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“Damnit,” Anna said, her voice shaking.
Never mind thinking about what had happ
ened.
It was time to look forward.
And where were the jeans, the T, the sneakers she knew she’d packed? She always brought along stuff like that. Getting snowed in at an airport in upstate New York on a ski trip her senior year in law school had taught her two things.
One, she hated skiing.
Two, when you flew anywhere, you always had to pack something comfortable to wear.
And there were the things she’d been looking for, tucked on a shelf in the tiny hotel-room closet. Old jeans. Older sneakers. An ancient T-shirt that she positively adored.
Who wouldn’t?
This was not any T, it was the one Isabella had given her on her last birthday. It was vintage, from the 1970s. Isabella said she’d found it in a little shop in Soho. The shirt was gray and slightly faded, but the words that marched across the front of it read loud and clear.
A Woman Needs a Man Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle.
Truer words had never graced a T-shirt.
Anna took off the robe, pulled on a bra and panties, stepped into the jeans, zipped them up and tugged the shirt over her head.
The jeans rode low on her hips; the shirt was a little short.
She looked in the mirror. Her belly button showed. Maybe she’d get it pierced when she got home.
Too bad she hadn’t done it sooner. Then she’d be wearing the perfect outfit for Draco’s stuffy office because, of course, that was where he was taking her.
Did he think the formal setting would intimidate her?
The hell it would.
Neither would whatever he intended to say.
She wasn’t finished with this fight. There were courts here, just as there were back home, and Cesare had all the money she’d need for translators, lawyers, the works.
Plus, just as she’d warned Draco, there was the ever-voracious press. He was right—her father would not want the publicity. But who cared what Cesare wanted? He’d sent her here. How she handled things was her business.
Anna grabbed her purse.
Forget going home tomorrow. She would stay in Rome as long as it took to recoup her mother’s land.
She didn’t know how she’d pull it off, not yet, but she would.
After that, Prince Draco Marcellus Valenti could go straight to hell.
CHAPTER TEN
DRACO saw Anna the minute he pulled his car to the curb outside the hotel.
She was standing a few feet away, highlighted by the watery sun that had appeared after the rain, and he could see that she’d taken his advice.
No lady lawyer suit. No killer heels. She wore jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt. What did the shirt say? He squinted, read it … and knew he was in for a long day.
At least she looked like an average woman.
