Playing the Royal Game. Carol Marinelli

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Playing the Royal Game - Carol  Marinelli


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       ‘Do you want to be my fiancée?’

      ‘Alex…’ Allegra said. ‘Why, when I didn’t even want to have a drink with you, do you think I’d even entertain…?’

      ‘A million pounds.’

      She laughed, because these things didn’t happen, and he had to be joking and when he pulled out a cheque book, she laughed even more, because it was crazy. Except when he handed it to her, his hand was completely steady and he wasn’t laughing.

      ‘So what are you paying me for?’

      ‘I can’t just invent someone—you might have to join me in Santina at some point. All you would have to do is smile and hang onto my every word.’

      ‘Until?’

      ‘Until the people dictate otherwise…’ He gave a shrug. ‘It might be days, it might be weeks.’ He looked to the cheque and so too did Allegra, and she thought about it, hell, she really thought about it. He wasn’t asking for her to sleep with him, just to smile and hold his hand. And what she could do with the money—she could get a flat, a job, actually she could do what she really wanted…

       THE

       SANTINA CROWN

       Royalty has never been so scandalous!

       STOP PRESS—Crown Prince in shock marriage

       The tabloid headlines…

      When HRH Crown Prince Alessandro of Santina

      proposes to paparazzi favourite Allegra Jackson it

      promises to be the social event of the decade

      —outrageous headlines guaranteed!

       The salacious gossip…

      Mills & Boon invites you to rub shoulders with

      royalty, sheikhs and glamorous socialites.

      Step into the decadent playground of the

      world’s rich and famous…

       THE SANTINA CROWN

      THE PRICE OF ROYAL DUTY – Penny Jordan

      THE SHEIKH’S HEIR – Sharon Kendrick

      THE SCANDALOUS PRINCESS – Kate Hewitt

      THE MAN BEHIND THE SCARS – Caitlin Crews

      DEFYING THE PRINCE – Sarah Morgan

      PRINCESS FROM THE SHADOWS – Maisey Yates

      THE GIRL NOBODY WANTED – Lynn Raye Harris

      PLAYING THE ROYAL GAME – Carol Marinelli

      About the Author

      CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’.

      Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and, after chewing her pen for a moment, Carol put down the truth—’writing’. The third question asked, ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

      The

      Santina Crown

       Playing The Royal Game

       Carol Marinelli

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      CHAPTER ONE

      SHE was better off without the job, Allegra told herself.

      No one should have to put up with that.

      Except that walking in the rain along grey London streets, taking the underground to various employment agencies, the anger that her boss could make such a blatant a pass at her and then fire her for not succumbing started to be replaced with something that felt close to fear.

      She needed that job.

      Needed it.

      Her savings had been obliterated by the bottomless pit that was her family’s excess spending. At times it felt as if her lowly publishing wage supported half the Jackson family. Yes, she was the boring reliable one, but they didn’t mind her dependability when their erratic ways found them in trouble. Just last week she had lent her stepmother, Chantelle, close to five thousand pounds in cash for credit card debts that her father didn’t know about. It was laughable to think that she might now have to have her family support her.

      It was a miserable day, with no sign that it was spring; instead it was cold and wet, and Allegra dug her hands deeper into her trench coat pockets, her fingers curling around a fifty-pound note she had pulled out of the ATM. If her boss refused to put her pay in tomorrow it was all she had before being completely broke.

      No!

      She’d been through worse than this, Allegra decided. As Bobby Jackson’s daughter she was all too used to the bailiffs but her father always managed to pick himself up; he never let it get him down. She was not going to sink, but hell, if she did, then she’d sink in style!

      Pushing open a bar door, she walked in with her head held high, the heat hitting her as she entered, and Allegra slipped off her coat and hung it, her hair dripping wet and cold down her back. Normally she wouldn’t entertain entering some random bar, but still, at least it was warm and she could sit down and finally gather her thoughts.

      There had been a confidence to her as she’d stalked out of her office with dignity. With her track record and her job history, a lot of the agencies had called over the years offering her freelance work.

      It had been sobering indeed to find out that they were hiring no one, that the financial crisis and changes to the industry meant that there were no causal jobs waiting for her to step into.

      None.

      Well, a chance for a couple, but they added up to about three hours’ work per month. Per month!

      Allegra was about to head to the bar but, glancing around, saw that it was table service so she walked over to a small alcove and took a seat, the plush couch lined with velvet. Despite its rather dingy appearance from the street, inside it was actually very nice and the prices on the menu verified that as fact.

      She looked up at the sound of laughter—a group of well-dressed women were sipping on cocktails and Allegra couldn’t help but envy their buoyant mood. As her eyes moved away from the jovial women they stilled for a fraction, because there, sitting at a table near them, lost in his own world, was possibly the most beautiful man ever to come into her line of vision. Dark suited, his thick brown hair was raked back to show an immaculate profile, high cheekbones and a very straight nose; his long legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankle. But despite his rather languorous position, as he stared into his glass there was a pensiveness to him, a furrow between his eyebrows that showed he was deep in thought. The furrow deepened as there was another outbreak of laughter from the women’s table, and just as he looked up, just as he might have caught her watching, Allegra was terribly grateful for the distraction of the waitress who approached.

      ‘What can I get you?’ Allegra was about to order a glass of house wine, or maybe just ask if they could do


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