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For a moment he thought he saw a sheen of tears glaze her eyes. Then she blinked.
‘I did. I wrote the song.’ And before he had time to react she twisted her arm from his grip and vanished out of the door.
Arrogant, judgemental, annoying—boiling with fury, Izzy sprinted back over the grass towards the palazzo, grateful for the dark. So much for lifting her mood by singing. Not only had a man she lusted after more than she’d ever lusted after a man before seen her looking her worst, she’d completely embarrassed herself.
The irony of it made her want to scream.
She’d planned every second of her performance at the engagement party in an attempt to gain his attention. She’d chosen her red sequin dress with care. She’d spent hours on her
make-up. And he’d finally listened when she was dressed in her pyjamas, barefaced and singing to herself in the dark. She’d spent her life on the lookout for opportunities, and when one had finally come she hadn’t been ready for it.
Furious with herself and not exactly understanding why, Izzy carried on running until she reached the side door of the palazzo. She sprinted up the elegant curving staircase to her turret bedroom and slammed the door shut.
It opened immediately and Matteo strode into the room without knocking.
Izzy turned like a cornered animal.
‘Get out of here.’
He ignored her and slammed the door shut just as she had. Only he was on the inside. And she was still in her pyjamas, her heart pounding.
‘You don’t want to come near me right now because frankly I am so angry with you I might hit you!’
He planted his legs firmly apart, the stance telling her that he wasn’t budging. ‘You wrote that song? Is that the truth?’
‘Do I get thrown in the dungeons if I punch you?’
He didn’t smile. ‘I can’t believe you wrote it.’
‘Because I’m a talentless loser?’ Feeling naked and exposed, Izzy wanted to grab a cardigan but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he unsettled her. And truthfully she wasn’t sure a cardigan was going to solve the problem. The vulnerability she felt was beneath the surface.
‘Because that song is incredible,’ he said in a thickened tone. ‘And I did not at any point call you a loser.’
Izzy found it difficult to breathe.
He thought her song was incredible?
A strange buzzing feeling started in her head and suddenly she felt light-headed.
He thought her song was incredible.
The prince lifted an eyebrow. ‘Are you going to say something?’
Izzy opened her mouth and closed it again without speaking.
He gave a sardonic smile. ‘You go to extreme lengths to get me to hear you sing. If what you’re telling me is the truth then you elbowed your way onto the stage with the precise intention of gaining my attention. And now you have my attention, you are mute?’
Izzy’s mouth was dry. ‘You really think my song is incredible?’
‘Yes.’
The pounding turned to a rapid tattoo. As his words sank into her stunned brain, Izzy burst into tears.
Consternation flared in his eyes and he spread his hands in disbelief. ‘Why are you crying? I am complimenting you.’
‘That’s why I’m crying,’ Izzy sobbed, horrified by her loss of control but unable to stop it. ‘No one ever compliments me. I’m not used to it.’ Her breathing hiccoughed and she wiped her cheek on her shoulder. ‘Sorry. Sorry. It’s just … you don’t understand how hard I’ve worked to get people to take me seriously—’
‘I’m starting to get an idea.’ His eyes gleamed dark with a mixture of disbelief and incredulity. ‘You look a mess, Izzy Jackson.’
