Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (25 page)

Kelly frowned and accepted the paper.
 
“My gosh.
 
This was written by your mother?
 
By Queen Fabrizia?”

“She’s a list maker.”

“She likes to keep things in order.
 
And she has beautiful handwriting.”
 
Kelly’s fingers ran over the page as if she were stunned to be holding a note written by the queen herself.
 
On an exhale, she handed the page back to him.
 

“You’d be doing me a big favor, Kelly.”

Their eyes met as she contemplated an answer.
 
“But—aside from redirecting gossip—why me?
 
You could hire anyone.
 
I don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure.”

“So you don’t want to tour the island while you work?”

The eye roll she gave him was well-deserved.
 
“You know what I meant.”

“I do.”
 
He couldn’t resist teasing her.
 
Other than for a few minutes while she’d savored the bliss of midday pancakes, she’d been far too serious since arriving in the palace.
 
He craved the relaxed Kelly, the Kelly who’d enjoyed Giulia's patio as she drank her Prosecco and told him about her life back home in Dallas.
 
When they’d shared thick wheat crackers and decadent cheeses and stared out at the sunset and local fishermen, or she’d when grinned and rubbed Gaspare’s head in the Jeep.
 
Before she knew she had a financial headache awaiting her back at the villa.
 

Before they’d slept together.
 
Before he knew about Ted.
 
Before she knew he was a member of the royal family.

She had a point.
 
Working for him after what they experienced last night wasn’t a typical morning after arrangement.
 
Then again, the experience might not have affected her the way it affected him.
 

“Look,” he finally said, “given what you’ve told me about your ex-fiancé, I suspect you agreed to go to dinner with me because you needed a fling.
 
That I was nothing more than your rebound guy.
 
A night of phenomenal sex.”

“Says the man who just got back from an Army stint and wanted to get laid?”

Even though she’d delivered the response in a smooth, even voice, her words set him back a step.
 
He deserved the insult—and he did consider it an insult, given the intensity of what they’d shared—considering that he’d just accused her of the same thing.

What he hadn’t expected was for her observation to twist his gut so painfully.
 
Because when he’d called himself her rebound guy, it was because a deep, needy part of him wanted her to say,
no, what we had was more special than that
or
no, I could never see you that way.
 

Instead, she confirmed his worst fear.
 
He was completely disposable to her.
 
Never in his life had a woman dismissed him so easily and, frankly, it stung.

“Touché.”
 
He said it with a grin, because God forbid he let her know that he was foolish enough to believe the Earth moved beneath them last night.
 
“In which case, there’s nothing stopping you from taking the job, is there?”

“Maybe.
 
Maybe not.”
 
After giving the closet another once-over, she squared her focus on him once more.
 
“You didn’t really answer my question.
 
Given that you could hire anyone for this job, why me, Massimo?
 
What’s in it for you if you’re not getting sex out of the deal?”

* * *

Kelly kept her hands to her sides, hoping to hide the fact she shook.
 

He really thought he was a rebound guy.
 
Granted, she’d even told herself Massimo was her reward when he’d shown up in front of her on the beach in that ab-tastic thin shirt, but her attitude toward him changed as they’d spent the evening at Giulia's.
 

Apparently, his attitude toward her had not.
 
He’d all but confirmed that he considered her a one-night stand and nothing more.

She’d be insane to take the job, even if it solved problems for them both.
 
He was too great a temptation.
 

But if he didn’t want to sleep with her, why in the world did he really want her in his apartment?
 
Working all of about twenty feet from his
bed
?
 
It was all she could do to appear cool as she awaited his answer.

He merely shrugged.
 
“It saves me having to hunt for anyone else and deal with interviews.
 
Plus, if the press discovers I came to the jail for you, being able to say that you’re working here makes us both look good.
 
I went to help the woman who found my dog, just as I explained to the police, then I ended up hiring her for a position at the palace—at the same time I made several other hires, of course—because, out of sheer luck, she happened to have the perfect qualifications for the job opening.
 
Anyone who researches you will see how successful you were in Dallas.
 
Right?”

“They would.”
 
Several Dallas newspapers and the local business journals covered the sale of her company.
 
Prior to that, she’d been profiled in
D Magazine
and interviewed by several Dallas and Fort Worth radio stations about closet organization and design.
 
A quick Internet search would pull up that information, and all of it made her look extremely well-qualified for the job Massimo now offered.

“Good.
 
It makes a much better story for us than if the press runs with the idea I went to bail out a woman with whom I’d enjoyed a fling.
 
It’s simple, it all checks out, you look good, I look good.
 
And there’s no scandal to give the story legs.”

Her throat constricted.
 
Okay.
 
Maybe she’d be insane
not
to take the job.
 

“What’s your usual rate?” he asked.
 
“While we were out in the Jeep, my staff budget was delivered.
 
I’m confident we can come to an arrangement that will enable you to cover the cost of your tours as well as adequately compensate you for your services.”

“I usually base it on the number of hours the project will require, plus materials.
 
I don’t know what materials might cost here in Sarcaccia, though, or what you might want.
 
We’d need to discuss that.
 
At a minimum, you’d need to replace the hang rods.
 
They’re splintered.”

“We both know it’s a bigger job than that.”
 
He named a figure that blew her mind.
 
“Will that cover it, you think?
 
Of course, I would also provide you with the services of a carpenter.
 
Given the age of the building, we keep a few on salary.
 
They do excellent finish work, so you wouldn’t need to account for that in your budget.”

She couldn’t contain her laughter.
 
Could he really be that naive about costs?
 
And to have a carpenter who could do custom work, rather than using premade cabinets and shelving?
 
Unreal.
 

“What?
 
Am I that far off the mark?”

“Unless shelving and hang rods run triple the price of what the most expensive custom work does in the States, yes.
 
What you’re offering is an astronomical budget.”

“If I paid you that amount as a flat fee, would it give you enough to cover your tours?
 
And would the time be sufficient for you to both see the island and do the closet?”

 
“It’s enough time and more than enough money.
 
And that’s assuming you want a total gut job on the closet.
 
Massimo, if I charged that at home, it’d be highway robbery.”

His face split into a wide smile, one that sent her heartbeat into overdrive against her will.
 
“You’re saying yes.”

“At that fee?
 
Heck yes, I’m saying yes.”
 
She could handle being around him for two weeks, she rationalized.
 
If anything, maybe cleaning out the man’s closet and refurbishing it would put a damper on the insane attraction she felt for him.
 
Nothing like sorting a bunch of old skivvies to kill a woman’s libido.

Except she knew that wouldn’t be the case.
 
He was a living, breathing sex god, and she’d find him attractive even if he had a stash of pink and purple striped, ratty underwear lurking in those boxes, though she knew he wouldn’t.
 

But it beat going back to Dallas with her tail between her legs and having to explain to her family and friends why she’d returned so soon.
 
This way, she could return with a surprise boost to her resume, enough money to live on while she recouped her money from Ted, and the sightseeing experiences she’d dreamed about when she booked the trip in the first place.

“Fantastic.
 
How soon can you start?
 
What do you need from me?”

She blinked, then took another look around the closet.
 
“Well, I can start today.
 
The question is when
you
can start.
 
I can empty this out and get measurements and offer some design suggestions.
 
But I’ll need you to either sort through these boxes with me or give me a quick, general list of what needs to go, what can stay, and what can be donated.
 
My rule of thumb is that if you haven’t used or worn something in a calendar year, it needs to either go or be donated.
 
For special occasion wear, I’ll give you three years.
 
Anything sentimental needs to be marked as such—say you have a hat that you never wear, but that belonged to your favorite uncle—so we can keep them.
 
Oh, and I’ll need to set up a meeting with the carpenter.
 
That will give me a better sense of their timeline and what materials and options are available here in Sarcaccia for the actual design.”

He looked at her in admiration.
 
“You get right down to business.”

“It’s how I stayed in business.”
 
She couldn’t help the pride in her voice.
 
“I’m efficient and I try to make the process as easy and predictable as possible for my clients.”

“All right.”
 
He let out a breath and backed out of the closet.
 
“Let me arrange for the carpenter and pull together a general list of what’s in the closet.
 
There’s very little I want to keep, so it won’t take me long.
 
In the meantime, I’ll call the head housekeeper for this wing and have her show you to your rooms.
 
You can take a nap and make any calls you need to in order to straighten out your finances.
 
We can meet back here around four-thirty.
 
Sound like a plan?”

“Works for me.”

“In that case” —he extended his hand toward her— “Kelly Chase, I’m glad to have you working here at the palace.”

His handshake was cool and professional, but she could swear she caught a spark of attraction in his gaze before he broke contact and went to dial the housekeeper.

Chapter Fifteen

He needed his head examined.

Massimo stretched his arms overhead and yawned, then reluctantly returned his attention to the thick stack of papers and shiny brochures that had been delivered to his suite over the course of the afternoon.
 
His sister sent over the profiles of three stylists along with her personal comments about who might work best with Massimo given what she knew of them.
 
Briefs on political, economic, and charitable issues involving the royal family arrived from both his father’s and his mother’s offices.
 
His mother followed up less than an hour later by offering once again to have advisers update him verbally if that would be easier than wading through the briefs.
 
Massimo glanced at the towering pile of documents and weighed reading them against feigning interest while listening to the endless drone of a policy wonk.
 
He doubted there was a right choice.
 
Either would require a fistful of aspirin.

On the bright side, Vittorio had called and offered the services of his own personal assistant until Massimo hired an assistant of his own, saying she’d be happy to arrange Massimo’s schedule and set up the interviews for him, a thankless task for which he planned to send her a generous bouquet of flowers.
 
Then, of course, Vittorio asked again about Kelly.
 
Massimo kept his response nonchalant, telling Vittorio he’d fill him in later, in person.
 
By that point, perhaps there’d be progress on the closet and Vittorio would let the issue rest.