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By the end of the day all she wanted was a hot bath and a stiff drink. Unfortunately she had a state dinner with yet more dignitaries intent on sizing her up as a potential bride for some nameless royal. The thought only made her feel numb, for after a day of being virtually pummelled by shots on goal and Ben’s blatant rejection she had no more emotional reserves to feel anything else.
She hurried out while Ben was giving his farewell pep talk, grateful that Enrico was waiting. She slipped into the sumptuous leather interior of the car and closed her eyes, thinking only that she didn’t have to see Ben again until tomorrow.
She was wrong.
She’d just put the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.
‘Your Highness? Mr Jackson is downstairs.’
‘Mr Jackson?’ Natalia stared at her maid, Ana, in disbelief and more than a little dread. ‘He’s not expected.’
‘He asked to see you. He had something to discuss.’
Natalia pressed her lips together. What on earth could Ben have to say to her? She felt a flutter of fear, and another more dangerous one of hope. Ridiculous. Stupid. ‘Very well,’ she said crisply. At least she was dressed appropriately this time. Her armour. She glanced down at the column dress of turquoise silk, a collar of diamonds at her throat. Taking a deep, calming breath she headed downstairs.
* * *
Ben paced the small, elegant salon he’d been directed to when he’d arrived unannounced at the palazzo. Although the sentries at the door had not betrayed a flicker of surprise or unease, Ben still sensed that he’d seriously disturbed royal protocol by arriving so suddenly.
‘Their Royal Highnesses are hosting a dinner tonight,’ the master butler had told him with a hint of reproach.
‘This won’t take a moment. I need to discuss a few things about the princess’s volunteering duties,’ Ben had replied tersely.
Actually, that was a lie. Two lies. He didn’t know how long it would take, and he had no duties to discuss with Natalia. He didn’t know what he was going to say, only that he’d come here on instinct, or maybe just need. After a day of doing his best to ignore Natalia and yet always remaining achingly, agonisingly aware of her, he knew he had to do something. Say something. Maybe even tell the truth.
Except he didn’t even know what the truth was.
Ben let out a groan of angry frustration. Natalia had been right. He was scared. He hated feeling out of control, had organised his life so he never was. His childhood had been unsettled enough, with his parents together and then apart, his father with money and then without, the tabloids documenting every slip or stumble. Up and down, around and around, like a crazy out-of-control carousel, and Ben never felt like he knew what was going to happen.
Then he’d discovered football and thought he’d found a way to feel in control, to make his father and family proud. For a few short years he’d ridden that wave of success and accomplishment, and when it had been taken from him, he’d turned to business. He’d sought success and respect and he’d gained them. Earned them. And now he felt as if he were poised to lose it all, by falling in love with a woman who was beyond inappropriate, a woman with a history of scandals and affairs that rivalled his father’s. What on earth was he thinking? He couldn’t believe he’d even mentally formed the word love.
He didn’t want love. Didn’t trust it, didn’t need it. And he was not in love with Princess Natalia.
‘You wished to discuss something?’
Ben whirled around, blindsided by Natalia’s sudden appearance. She looked every inch the regal princess in a turquoise silk evening gown that managed to be elegant and modest while still making his palms itch with the need to touch her. Her eyes glittered and her chin was lifted haughtily.
She was on the defensive. Could he really blame her?
‘I wanted to talk to you.’
She arched one eyebrow, coldly incredulous. ‘I was with you all day, Ben. Is this really necessary?’ With one golden, slender arm she indicated the palazzo and everything it represented. ‘I’m afraid guests will be arriving at any moment.’
‘This won’t take long.’
She simply waited, leaving him tongue-tied. Damn. Why couldn’t he think of a single thing to say? Do? He wanted to kiss her again. Desperately. If he did, would she push him away?
‘Natalia…’ he began. ‘I’m sorry.’ She said nothing, and he shifted his weight, unbearably uncomfortable, wishing he hadn’t come. Natalia still didn’t speak. Then he decided he needed to do what he’d done when he played football. As a striker, he’d always been a straight player, no tricks, no clever moves. Just honest skill, raw talent driving the ball towards the goal. And that’s what he’d do now. ‘I know I hurt you when I pushed you away from me in the airplane.’
