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‘I’ll do my best.’ His low drawl played havoc with her nerve endings and as they walked up a narrow path towards the amphitheatre she gave herself a stern talking to.
She could not afford to be distracted by a man who had what it took to break her heart. It had been bad enough after Brian and he’d been a complete wimp.
‘So to answer your question, the amphitheatre wasn’t always in the middle of nowhere.’ His eyes were concealed by a pair of sunglasses, but with or without dark glasses he was a man who commanded attention. ‘There was originally a city here, but nothing remains now. It was built by an occupying Roman force to house their gladiatorial games.’ He continued to tell her about the history and she tried hard to be bored but instead she was fascinated. And so were the people around them when it gradually dawned on the throngs of tourists that they had royalty in their midst.
Apparently oblivious to the buzzing excitement created by his presence, he strode towards a group of men waiting by the main entrance to the amphitheatre. Watching the exchange, Izzy realised that his role in the project was far more than just that of a figurehead.
He talked briefly to someone he introduced as the technical director and then to the systems technician before guiding Izzy through a stone archway.
The sheer scope of the ancient building was breathtaking, the seating rising upwards from an oval arena that shimmered under the hot sunshine. It was all too easy to imagine the sweat and fear of the gladiators as they prepared to fight to the death in front of an enormous crowd.
Izzy shivered. ‘So they’re going to rehearse here tonight?’
‘Not a full technical rehearsal. They just want to try out some ideas. It is closed to the public from 6:00 p.m. this evening. The set construction and lighting rehearsals have taken place at an aircraft hangar at Santina Airport. Tonight they just want to play with some new ideas. The production manager and the lighting designer will be here soon.’
‘I’d never given any thought to how much planning goes into a rock concert.’
‘Lighting for this sort of live event is completely different from arenas or festivals.’ He kept the conversation formal but that didn’t alter the chemistry that pressed down on them like an invisible force. She noticed that he was keeping his distance. Not a casual distance that happened without thought, but a carefully contrived space, a deliberate barrier that emphasised the effort required to push back at what pulled them together.
‘And all the money goes to your charity?’ Izzy frowned. ‘So if you do all the charity stuff, what does Alex do? I mean, I know he’s the Crown Prince, but what does that mean?’
There was a long silence and Matteo stared across the arena. ‘It means that eventually he gets landed with it all. The throne and the responsibility.’
Izzy let out a long breath. ‘That’s pretty heavy. No wonder he’s enjoying his freedom. But presumably your parents think it’s time he came home and got on with doing prince stuff.’
His mouth flickered. ‘“Prince stuff” covers a broad range of activities.’
‘I’m starting to understand why the king and queen were welcoming to Allegra,’ Izzy murmured. ‘They think that if Alex is married, he’ll settle down and come home.’
‘They also think a royal wedding would be well received by the public.’
‘But the public love you because you spend your time raising tons of money for worthy causes.’ Having spent her life around selfish people and knowing that she was pretty self-centred herself, Izzy was humbled. ‘You do a lot for other people. I don’t do anything like that.’
‘I don’t have to earn a living. It’s different.’ He lifted his hand and brushed her hair away from her face.
Excitement shot through her and she wondered how such a simple gesture could have that effect on her. Her heart was banging against her chest and suddenly all she wanted was for him to kiss her again. ‘So now you try and persuade rich, influential people to donate to your charity. The articles I read said something about your skills at international diplomacy, which is basically saying the right thing at the right time, isn’t it? I don’t think I’d be very good at that.’
‘You’re probably right.’ His smile was faintly mocking. ‘You, Izzy Jackson, are a walking diplomatic incident.’
Remembering her behaviour the night of the party, she coloured. ‘I’m sorry I drank too much. I’m sorry I sang. I’m sorry I argued with you and forgot to turn off the microphone.’
‘I’m not.’ He was the embodiment of masculine virility, standing there with his jet-black hair gleaming under the Mediterranean sun. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe and her mind raced to all sorts of places it shouldn’t have been going.
‘Y-you’re not?’
‘If that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have heard your voice or that song.’
She might have believed that was the only reason had it not been for the edge to his tone and the tension visible in his broad shoulders.
Deciding that they both needed distraction, Izzy shielded her eyes from the sun and stared at the top seats. ‘Are we allowed to climb up there?’
‘It’s hot. Do you want to?’
‘Yes. Although I might pass out. The only exercise I get is dancing and I haven’t been doing a lot of that lately.’ But anything had to be better than standing here waiting to be incinerated by the explosive blast of sexual chemistry.
Trying to outrun it she sprinted up the first few steps and was soon gasping for air.
Fixing her gaze on the top, Izzy ploughed on. ‘Must have been hell being a spectator here in Roman times,’ she panted, ‘but at least if I crash to the bottom I won’t be eaten by lions.’
