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‘Wanting to know how well you know your subject.’
She brought her hand to her mouth. Tapped her lips with her index finger.
‘You appear cold, aloof, but you’re not. That’s the Prince of Lasserno’s costume, what you allow the world to see, but it’s not real. You care, deeply, for your country and your people, but you refuse to show it to anyone. As if you’re not the man, but youarethe crown. Except there’s a human heart beating in your chest. But some days, I think you wish there wasn’t. Because being human is messy and ugly and imperfect. It’s about desire and need and feelings, and that’s not who you want to be. The trouble is, that’s exactly who you are.’
Each word hit him like an arrow shot straight, finding its truest and most damaging place. She saw him too well, and her insights caused his heart to race, his chest to constrict.
Others only saw what they assumed was the truth. He could control the narrative with them. Like acting, putting on a show. Right now, Hannah was all risk. Huge reward, but the risk terrified him most of all. She gave him the tantalising glimpse of a life without meticulous attention to duty, and that was a terrible temptation.
‘I think that you’re worried if you show people the real you, they won’t love you. The thing is, they’d love you even more if you would be yourself. Because you’re a good man.’
He didn’t want to talk now, but he couldn’t move. It was as though he was pinned to the bed, frozen in place. He couldn’t take this attention on him. He didn’t know why he had asked the question of her, because he should have known she’d see things he hadn’t wanted others to see.
‘Do you want to know what I see in you?’ he asked, trying to deflect from himself because the spotlight burned too brightly when it focused on the truth.
‘Not really.’ She closed her notepad, sat up straighter. So perfect and relaxed in her nakedness.
‘Why is that, Hannah?’
She hid herself as well. They both wore costumes, even now pretending to be something they weren’t.
‘I’m not that interesting.’
‘I disagree. Rule number one, remember.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’
As he was a prince, people didn’t mock or tease him. Or joke with him much at all. Stefano was the only person who did, but he’d been a friend for years. Alessio found himself enjoying it from her. The irreverence. The freedom for them both to...be.
‘You talk about me hiding myself? You do it too. You’re a passionate woman when it comes to your art. But you deny that part of yourself, forgetting what you’re like in my arms. In bed.’
‘And what about you?’ Hannah said. ‘Wanting to marry someone you barely know and don’t love. Better not to marry at all.’
He didn’t want to think of marriage, matchmakers, or perfect princesses right now, but they were the reality he couldn’t escape. A shortlist of candidates was on his desk, whom he would meet...when Hannah left.
‘I have a dynasty to preserve.’
‘What if your precious yet-to-be-found princess falls in love with you and you don’t love her? Where will you be then? You’re condemning someone to a life that’s unfair.’
‘She’ll know what to expect.’
‘Or are you afraid of forming a real attachment? That’s when you have most to lose.’
Her words hit sharp and true. He couldn’t let them go unanswered. He sat up, the sheet falling from his torso. Hannah’s cheeks pinked, but she didn’t look away.
‘Says the woman who claims she’s not interested in love. That her art is enough.’
‘At least I’m not trying to draw anyone else into it. This is my life. I’ll live it how I see fit.’
She stood and sauntered to him, beautifully naked, the rolling sway of her hips and tight nipples, the slight flush on her chest were telling him what she had in mind. Distraction. And he didn’t care because her kind of distraction was the most delicious of all. Let them both drown in it, forgetting everything else.
‘You’re so perfect in everything you do. Even now, lying in this bed. As if you’re artfully displayed. It makes me wonder if you know how to be anything less. Makes me want to mess you up.’
‘I invite you to try.’
There was something about her that warned of danger. Like an impending storm, dark and brooding, hovering on the horizon. The bed dipped as she sat on the edge close to him, her fingers blackened from the charcoal she’d smudged across her page. Hannah reached out with one hand to his chest and smeared her fingers across his flesh, leaving dark stripes there. The smile on her face was pure wickedness. ‘How does that feel, Your Highness?’
‘Like you’re not trying hard enough.’
