Princess Australia. Nicola Marsh
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innate elegance. Though he guessed that had more to do with the woman inside the clothes than the garments themselves.
Natasha Telford, quite simply, took his breath away.
Now he only hoped she had an open mind to go along with his plan.
‘Glad you could make it,’ he said, rising to his feet and pulling out a chair.
‘No problems.’ She inclined her head in thanks and sat down, gesturing to a waiter behind the bar. ‘What would you like?’
‘Espresso, please.’ And a healthy dollop of your co-operation.
‘Make that two,’ she said, smiling at the waiter in a way that made Dante’s pulse roar.
Why couldn’t she give him one of those smiles? Was the young guy a flame?
He studied her carefully, watching for a flushing of cheeks, a coy expression, a change in body language, but he came up blank. In fact, while he’d been making a few irrational leaps of thought it looked like she’d been studying him just as intently. By the slight frown marring her smooth forehead, he’d come up lacking.
‘So what did you want to discuss?’
She sat ramrod-straight, her hands clasped firmly in her lap, a determined look on her face, and Dante had a sneaking suspicion his plan was about to hit a major snag in the form of one beautiful wet blanket.
‘I need your help.’
‘So you said earlier.’
Her caustic tone didn’t inspire much confidence and he ploughed on, choosing his words carefully.
‘My visit to your country is multi-faceted. Official duties, fostering foreign relations and a family visit. Everyone knows the prince will be staying at your hotel and for how long. What they don’t know is that I’ve arrived on schedule, assumed a different identity and will have my secretary ring to say I’ve been delayed by a week. So during that week I wish to remain anonymous.’
‘Why didn’t you let me know your need for anonymity when you booked?’
Good question; he just couldn’t give her an honest answer. How could he explain to a woman he barely knew that the spur of the moment decision had as much to do with a desperate need to escape as his desire to spend time with a nephew he’d hardly seen?
‘My extra week here is impromptu and I need some time out from my duties.’
She raised an eyebrow, a delicate gesture that made him smile. Somehow, he knew there was nothing delicate about Natasha Telford. She came across as a vision of feminine loveliness…with a backbone of steel beneath.
‘I see.’
By the tiny frown creasing her brow, he seriously doubted that.
‘For family reasons?’
‘Uh-huh.’
Natasha sat back in the armchair and fixed the prince with a suspicious glare, wondering if he thought she were completely stupid.
Guys like him didn’t flit around countries trying to hide their identity for ‘family reasons’. They did the whole cloak and dagger thing for floozies, mistresses or whatever the name was for their hidden love interests.
The prince must have a secret lover, someone he didn’t want the press to get wind of, and that had to be the real reason behind this elaborate farce.
So what? It wasn’t any of her business. As long as he came out of the closet—so to speak—at the end of the week, she’d still get the much-needed publicity boost for the Towers. And, after playing along with His Sneaky Highness, she had every intention of milking his royal presence for every cent he was worth.
‘You don’t look too impressed.’
Silently cursing her expressive face, Natasha said, ‘What you do in the next week is no concern of mine.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’
The arrival of their espressos put paid to the questions raging through her brain, and she waited till they were alone again to continue.
‘I don’t follow.’
‘You are the only person who knows my real identity and I want it to stay that way. It is imperative. Do I make myself clear?’
She stared at him in open-mouthed shock. Who did he think he was, talking down to her like that?
Then again, he was a prince, and obviously used to ordering people around. Not to mention the guy who would get her family’s business out of crisis.
She’d bite her tongue. For now.
‘Perfectly clear,’ she said, taking a sip of her coffee, enjoying the caffeine rush and trying not to notice the way his long, tanned fingers wrapped around the tall glass mug with ease, as if they were made to hold things…caress things…
‘Good.’
He stared at her over the rim of his mug, those blue eyes capturing her attention and making it impossible to look away no matter how much she wanted to.
‘How long have you been a concierge?’
His question came out of left field though she should have been grateful. With his probing stare, she’d half expected something more personal.
‘Less than a week.’
He lowered his mug, surprise etched across his handsome face. ‘By your surname, I assumed you were part of the Telford family and in the job for a long time. Maybe I’ve entrusted my secret to the wrong person?’
‘Relax,’ she said, enjoying her first genuine smile of their meeting.
No matter how laid back His Highness seemed, this whole secrecy thing was getting to him. She could see it in his suddenly tense shoulders, his rigid neck, his clenched fingers. His floozy must be some woman for him to go to these lengths to protect her identity.
‘My father runs Telford Towers and I’ve worked here since I could walk. Our concierge is away for the next twelve weeks on sick leave, so I’m filling in for seven days till his temporary replacement starts next week. Does that allay your fears?’
He nodded and visibly relaxed, placing his mug on the table between them and leaning back in his chair. ‘So, what do you usually do here?’
‘Everything.’
From ensuring things ran smoothly, to mediating staff disputes, to pampering VIPs, she did it all. It was what she loved about this place, had always loved about it. Being a part of Telford Towers came as naturally to her as breathing and she couldn’t let it slip away.
Especially when this entire mess with Clay was her fault.
‘Such as?’
She should’ve been flattered by Dante’s interest, but she wasn’t a fool. Now that he had her here, he wanted to know every last thing about the only person who knew his little secret. He probably still didn’t trust her.
‘I’m my father’s right-hand woman. After I graduated with an MBA, I joined him in the everyday running of the Towers. Whatever needs to be done, I do it.’
His eyes widened, the admiration in the steady blue gaze warming her from the inside out. ‘Is it only the two of you?’
‘Uh-huh.’
And the painful fact ripped through her, reopening old wounds. Would her mum have survived the heart attack without the added stress Clay had brought upon them? Would Natasha have to spend the rest of her life harbouring the unspeakable guilt that she had contributed to her mum’s death as well as potentially ruining the family?
‘You should be proud. Your father and you have done a marvellous job. This hotel is wonderful. This is wonderful.’
He threw his arms wide in a dramatic gesture