CHAPTER FOUR

      NATALIA decided to take Ben to a trendy, high-end wine bar near the market square, one of her regular haunts. She could have gone somewhere more discreet, where she wouldn’t be noticed, but some childish impulse in her made her choose the more obvious place, although whether she wanted to prove Ben right about her or just annoy him she couldn’t say. The moment they arrived the waiter fawned over her, stammering in his nervous haste.

      ‘Princess Natalia! I didn’t realise you might be gracing us with your presence tonight. Your usual table?’

      She waved a hand airily. ‘Thank you, Paulo, but perhaps something in the back this time.’ Her usual table was in the front window, perfect for the paparazzi, but she had a feeling Ben would balk at that. She could show some consideration. She glanced back at Ben, expecting his eyes to have narrowed and lips thinned in disapproval at her notoriety, but his expression was unreadable. ‘They know who I am here,’ she explained flippantly, and he arched an eyebrow.

      ‘So it appears.’

      The waiter led them to a discreet table in the back, tucked in its own corner, and two more waiters descended on them with bowls of olives and nuts.

      Ben took the proffered wine list and scanned it blandly, giving Natalia a chance to study him. She nibbled on a nut—in the end she hadn’t actually eaten much of the fabulous lunch and she was starving—and gazed at him from under her lashes.

      He really was a most attractive man. His hair, light brown and cut quite short, emphasised the hard planes of his cheekbones and jaw. Funny how brown hair and blue eyes—both so ordinary—could look so amazing, so assured and masculine on this one man. Also amazing was the way her body responded to the whole of his features, her heart rate kicking up so she felt nearly breathless.

      He glanced up, caught her staring and gave her an all-too-knowing smile. In the dim light his navy eyes glinted almost blackly. ‘Any preference?’ he asked, indicating the wine list.

      ‘How about champagne?’ Natalia suggested, and from the way his eyes narrowed she knew Ben was thinking of the bottle of wine at lunch.

      ‘Champagne, it is.’ No sooner had he closed the wine list than a waiter hurried to serve them. ‘A bottle of your best champagne,’ Ben said blandly, and Natalia arched an eyebrow.

      ‘Do you know how much that will cost?’ she asked after the waiter had left and Ben sat back in his chair, scanning the well-heeled crowd around them.

      ‘In a place like this? I’d say about three thousand euros. But I didn’t think you concerned yourself with filthy lucre, Princess.’

      ‘I don’t,’ she threw back at him. ‘But I thought you might. New money and all that.’

      ‘I thought we were calling a truce.’

      ‘And I said there was no fun in that.’

      Ben gazed at her, his expression thoughtful, assessing. Uncomfortable. He’d looked at her with compassion when he’d finished the filing for her, and this was just about as bad. Too understanding. Too knowing. Natalia shifted in her seat, recrossed her legs. ‘So you’re going to bait me and bicker with me for the next month?’ he finally asked.

      She shrugged, unwilling to admit how exhausting that sounded. But what other choice did she have? What else did she do? She certainly couldn’t attempt honesty. Intimacy. She’d tried that once and it had been a complete disaster. Just like it had been for Carlotta, ending up heartbroken and a single mother in the bargain. ‘Until it gets old,’ she finally told him with an attempt at breeziness.

      ‘And how long will that be, do you think?’

      ‘It depends how much fun you are.’

      ‘I think we have different definitions of fun.’

      ‘I have no doubt about that,’ she assured him, and he gave her a small smile.

      ‘So, Princess, what do you do with yourself besides shop and party and play?’ There was no real censure to his tone, but Natalia felt it all the same. His choice of words were telling enough. He thought she was shallow. What a surprise. She didn’t actually expect him to think any differently, yet his assumption still annoyed her.

      ‘What else is there? Unless you’re going to bore me with a lecture about work and duty and the satisfaction of a job well done.’ She rolled her eyes, and even though Ben smiled slightly she still sensed his disapproval.

      ‘All right, here’s another question. What do you hope to gain from this next month?’

      Any number of flip answers could have tumbled off her tongue, yet for some reason Natalia remained silent. Ben’s question seemed so sincere, she was oddly reluctant to offer another jibe. And, she realised, she wanted to know the answer. Unfortunately she was the one who was meant to give it, and she had no idea.

      ‘Cat got your tongue?’ Ben said softly, echoing her earlier words.

      ‘I must admit, I haven’t thought about this next month as anything but an endurance test.’

      ‘Fair enough. It’s all I pitched it as.’

      ‘But now you’re thinking of something else?’

      He shrugged, one powerful shoulder lifting. ‘Only that it’s an awfully long time to just endure.’

      She leaned forward with a catlike smile. ‘A perfect reason to end the bet right now. We could both walk away.’

      He let out a low laugh. ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of anything like that,’ he assured her, his gaze lingering and speculative. ‘Most definitely not.’ The waiter came then with the champagne, popping the cork with a flourish and pouring two glasses of a very expensive vintage. Ben raised his glass in a toast, and Natalia followed suit. ‘To the next twenty-nine days,’ he said, ‘and all they promise.’

      Natalia murmured her agreement and took a sip of the champagne, the bubbles crisp on her tongue. What could she gain from the month ahead? Ben’s question bothered her, not just because she didn’t know the answer, but because of what it implied. He made it sound as if this little exercise was meant to teach the spoilt princess a lesson in kindness and compassion, blah, blah, blah. It just showed how lacking Ben thought her in those qualities. And maybe she was. Yet she didn’t know how to change—or if she could.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ he said, and she looked up, startled that he’d sensed the change in her mood.

      ‘What on earth could be wrong?’ she replied lightly. ‘I’m drinking some of the best champagne I’ve ever had with a handsome man, even if he is a bit of a stuffed shirt. Maybe a glass or two will loosen him up.’ She gave him a flirtatious look from under her lashes, putting their