the bridge.
 
The question is what you’ll do next.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.”
 
She set her coffee cup on the table.
 
“Having coffee and some quality carbs helps.”

“Told you we needed to prioritize food,” he said before taking another syrup-drenched bite, then murmuring his pleasure as he withdrew the tines of the fork from between his lips.
 

She tore her gaze from his mouth. “While I no longer have the villa, I do have my plane ticket home.
 
I hadn’t thought about it earlier, but I can contact the airline to see if I can switch to one that leaves sooner.”

“You’d cut short your vacation?”

She didn’t have much choice, did she?
 
“The island isn’t going anywhere, so it’s not as if I can’t return.
 
Maybe even next summer.”
 
Forcing a smile, she told him it was all for the best.
 
“I can use the time to find a temporary job in Dallas that’ll tide me over until I get my money back and get started on my next business.”

After taking a long drink of her orange juice, she cut another triangle of pancake and forked it into her mouth.
 
Whoever cooked for the palace had a way with pancakes.
 
These were phenomenal.
 
“Besides,” she said once she swallowed, “if I know I have a future beach vacation lined up, I’ll have incentive to eat healthy so I can rock a bikini next year.”

“You rocked a bikini plenty this year.”

Her face heated.
 
“Well, if I did, it’s not because I’ve been living on pancakes like these.
 
Or on Giulia's food.”

Amusement lit his face at that.
 
He watched her over his cup as he took a long, slow sip of his coffee.
 
Only a few bites remained of his pancakes, but she was sure they’d disappear soon.
 
Then
she’d
need to disappear.

Funny, as uncomfortable as it was to tell him about her financial woes—and as embarrassing as it was to admit to being duped by a former flame—she didn’t relish the thought of saying goodbye.
 
Even with the headache of the villa and the bank account, this turned out to be the most interesting trip she’d ever taken.
 

She was in a
palace
, for crying out loud.
 
Eating pancakes.
 
With a man who gave her the most mind-bending, full-body orgasms she’d ever experienced.
 

His cup clattered when he set it on its saucer.
 
“You’ve formulated a rather logical, straightforward plan for yourself.”

“Thank you,” she replied as she stabbed another bite.
 
“Told you I’d be fine.
 
Just needed time to think.”

“Oh, I didn’t say it as a compliment, though I do give you credit for being resourceful.”
 
He straightened, as if gearing up for a momentous announcement.
 
“Unfortunately, your oh-so-logical plan didn’t take me into consideration.”

She paused with a jelly-smeared wedge of pancake halfway to her mouth.
 

“You?”
 
Was he about to ask her to stay…for
him
?
 
Uncertain of his point, she simply raised her brows and ate the bite of pancake to buy herself some time.

Massimo moved his plate from his lap to the coffee table and steepled his fingers under his chin.
 
“Here’s the thing, Kelly.
 
I have a reputation to protect, too.
 
The fact I was present at the time of your arrest and paid your villa bill to get you out of jail is now public record.
 
So even if you do manage to rebook your flight—which may be a challenge, since it’s the busiest time of the year for our airport—it’s possible I’ll have questions to answer.
 
How do you think it’d look if you took the first available flight back to Texas?”

It’d probably make her look like she’d skipped out on a bill and suckered a prince into paying it for her, Kelly thought.
 
Or worse, that the prince was attempting to cover up a scandal.
 
On the other hand, she had no options if she stayed, not unless she lucked into a hostel or other inexpensive accommodation.
 
“You did tell the police that you were doing me a favor because I returned Gaspare to you.
 
So really, I’m the one who looks bad.
 
Not you.”

“That’s assuming no one digs deeper and discovers that the three of us—you, me, and Gaspare—were together at Trattoria Giulia the night before.
 
Because then it definitely looks like there’s more to the story.”

She fumbled for a response.
 
She hadn’t considered that angle.
 
“From what I saw of Giulia and Guillermo, they’d keep quiet if you asked.
 
And I doubt anyone would suspect that you spent the night at my villa…except possibly the two officers and the villa manager.
 
But the manager struck me as a dramatist.
 
Not entirely believable.”

“My brother Vittorio has already asked me about you.”

Shock rippled through her.
 
The
crown prince
?
 
The guy whose face she’d seen on a huge advertisement inside the airport welcoming her to the country?
 
“Does your brother know about…about us?
 
About—”
 

“No, no.”
 
He waved a hand in dismissal.
 
“Not about
that
.
 
But Vittorio somehow knew about my visit to the police station.
 
He texted me while you were on the phone with your bank and asked about you.
 
I told him exactly what I told the police.
 
You found my dog, I wanted to express my gratitude.
 
End of story.
 
But if he’s asking questions about why I was at the station, others may be asking, too.
 
It would only take a bit of gossip in the wrong ear to lead to Giulia’s.
 
What I’d rather do is guide gossip in a different direction.
 
One that makes both of us look good.”

Deliberately, she set her fork to the side of her plate and looked at him.
 
“What do you mean?”

“While you were changing clothes—and that’s a fantastic dress, by the way—I did some thinking of my own.”
 
To her surprise, a smile lifted one side of his mouth and brought out the dimple in his cheek.
 
“How would you like to stay the full length of your vacation time, take the tours you had planned, and have all the money to pay for it?”

She had one guess where he was heading with this, and she didn’t like it.
 
“You know I’d love to.
 
But I’m not going to take a loan from you under any—”

“Not a loan.
 
A job.”

Chapter Fourteen

Kelly paused, her mouth agape.
 
“A…you want to offer me a
job
?”

He wanted to say,
yes, even though you have red jelly smudged in the same spot where I was certain you had chocolate an hour ago
.
 
Instead, he said, “Yes.
 
Look, I need you.
 
Or someone like you, if I can’t have you.
 
So why not?”

Shock registered in her large eyes.
 

He quickly clarified, “What I mean is, I need a closet organizer.
 
You need to earn money so you can finish your vacation.
 
Win-win.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

The dismissal was immediate, but her use of the word
ridiculous
made him even more convinced this was the right move.
 
His mother’s mention of a closet organizer planted the seeds of the plan in his head.
 
At first, he’d told himself the whole idea was ludicrous, that he was grasping at straws in order to spend more time with a voluptuous, fascinating woman, a woman who might shake up the routine of his day to day life in the palace.
 
But as he’d come to understand the gravity of her position—and his own, given the fact his name was in the police report—it started feeling less and less ludicrous and more practical for them both.