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Never ever. Not once.
She nodded and smiled her thanks at her waiting attendants, but Natalie didn’t dare speak. She was afraid that if she did, that faint catch in her throat would tip over into something far more embarrassing, and then worse, she’d have to explain it. And Natalie had no idea how to explain the emotions that buffeted her then.
Because the truth was, she didn’t know how to be beautiful. She knew how to stick to the shadows and more, how to excel in them. She knew how to disappear in plain sight and use that to her—and her employer’s—advantage. Natalie had no idea how to be the center of attention. How to beseen.In fact, she’d actively avoided it. Princess Valentina turned heads wherever she went, and Natalie had no idea how she was going to handle it. If shecouldhandle it.
But it was more than her shocking appearance, so princessy and pretty. This was the first time in all her life that she hadn’t had to be responsible for a thing. Not one thing. Not even her own sugar consumption, apparently. This was the first time in recent memory that she hadn’t had to fix things for someone else or exhaust herself while making sure that others could relax and enjoy themselves.
No one had ever taken care of Natalie Monette. Not once. She’d had to become Princess Valentina for that to happen. And while she hadn’t exactly expected that impersonating royalty would feel like a delightful vacation from her life, she hadn’t anticipated that it would feel a bit more like an earthquake, shaking her apart from within.
It isn’t real,a hard voice deep inside of her snapped, sounding a great deal like her chilly mother.It’s temporary and deeply stupid, as you should have known before you tried on that ring.
Natalie knew that, of course. She flexed her hand at her side and watched the ring Prince Rodolfo had given another woman spill light here and there. None of this was real. Because none of this was hers. It was a short, confusing break from real life, that was all, and there was no use getting all soppy about it. There was only surviving it without blowing up the real princess’s life while she was mucking around in it.
But all the bracing lectures in the world couldn’t keep that glowing thing inside her chest from expanding as she gazed at the princess in the mirror, until it felt as if it was a part of every breath she took. Until she couldn’t tell where the light of it ended and that shaking thing began. And she didn’t need little voices inside of her to tell her how dangerous that was. She could feel it deep in her bones, knitting them into new shapes she was very much afraid she would have to break into pieces when she left.
Because whatever else this was, it was temporary. She needed to remember that above all.
“Your Highness.” It was the most senior of the aides who traveled with the princess, something Natalie had known at a glance because she recognized the older woman’s particular blend of sharp focus and efficient movement. “His Royal Highness Prince Rodolfo has arrived to escort you to the gala.”
“Thank you,” Natalie murmured, as serenely and princessy as possible.
And this was the trouble with dressing up like a beautiful princess who could be whisked off to a ball at a moment’s notice. Natalie started to imagine that was exactly who she was. It was so hard to keep her head, and then she walked into the large, comfortably elegant living room of her hotel suite to find Prince Rodolfo waiting for her, decked out in evening clothes, and everything troubling became that much harder.
He stood at the great glass doors that slid open to one of the terraces that offered up stunning views of Rome at all times, but particularly now, as the sun inched toward the horizon and the city was bathed in a dancing, liquid gold.
More to the point, so was Rodolfo.
Natalie hadn’t seen him since that unfortunate kissing incident. Not in person, anyway. And once again she was struck by the vast, unconquerable distance between pictures of the man on a computer screen and the reality before her. He stood tall and strong with his hands thrust into the pockets of trousers that had clearly been lovingly crafted to his precise, athletic measurements. His attention was on the red-and-gold sunset happening there before him, fanciful and lovely, taking over the Roman sky as if it was trying to court his favor.
He wasn’t even looking at her. And still he somehow stole all the air from the room.
Natalie felt herself flush as she stood in the doorway, a long, deep roll of heat that scared her, it was so intense. Her pulse was a wild fluttering, everywhere. Her temples. Her throat. Her chest.
And deep between her legs, like an invitation she had no right to offer. Not this man. Not ever this man. If he was Prince Charming after all, and she was skeptical on that point, it didn’t matter. He certainly wasn’t hers.
She must have made some noise through that dry, clutching thing in her throat, because he turned to face her. And that wasn’t any better. In her head, she’d downgraded the situation. She’d chalked it up to excusable nerves and understandable adrenaline over switching places with Valentina. That was the only explanation that had made any sense to her. She’d been so sure that when she saw Rodolfo again, all that power and compulsion that had sparked the air around him would be gone. He would just be another wealthy man for her to handle. Just another problem for her to solve.
But she’d been kidding herself.
If anything, tonight he was even worse, all dressed up in an Italian sunset.
Because you know,something inside her whispered.You know, now.
How he tasted. The feel of those lean, hard arms around her. The sensation of that marvelous mouth against hers. She had to fight back the shudder that she feared might bring her to her knees right there on the absurdly lush rug, but she had the sneaking suspicion he knew anyway. There was something about the curve of his mouth as he inclined his head.
“Princess,” he murmured.
And God help her, but she felt that everywhere.Everywhere.As if he’d used his mouth directly against her heated skin.
“I hear you wish to build our public profile, whatever that is,” she said, rather more severely than necessary. She made herself move forward, deeper into the room, when what she wanted to do was turn and run. She seated herself in an armchair because it meant he couldn’t sit on either side of her, and his fascinating mouth twitched as if he knew exactly why she’d done it. “King Geoffrey—” She couldn’t bring herself to saymy father,not even if Valentina would have and not even if it was true “—was impressed. That is obviously the only reason I am here.”
“Obviously.” He threw himself onto the couch opposite her with the same reckless disregard for the lifespan of the average piece of furniture that he’d displayed back in Murin. She told herself that was reflective of his character. “Happily, it makes no difference to me if you are here of your own volition or not, so long as you are here.”
“What a lovely sentiment. Every bride dreams of such poetry, I am certain. I am certainly aflutter.”
“There is no need for sarcasm.” But he sounded amused. “All that is required is that we appear in front of the paparazzi and look as if this wedding is our idea because we are a couple in love like any other, not simply a corporate merger with crowns.”
Natalie eyed him, wishing the Roman sunset was not taking quite so long, nor quite so many liberties with Rodolfo’s already impossible good looks. He was bathed in gold and russet now, and it made him glow, as if he was the sort of dream maidens might have had in this city thousands of years ago in feverish anticipation of their fierce gods descending from on high.
