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Matteo hadn’t even heard his phone.
All his attention had been focused on the girl in the fountain.
And right now every muscle in his body was straining with the effort to resist the chemistry that pulled at them.
Izzy represented everything he avoided. Everything dangerous. Even more so since she’d admitted that getting him to notice her had been her Goal of the Day. His mood wasn’t improved by the realisation that had Serena arrived a moment later he would have been in that fountain with her. He hoped he would have had the willpower to simply drag her out of the water, but after what had happened between them the night before he wasn’t convinced.
‘Ask him to hold. I’ll take the call in my office.’ He snapped out the words and then immediately felt guilty because the beam of anger should have been directed at the girl in the fountain, not Serena, and once again he was going to be forced to apologise.
His frustration mounting, he threw a furious glance at Izzy. ‘Get dressed and meet me in my office.’
She tried to pout but she was laughing too hard to pull it off. ‘That doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fun.’
Matteo glared at her. ‘Do it.’
Then he stepped over her picnic and strode past his gawking PA, past the watchful eyes of the stone lions that had been there since the sixteenth century but had doubtless never witnessed a scene like this, and into the rooms of the palazzo that had been converted into state-of-the-art offices.
Next time, he vowed, he’d leave trouble where he found it instead of bringing it home with him.
CHAPTER FOUR
IZZY fidgeted on the elegant chair. Her damp hair cooled her bare neck and shoulders and a few blades of grass had stuck to her feet and now niggled uncomfortably inside her espadrilles.
The offices were bright and light, the reception area filled with towering plants and modern paintings. A contrast to all the ancient history around them.
This was supposed to be a holiday, but she felt restless and full of repressed energy. Her plan had failed so now she needed to rethink. It didn’t feel right sitting here doing nothing when her goal was still so far out of reach. She should be planning. Writing more songs.
But it was hard writing a song without a piano.
Her foot tapped the floor impatiently and she wondered how long he was going to keep her sitting here.
‘His Royal Highness will see you now.’ It was the woman who had come to fetch him at the fountain. Elegant. Not a hair out of place. Not a single crease in her suit.
Feeling seriously underdressed in her denim shorts and T-shirt with Crazy Girl picked out in sequins, Izzy silently admired her poise. ‘So, is he furious? Am I dead?’
The woman stood stiff for a moment and then her eyes slid to the door of the office, which was half closed. ‘I’ve never seen him lose his temper,’ she whispered, ‘and I’ve worked for him for two years. What have you done to him?’
‘Driven him mad. It’s my special gift.’ Izzy stood and walked towards the door. Bracing herself for conflict, she paused for a second and then knocked and entered.
The prince was seated behind the desk, his eyes on the computer screen.
He looked sleek, spectacularly good-looking and completely out of her league, and Izzy’s heart bumped hard against her chest.
Whatever faults he might have, there was no denying that the man was truly gorgeous. Seriously hot. Even more so now she’d had a glimpse of what he was hiding under that formal suit.
A different suit, she noticed.
He’d changed.
She wondered what he’d look like in jeans and then deci
ded that he’d probably look spectacular in anything. Or nothing.
Seeing him behind the large desk, formidable in every way, it was almost impossible to believe that this same man had kissed her the night before. For a fleeting second she’d felt raw, untamed passion and the contrast between that man and the restrained, controlled man she was viewing now was startling and puzzling.
In his own time he lifted his gaze and the glint in those eyes reflected her inner turmoil right back at her. ‘Sit down.’ He radiated control and authority and Izzy stood rigid, feeling like a schoolgirl called to the headmaster’s office.
‘It was just a few drops of water, for goodness’ sake.’ She didn’t mention last night’s kiss. He was in a bad enough mood without mentioning another of her transgressions. Or was it his transgression? He’d kissed her, hadn’t he? And there had been nothing soft or romantic about it. His mouth had been rough and demanding, as if—
