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Something he would have called fierce inhabited her face for a moment, and then was gone.
“You misunderstand me.” She ran her hands down the front of her dress as if it needed smoothing, but all Rodolfo could think of was the feel of her in his arms and the soft skin of her thigh against his palm. “I have every intention of doing my duty, Your Highness. But I will only be as faithful to you as you are to me.”
He shook his head. “I am not a man who backs down from a challenge, princess. You must know this.”
“It’s not a challenge.” Her gaze was dark when it met his. “It’s a fact. As long as you ignore your commitments, I’ll do the same. What have I got to lose? I’ll always know that our children are mine. Let’s hope you can say the same.”
And on that note—while he remained frozen in his chair, stunned that she would dare threaten him openly with such a thing—Rodolfo’s suddenly fascinating princess pulled herself upright and then swept out of the room.
He let her go.
It was clear to him after today that not only did he need to get to know his fiancée a whole lot better than he had so far, he needed to up his game overall where she was concerned. And when it came to games, Rodolfo had the advantage, he knew.
Because he’d never, ever lost a single game he’d ever played.
His princess was not going to be the first.
* * *
It was difficult to make a dramatic exit when Natalie had no idea where she was going.
She was on her third wrong turn—and on the verge of frustrated tears—when she hailed a confused-looking maid who, after a stilted conversation in which Natalie tried not to sound as if she was lost in what should have been her home, led her off into a completely different part of the palace and into what were clearly Valentina’s own private rooms. Though “rooms” was an understated way to put it. The series of vast, exquisitely furnished chambers were more like a lavish, sprawling penthouse contained in the palace and sporting among its many rooms a formal dining area, a fully equipped media center and a vast bedroom suite complete with a wide balcony that looked off toward the sea and a series of individual rooms that together formed the princess’s wardrobe. The shoe room alone was larger than the flat Natalie kept on the outskirts of London, yet barely used, thanks to her job.
Staff bustled about in the outer areas of the large suite, presumably adhering to the princess’s usual schedule, but the bedroom was blessedly empty. It was there that Natalie found a surprisingly comfortable chaise, curled herself up on it with a sigh of something not quite relief and finally gave herself leave to contemplate the sort of person she’d discovered she was today.
It left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She’d always harbored a secret fantasy that should she ever stumble over a Prince Charming type—and not be forced into studied courtesy because she represented her employer—she’d shred him to pieces. Because even if the man in question wasn’t the one who’d taught her mother to be so bitter, it was a fair bet that he’d ruined someone else’s life. That was what Prince Charmingsdid.Even in the fairy tale, the man had left a trail of mutilated feet and broken families behind him everywhere he went. Natalie had been certain she could slap an overconfident ass like that down without even trying very hard.
And instead, she’d kissed him.
Oh, she tried to pretend otherwise. She tried to muster up a little outrage at the way Rodolfo had put his hands on her and hauled her onto his lap—but what did any of that matter? He hadn’t held her there against her will. She could have stood up at any time.
She hadn’t. Quite the contrary.
And when his mouth had touched hers, she’dimploded.
Not only had Natalie kissed the kind of man she’d always hated on principle, but she’d kissed one promised to another woman. If that wasn’t enough, she’d threatened to marry him and then present him with children that weren’t his. As punishment? Just to be cruel? She had no idea. She only knew that her mouth had opened and out the threat had come.
The worst part was, she’d seen that stunned, furious look on the Prince’s face when she’d issued that threat. Natalie had no doubt that he believed that she would do exactly that. Worse, thatPrincess Valentinawas the sort of person who, apparently, thought nothing of that kind of behavior.
“Great,” she muttered out loud, to the soft chaise beneath her and the soothing landscapes on the walls. “You’ve made everything worse.”
It was one thing to try to make things better for Valentina, who Natalie imagined was having no fun at all contending with the uncertain temper of Mr. Casilieris. Natalie was used to fixing things. That was what she did with her life—she sorted things out to be easier, smoother, better for others. But Rodolfo hadn’t been as easily managed as she’d expected him to be, and the truth was, she’d never quite recovered from that first, shocking sight of him.
There was a possibility, Natalie acknowledged as she remained curled up on a posh chaise in a princess’s bedroom like the sort of soft creature she’d never been, that she still hadn’t recovered.And that you never will,chimed in a voice from deep inside her, but she dismissed it as unnecessarily dire.
Her clutch—Valentina’s clutch—had been delivered here while she’d been off falling for Prince Charming like a ninny, sitting on an engaged man’s lap as if she had no spine or will of her own, and making horrible threats about potential royal heirs in line to a throne. Was that treason in a kingdom like Murin? In Tissely? She didn’t even know.
“And maybe you should find out before you cause a war,” she snapped at herself.
What she did know was that she didn’t recognize herself, all dressed up in another woman’s castle as if that life could ever fit her. And she didn’t like it.
Natalie pushed up off the chaise and went to sweep up the clutch from where it had been left on the padded bench that claimed the real estate at the foot of the great four-poster bed. She’d examined the contents on the plane, fascinated. Princesses apparently carried very little, unlike personal assistants, who could live out of their shoulder bags for weeks in a pinch. There was no money or identification, likely because neither was necessary when you had access to an entire treasury filled with currency stamped with your own face. Valentina carried only her mobile, a tube of extremely high-end lip gloss and a small compact mirror.
Natalie sat on the bench with Valentina’s mobile in her hand and looked around the quietly elegant bedroom, though she hardly saw it. The adrenaline of the initial switch had given way to sheer anxiety once she’d arrived in Murin. She’d expected to be called out at any moment and forced to explain how and why she was impersonating the princess. But no one had blinked, not even Prince Rodolfo.
Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised that now that she was finally alone, she felt a little lost. Maybe that was the price anyone could expect to pay when swapping identities with a complete stranger. Especially one who happened to be a royal princess to boot.
