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‘Why do you assume I have a sob story?’
‘A prince who doesn’t believe in happy endings? Something must have gone wrong in your fairy tale.’ The temptation to reach out and touch him was almost overwhelming. She was fascinated by the brief glimpse of bronzed skin at the neck of his shirt. ‘So what happened, Your Highness? You loved her too much? Not enough? She broke your heart? You broke hers?’
The change in him was instantaneous.
It was as if he’d slammed the door in her face.
‘You need to go to bed.’ His voice was raw and her heart turned over with a yearning for the impossible.
‘So you prefer meaningless relationships.’
‘That’s what I do, and I do it well.’
She was absolutely sure he’d do it supremely well and just the thought of it made her knees weak. His fingers were still touching her cheek and she willed him to slide his hand behind her head and bring his mouth down on hers.
‘What if I told you I prefer meaningless relationships too?’
‘I’d know you were lying.’ There was a long silence and then he breathed deeply and stepped back from her. ‘Buonanotte, Izzy. Go to bed and dream of happy endings because that’s all they are. Dreams. In the morning we’ll see what we can do about that other dream of yours.’
CHAPTER SIX
IN THE end she dreamed of princes. Or rather, of one prince in particular. But her dreams didn’t involve marriage. Instead she was singing live at the Rock ‘n’ Royal concert in front of millions of people and the prince was trying to drag her off the stage. Her red sequined dress split under the strain and she was left standing naked in front of half the world.
Relieved to wake up, Izzy dragged herself to the bathroom to splash her face and clear her head.
Any relationship between us would be bound to end in heartbreak.
He was right.
She’d known him for less than three days and she’d woken up thinking of him rather than her daily goal. That had to be a bad thing.
As she pulled on a turquoise skirt and strappy top she’d bought specially for the holiday, she tried to focus on the fact that one of the hottest artists in the US was going to sing her song.
This was her dream, wasn’t it?
Well, half her dream. It was her song, even if she wasn’t the one singing it.
She should have been dancing with excitement, instead of which she just kept thinking about how his mouth had felt on hers.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed when there was a tap on the door and one of the prince’s household staff entered.
‘His Royal Highness has asked for you to go straight to the helipad, signorina. The helicopter is waiting.’
‘Helicopter?’ Izzy’s stomach flipped. He was sending her home. He’d decided it wasn’t a good idea having her here and he didn’t even have the guts to tell her himself.
Under the sick disappointment, anger fizzed. He had his song and now he wanted her out of the way. Determined to keep her dignity, she stood. ‘It’s going to take me five minutes to pack my things. I’ll be down in a minute.’
The man gave her an apologetic look. ‘His Highness was most insistent that you leave immediately, signorina.’
So he wanted her out of here so fast he wasn’t even going to let her pack.
Feeling really fed up and angry, she followed the man to the helipad and boarded the helicopter, furious with herself for feeling the hot sting of tears.
‘Buongiorno,’ the prince’s deep, sexy voice greeted her from the helicopter, and Izzy was thrown because she hadn’t expected him to be there in person and she’d spent the past few minutes building him up into a monster in her head.
He handed her a helmet. ‘Put this on.’
The fury in her died as she met his eyes. She didn’t want to leave. ‘It’ll ruin my hair,’ she muttered, ‘do I have to?’
