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‘You weigh nothing.’ And acknowledging that cost him because it made him more aware of the feel of her in his arms, of the softness of her skin and the way her hair brushed against his jaw.
‘I’d weigh more if you fed me. I’ve lost several kilos since I arrived. Why on earth would you want me to come with you? You hate me.’
If only.
He wondered what she’d say if she knew his feelings towards her were far, far more complex than that. She was so black and white, he thought. So extreme about everything. A small, lethal grenade of passion just waiting to explode at the wrong moment. All the more reason to isolate her somewhere she could do no harm.
Ignoring the astonished glances of the staff, Matteo strode down a set of steps and into a private courtyard at the rear of the palace.
He was just congratulating himself on being back in control of the situation when he felt the warmth of her mouth against his neck. Fire flashed through his veins and heated his body.
‘What are you doing?’ His voice was hoarse and he lowered her abruptly to the ground.
‘I asked you nicely to put me down—’ she looked as unsteady as she sounded ‘—but you didn’t listen to reason so I’m trying alternative tactics. Flattered though I am that you see someone as small and insignificant as me as some sort of monarchy wrecker, I’m afraid I must refuse your kind invitation to stay at your palazzo. Firstly because I have a suspicion that you’re not a very nice person. Secondly because if tonight is anything to go by the hospitality probably isn’t up to much, and fourthly—’
‘Thirdly,’ he corrected her smoothly, and she blinked.
‘Whatever. I really liked my hotel room. It came with a big fluffy dressing gown. For one week of my life I was going to live in luxury. I was going to have the whole princess lifestyle without the inconvenience of a prince.’
He was now standing a safe distance from her but he could still feel the touch of her mouth against his skin. ‘Your hotel is now a no-go zone. You’re coming with me and that isn’t an invitation, it’s a command.’
‘I like to make my own choices, thank you very much.’
‘Fine. Here are your choices. You can get in the car yourself, or I can put you there. Move.’ With a discreet flick of his wrist Matteo unlocked the sports car. ‘And don’t you dare be sick.’
At any other time she would have danced with excitement at the prospect of being given another chance to impress him, but Izzy was feeling hideous. And it wasn’t all down to the champagne she’d drunk.
She couldn’t believe the evening had gone so badly wrong. She needed to regroup. To plan. But she didn’t feel well enough.
As she slid into the deep leather seat of the super car, a nasty mixture of misery and humiliation sloshed around her brain mingling with a massive dollop of disappointment. When she’d envisaged the end of the evening none of her daydreams had included her being whisked away under the cover of darkness from a discreet private entrance hidden in the depths of the palace grounds.
She felt like a criminal being removed from the scene of the crime. And the fact that it was just the two of them in the car was deeply unsettling.
‘You’re a prince. I thought you’d have a bulletproof limo and armed police.’
‘I drive myself.’ The engine started with a throaty growl and he pressed his foot to the floor. ‘I prefer to be responsible for my own security rather than trusting it to other people.’
‘That must be quite a job because after half an hour in your company I’m willing to believe that there must be a million women out there just dying to shoot you through the head.’ Izzy had the satisfaction of seeing his knuckles whiten on the wheel. ‘You’re the one who wanted to kidnap me. Your punishment is being stuck with me.’ And her punishment? Her punishment was the dangerous sizzle that made it difficult to breathe.
He shifted gears with a smooth, expert movement and the car shot forward with a throaty growl. ‘Feel free to sulk over my appalling treatment of you. I would welcome the silence.’
‘I never sulk.’ But deep down she was bitterly disappointed that he’d mocked her voice. She’d been so excited about meeting him. She’d planned it carefully, worked long into the night to perfect the song she was going to sing. She’d picked a dress that she’d thought made her look like a star. But he’d taken one look at her and made the same judgements as the rest of the guests at the palace party. They’d all dismissed her as some cheap, ex-footballer’s daughter with nothing to offer musically.
Look at me, I’m not who you see …
The words popped into her head along with a haunting melody and despite the tense situation Izzy felt the fizz of excitement she always experienced when words and notes came together. Relieved to have something to distract her, she hummed softly as it flowed into her head like magic.
Deep inside there’s someone else, longing to break free.
‘You ruin your sister’s evening and you’re still singing? Don’t you know when to be quiet?’
‘I did not ruin her evening.’ Or had she? Izzy felt her conscience prick and then felt a ripple of concern because even through the haze of alcohol she’d been aware that her half-sister was behaving oddly.
With a stab of regret, she tugged her phone out of her bag and texted one word to Allegra.
Sorry.
But her family should be sorry too, she thought. They never took her seriously. I’m not what you see, don’t turn away … Terrified that she might forget it, she closed her eyes and hummed it a few times, forcing it into her memory. The tune and the words blurred as her mind drifted. The deep purr of the engine became soothing background noise….
