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She chose a simple outfit of jeans, crisp white shirt and a smart navy-blue blazer, teamed with a pair of mid-heeled boots. She felt comfortable, confident, and happy—until she saw the royal chauffeur, standing by the side of the big royal limousine. The imposing black vehicle flying the crimson and gold flag of Fabrizio on its bonnet, above a shield that displayed Luca’s royal house in images of a lion, a rearing black stallion and a mandolin, was a real punch between the eyes, reminding her that Luca was a royal prince with all the money, power, and influence he could ever wish for, while she couldn’t even get a job.
The chauffeur stood proudly to attention as Luca appeared at the door of the aircraft. He ushered her ahead of him. She felt exposed. The blazer and jeans didn’t seem enough somehow now that Luca had changed into a smart, dark linen sui
t with a pale blue open-necked shirt. If he’d looked stunning before, he looked like a prince now. Then, she thought, Stand tall, you’ve got as much right as anyone else to fall down the steps of an aircraft.
‘Take my arm,’ Luca directed, making sure she didn’t have another accident.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, thinking he would not want to be seen with her in a way that could compromise him.
‘Of course, so long as you give it back,’ he said.
Lifting a brow as he stared at her, Luca made her laugh.
Turned out, it wasn’t so hard, this royal business. Luca’s humour helped. She smiled. The chauffeur smiled back. He saluted as he opened the door of the fabulous royal limousine, and she thanked him when he saw her safely inside.
‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Luca demanded as the chauffeur closed the door, enclosing them in the heavy silence Callie was fast becoming used to in these luxury vehicles.
‘Not bad at all,’ she admitted. ‘Why are you doing that?’ she asked when he lowered the privacy screen.
‘Because I want you.’
Luca was as blunt as she was. Reaching across the wide expanse of soft cream kidskin, he dragged her onto his lap. ‘You should have chosen a dress.’
‘Luc—’ She was about to protest, but he cut her off with a blistering kiss, and at the same time his hand found her. ‘Oh, no,’ she groaned, yielding to the inevitable as she opened her legs a little more. ‘Oh, no?’ he queried. ‘Does that mean you want me to stop?’
‘Don’t you dare,’ she whispered, rubbing her still-tender lips against his sharp black stubble. ‘I wish I’d chosen a dress too.’
‘I’m sure we can manage,’ Luca said as his fingers worked deftly on the fastening at her waist. ‘It’s not as if we’re stuck for space.’
‘But do we have time?’ she asked as he pulled off her jeans and she pulled off her jacket, this time remembering to fold it neatly.
‘Enough time,’ Luca ground out. ‘Now your thong?’ he suggested, settling back to watch.
‘What about your clothes?’
‘What about my clothes?’ Lowering his zipper, he freed himself, proving he was more than adequately prepared. Reaching out, he brought her onto his lap. ‘Straddle me,’ he insisted, ‘and make it slow.’
She felt deliciously exposed with her legs widely spread, and deliciously excited when Luca’s hand found her. He was right about taking it slowly. She would never grow used to the size of him.
He felt so good. Linking her hands around his neck, she allowed him to guide her carefully down. He decided the pace, while she concentrated on sensation. She cried out with disappointment when his grip tightened on her buttocks, and he lifted her almost off him. Her cries of complaint brought a smile to his face, and he slowly lowered her again. Pressing down on her buttocks made sure that the contact between them was complete. And then he began to move. His hips thrust, sending him deep inside her, and he upped the tempo with each stroke until she could only bury her face in his jacket and wait for release. When it came it was incredible, and he knew just how to prolong it.
‘Better now?’ he asked quietly as she subsided into a series of soft, rhythmical sighs.
Callie lifted her head. ‘Is there time for more?’
With a soft laugh against her mouth, Luca obliged.
CHAPTER NINE
FABRIZIO WAS BEAUTIFUL and quaint, with winding cobbled streets, and tree-filled parks at every turn. People waved and cheered when they saw the royal car, and Luca lowered the window when Callie was dressed again, so he could wave back. His timing, as always, was impeccable. She had caught her first sight of his fabulous palace when they were a few miles away. Surrounded by ancient city walls, the royal palace of Fabrizio sat atop a hill from where the defenders of old could see their enemies coming for miles around. It was the most beautiful building she had ever seen with a grandeur that even his palazzo in Amalfi couldn’t match. Where that had been wedding-cake pretty, this was royal splendour cast in stone, wrought iron and stained glass. When the royal limousine drew up in front of a wide sweep of stone steps, Luca helped her out of the car and then left her in the care of his housekeeper and a maid, while he hurried off into the building.
Having crossed an exquisite hall, full of shields and swords and ancient portraits, Callie was taken up a sweeping staircase to the first level where she was shown into the most beautiful light and airy apartment. Knowing it would be hers for the duration of her stay was just incredible. The delicately decorated French furniture, the Aubusson rugs yielding softly underfoot, the twinkling glass and antique ornaments, the gilded mirrors—what was she doing here?
She thanked the stiffly formal housekeeper and the maid tasked with looking after her. Waiting until the door closed behind them, she headed for the unbelievably beautiful bathroom to take a shower in an enclosure big enough to house an entire rugby team. There was every conceivable type of potion, cream and bath foam, not in their original containers, but in the most exquisite cut glass jars and jugs. Lifting the fragile lid on one of these, she inhaled deeply. And sneezed. She was a little bit allergic to scent. But not to Luca’s scent, Callie reflected wryly as she turned full circle to admire the pink-veined marble walls. What was he doing now? she wondered as she glanced at the internal telephone. She didn’t want him to think her desperate. Let him call her, she decided. Please.
There was no such thing as the hot water running out at the palace. She basked in the luxury of heat and fragrant scent until she felt thoroughly clean, cosy, and fresh again. Then she donned a fluffy robe and wondered what to do about clothes. Pushing her feet into slippers she found ready in the bathroom, that matched the robe, she returned to the bedroom with its panelling and paintings, and floating silk voile, drifting romantically in front of the open window. She suddenly felt incredibly homesick and reached for her phone. What she needed was someone down to earth to confide in, someone she could trust to act as an honest sounding board. Ma Brown answered on the first ring.
