Defying the Prince Sarah Morgan Read online

  ‘That’s great.’ Actually, it wasn’t great because she didn’t want to have a positive opinion of him. ‘So where is he now?’

  ‘His Highness is in back-to-back meetings all morning but he asked that you join him for lunch at twelve-thirty in the Rose dining room. It overlooks the English rose garden on the south side of the palazzo.’ The girl hesitated, excitement dancing in her eyes. ‘You’re the first woman he’s allowed to stay overnight. We’re all so excited.’

  Feeling like a fraud, Izzy ushered the girl to the door, remembering the delight the staff had shown at his arrival the night before. Clearly Moody Matteo must have hidden depths if he managed to inspire such devotion in the people who worked for him.

  Walking over to the windows she stared down at the grounds. Acres of formal gardens stretched beneath her and Izzy stared in fascination because she’d never seen so much green space. Perfectly manicured hedges, a long sweep of grass and at the bottom an ornamental lake with a central fountain.

  Heat pricked the back of her neck and she suddenly realised that it really was very warm.

  She had two hours to kill before lunch.

  And she knew exactly how she was going to spend it.

  The day had started badly and was becoming worse with each email and phone call.

  It didn’t help that his mind wasn’t focused on work, but wrapped up in an erotic daydream involving a woman in shimmering red sequins with strawberry-streaked hair.

  He had no idea what it was about her that had smashed through his control. Yes, she was pretty, but he met beautiful women every day of the week. Women more elegant, more refined in their tastes, more decorous in their behaviour. By comparison, Izzy was wild.

  He closed his eyes and told himself that wild wasn’t good.

  Especially when he’d been her Goal of the Day.

  Being the target of female attention for all the wrong reasons was one of the penalties of being a prince but he’d never met anyone quite as blatant as her.

  Maybe it was her presence in his home that was having this effect on him. He never, ever allowed women to stay the night here. It was too … personal.

  ‘Nice voice.’ His PA slapped a pile of papers on his desk and Matteo looked up at her blankly.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Your guest. The windows are open and she’s been singing. You put her in the turret bedroom, didn’t you?’ There was curiosity in her eyes. ‘If she’s going to be part of the concert you’d better tell me what—’

  ‘She isn’t part of the concert,’ Matteo snapped, and then felt an immediate flash of guilt as he saw curiosity turn to shock. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right. It’s always stressful just before the big day, although it’s not like you to let it get to you. Nor is it like you to have overnight female guests while you’re here.’ She placed a cup of coffee next to the papers. ‘So will Miss Jackson be—?’

  ‘Miss Jackson isn’t part of anything we do here. Did Hunter call?’

  ‘While you were on the phone. He’s calling you back in ten minutes.’

  ‘Right.’ Matteo stood and prowled over to the window, restless and unsettled.

  Why the hell was she still singing when no one could hear her?

  He turned back to his PA, trying to delete images of Izzy Jackson from his brain. ‘The concert is just weeks away and we still haven’t found the right song.’

  ‘I know. Cue our annual nervous breakdown. I’ve been emailing Callie, but her assistant says she just isn’t inspired since her relationship with Rock Dog broke up. She’s taking some time out to “fill her creative well.”’

  Matteo ground his teeth. ‘And how long is that expected to take?’

  ‘She spent last week in a secret location in Arizona. This is the usual pattern when she breaks up with someone.’

  Dragging himself out of an erotic rerun of the previous night’s kiss, Matteo returned to his desk and opened up his laptop. ‘Remind me why we chose her to write and perform our charity single?’

  ‘Because her last single was the fastest download ever. But she was in love when she wrote it so she was inspired.’

  ‘And the single before that?’

  ‘She was in love then too. Different guy.’

  Love, Matteo thought savagely, had a lot to answer for.

  I believe in love, I just think it’s hard to find. Izzy’s words came back into his head and he frowned, thinking it was an unusually observant comment from someone so superficial.

  ‘We can’t wait for Callie to be inspired so we’d better move to plan B. Get Pete Foster on the phone.’

  He worked for the rest of the morning and by the time he’d unravelled one crisis after another he was cursing creative people whose approach to work was so unreliable.

  He’d left instructions that Izzy should meet him for lunch, but when he finally made it to the dining room the table was laid but the room was empty apart from two flustered footmen, one of whom was sneaking looks out of the window as Matteo strode into the room.

  ‘Where is she?’ Matteo addressed the senior of the two, a man who had worked for him for more than ten years.

  ‘I believe Miss Jackson went for a walk, Your Highness.’ The fact that the man didn’t quite meet his gaze confirmed his suspicions that Izzy Jackson was doing something she shouldn’t.

  ‘Do you have any idea where?’

  The gaze of the younger of the two men slid towards the window and then back again. ‘She’s. outside, Sir.’

  ‘Where outside?’ Matteo’s tone was lethally soft and the man’s cheeks flushed.

  ‘I believe she’s gone for a walk down to the lake, Sir. She said she was too hot.’

  Sensing that there was a great deal more that he wasn’t being told, Matteo spun on his heel.

  He had a mountain of work problems waiting for his attention, the last thing he needed was to be chasing some wannabe popstar round his grounds. If they were going to share living space then she had to learn to respect boundaries.

  Deeply regretting the impulse that had driven him to bring her to his home and even more deeply regretting the impulse that had driven him to kiss her, Matteo strode through the grounds of the palazzo.

  He never allowed a woman to get under his skin but somehow she’d managed it.

  He could see no sign of her anywhere and was about to try the botanical garden when he heard singing and a splash of colour caught his eye. Turning his head, he stared down the long sweep of grass to the ornamental lake that could be seen from the front of the palazzo and formed the focus of the Renaissance garden. In the centre of the lake was the famous Neptune fountain and there, splashing happily around in the spray, was Izzy.

  Finally he understood the unusual buzz amongst his staff.

  Never had the formal gardens of the palazzo been used for such a practical purpose.

  Teeth gritted, blood boiling, Matteo strode down the grassy slope towards the lake. As he approached he noticed a small pile of clothes and what looked like the remains of her breakfast, a half-eaten croissant on a plate.

  Apparently she hadn’t noticed him and she twirled in the fountain, sending droplets of water flying. Her strawberry-pink hair clung wet to her bare shoulders and the only thing covering her modesty were two skimpy pieces of a bright fuchsia bikini.

  She was a blur of colour, brighter than any bloom in the formal gardens, and in that moment he knew that if he’d been an artist, this was the image he would have chosen to paint.

  Girl in a fountain.

  He saw lush breasts pushing at the top of her bikini, a smooth flat stomach and dazzling smile momentarily stopped him in his tracks, as she sang and splashed with unselfconscious enjoyment.

  Even when she finally noticed him, her smile didn’t slip. ‘Buongiorno, Your Highness.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Relaxing! This is amazing. Like having your own shower in a swimming pool. So cool. Is this Michelangelo again? The guy re
ally knows how to build a great statue. I love everything about him. It would be a great place to film a music video.’

  ‘Get out of there right now.’ His icy tone slid off her like the water from the fountain, his unconcealed disapproval having no apparent effect on her exuberance. ‘Are you listening to me?’

  ‘I’m just cooling down. I had a bit of a headache and you did tell me to take a cold shower. Great advice by the way.’

  ‘That was last night.’

  ‘Better late than never and it proves I do listen to you. Why are you wearing a suit? Aren’t you slightly overdressed for the weather? It’s boiling.’

  Matteo kept his eyes fixed on her face and resisted the temptation to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck. ‘I’ve had meetings this morning. I’m working.’

  ‘Oh. Poor you.’ She flipped back her hair and dipped her hands in the cool water. ‘So if you’re working, what are you doing here? You should be focusing.’

  She was telling him about focus?

  ‘You were supposed to join me for lunch.’

  A wry little smile tugged at her mouth. ‘We both know you didn’t really want me to join you for lunch. You were just fulfilling your duty and I don’t want to be anyone’s duty. It was bad enough watching you leaving the party early last night, sacrificing yourself on “Izzy removal duty.” Frankly I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in that stuffy room indoors trying to work out which fork to use and which glass to drink out of and feeling generally stupid while you give me that look. Anyway, this is perfect picnic weather. I brought the rest of my breakfast outside. Help yourself. Your chef is a genius. Those pastries are homemade.’

  ‘I don’t eat picnics.’

  ‘Seriously? Eating outdoors beats a five-star restaurant every time.’ Her eyes brimmed with humour. ‘Take off that jacket and sit down on the grass. Relax. Try and look as if you’re enjoying yourself. Who knows—you might actually have some fun.’

  Matteo found himself paralyzed because her words took his mind spinning back to a time he’d managed to put behind him.

  Let’s have some fun, Matteo. Forget you’re a prince …

  His jaw clenched. These days he never forgot who he was. Never. ‘Get out of the fountain. Now.’

  ‘Why? I like it here. And you’re very bad-tempered this morning.’

  ‘I’m not asking you again.’

  ‘Good, because I can’t stand nagging. If you want me out, you’ll have to come and get me.’ Her smile didn’t slip but there was a challenge in her eyes and he resisted the temptation to do exactly as she’d suggested. She’d be slippery under his hands. Wet. She’d feel—

  Incredible.

  ‘Isabelle.’

  ‘Oops. Big mistake. Warned you about that last night. Never call me Isabelle. It brings out the worst in me.’ Her fingers skimmed the surface of the water and her eyes met his. Something wicked gleamed there. ‘Now you’re in trouble, Your Highness.’

  Reading her mind he breathed in sharply. ‘Don’t you dare.’

  ‘Are you going to come in and stop me?’ She was flirting with him. Not in the hopeful, contrived way he’d witnessed all his life but in a saucy, natural, unaffected way that sent his pulse rocketing. There was something about her complete absence of deference that heated his blood.

  Still, there was no way she’d—

  The shower of cold water splattered his hair, his jacket and the front of his shirt, which promptly welded itself to his skin. ‘Maledizione.’ He swore fluently in Italian and wiped the water from his eyes with a hand that wasn’t quite steady, only to find himself showered again. ‘Are you crazy? This suit is silk.’

  ‘Better take it off then, before it’s ruined.’

  He did just that, shrugging the jacket from his shoulders in a violent movement and saw her gaze slide to his damp shirt.

  Her lips parted and her eyelids lowered slightly. ‘Nice body, Your Highness. I’ve never seen a ripped prince before.’

  The air around them grew hotter. Matteo took a step towards the fountain….

  ‘Your Highness—’ A breathless voice came from behind him and he dragged his eyes from a laughing, unrepentant Izzy to Serena, his cool-eyed PA, who was walking briskly down the grass towards him, her cheeks slightly pink from the heat. ‘I have Hunter Capshaw for you. You weren’t answering your phone.’

  Matteo hadn’t even heard his phone.

  All his attention had been focused on the girl in the fountain.

  And right now every muscle in his body was straining with the effort to resist the chemistry that pulled at them.

  Izzy represented everything he avoided. Everything dangerous. Even more so since she’d admitted that getting him to notice her had been her Goal of the Day. His mood wasn’t improved by the realisation that had Serena arrived a moment later he would have been in that fountain with her. He hoped he would have had the willpower to simply drag her out of the water, but after what had happened between them the night before he wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Ask him to hold. I’ll take the call in my office.’ He snapped out the words and then immediately felt guilty because the beam of anger should have been directed at the girl in the fountain, not Serena, and once again he was going to be forced to apologise.

  His frustration mounting, he threw a furious glance at Izzy. ‘Get dressed and meet me in my office.’

  She tried to pout but she was laughing too hard to pull it off. ‘That doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fun.’

  Matteo glared at her. ‘Do it.’

  Then he stepped over her picnic and strode past his gawking PA, past the watchful eyes of the stone lions that had been there since the sixteenth century but had doubtless never witnessed a scene like this, and into the rooms of the palazzo that had been converted into state-of-the-art offices.

  Next time, he vowed, he’d leave trouble where he found it instead of bringing it home with him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IZZY fidgeted on the elegant chair. Her damp hair cooled her bare neck and shoulders and a few blades of grass had stuck to her feet and now niggled uncomfortably inside her espadrilles.

  The offices were bright and light, the reception area filled with towering plants and modern paintings. A contrast to all the ancient history around them.

  This was supposed to be a holiday, but she felt restless and full of repressed energy. Her plan had failed so now she needed to rethink. It didn’t feel right sitting here doing nothing when her goal was still so far out of reach. She should be planning. Writing more songs.

  But it was hard writing a song without a piano.

  Her foot tapped the floor impatiently and she wondered how long he was going to keep her sitting here.

  ‘His Royal Highness will see you now.’ It was the woman who had come to fetch him at the fountain. Elegant. Not a hair out of place. Not a single crease in her suit.

  Feeling seriously underdressed in her denim shorts and T-shirt with Crazy Girl picked out in sequins, Izzy silently admired her poise. ‘So, is he furious? Am I dead?’

  The woman stood stiff for a moment and then her eyes slid to the door of the office, which was half closed. ‘I’ve never seen him lose his temper,’ she whispered, ‘and I’ve worked for him for two years. What have you done to him?’

  ‘Driven him mad. It’s my special gift.’ Izzy stood and walked towards the door. Bracing herself for conflict, she paused for a second and then knocked and entered.

  The prince was seated behind the desk, his eyes on the computer screen.

  He looked sleek, spectacularly good-looking and completely out of her league, and Izzy’s heart bumped hard against her chest.

  Whatever faults he might have, there was no denying that the man was truly gorgeous. Seriously hot. Even more so now she’d had a glimpse of what he was hiding under that formal suit.

  A different suit, she noticed.

  He’d changed.

  She wondered what he’d look like in jeans and then deci
ded that he’d probably look spectacular in anything. Or nothing.

  Seeing him behind the large desk, formidable in every way, it was almost impossible to believe that this same man had kissed her the night before. For a fleeting second she’d felt raw, untamed passion and the contrast between that man and the restrained, controlled man she was viewing now was startling and puzzling.

  In his own time he lifted his gaze and the glint in those eyes reflected her inner turmoil right back at her. ‘Sit down.’ He radiated control and authority and Izzy stood rigid, feeling like a schoolgirl called to the headmaster’s office.

  ‘It was just a few drops of water, for goodness’ sake.’ She didn’t mention last night’s kiss. He was in a bad enough mood without mentioning another of her transgressions. Or was it his transgression? He’d kissed her, hadn’t he? And there had been nothing soft or romantic about it. His mouth had been rough and demanding, as if—

  She frowned. As if he’d been angry about something.

  And he was angry now.

  There was no trace of humour in his face, no softening of the hard angles of those aristocratic features.

  ‘What does it take to get you to behave like a normal person?’

  ‘Most normal people would have wanted to swim in the fountain.’

  ‘There’s a wealth of difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it.’ His eyes were cold. ‘Sit down!’

  Cowed by his icy tone, Izzy plopped onto the chair. Without thinking, she toed off her shoes and crossed her legs under her so that she was balanced on the seat.

  ‘You need to learn to—’ He broke off as he saw the way she was sitting. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Sitting. You told me to sit. I sat.’

  ‘I told you to sit, not take your shoes off.’ Tension throbbed beneath the surface of his rigidly controlled frame and Izzy wondered what it took to make him relax.

  ‘My feet hurt. That’s partly your fault for dragging me miles through the palace last night and partly because you just made me run up a steep grassy bank in my espadrilles and they rub. I didn’t bring hiking boots and your garden is the size of a park. This is how I sit. I’m making myself comfortable.’ Eyeing him cautiously, she wondered if he was waiting for her to apologise. ‘Look, I’m sorry about last night. I admit it wasn’t my finest moment. And I’m sorry about your suit. Give me the cleaning bill. But you could maybe think about dressing in a more practical way.’