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His Royal Love-Child
LUCY MONROE
The prince and his pregnant mistress…Danette Michaels knew that when she became Principe Marcello Scorsolini’s secret mistress there would be no marriage, no future and no public acknowledgment. At the time it was enough. But Danette can’t be Marcello’s secret any longer.She wants him, all or nothing —even if it means their affair is over. Until a pregnancy test changes the rules forever.



His Royal Love-Child
Lucy Monroe




For Lidia Chernichenko, a dear friend and
a valued reader. I enjoy our friendship so
much and thank you for helping me name the
Scorsolini family. And for Theresa Brookins, a
wonderful reviewer and another special LFBJ pal.
Your presence at my chats always blesses me and
thank you for managing my “claim list.” Thank
you also for having the idea to name the country
after the family which gave the main island in
Isole dei Re its name. You’re both the best!
Hugs,
Lucy

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COMING NEXT MONTH

CHAPTER ONE
DANETTE MICHAELS closed the tabloid and put it down on the coffee table with careful precision.
Her hands were steady. It amazed her. A hurricane of pain was shaking her insides. She made no sound, though she wanted to scream. She wanted to rip the offending magazine to shreds, too. But she couldn’t do either. If she so much as touched the tabloid again…if she gave vent to even a tiny bit of the storm tearing apart her soul, she was going to lose it completely.
She refused to do that. She’d spent years controlling her emotions, hiding both physical and mental pain while denying her tears. Ray’s betrayal had made her cry and she’d sworn she wasn’t going to let another man do that again. Not even Principe Marcello Scorsolini.
“He’s just delish, isn’t he?” Lizzy breathed, oblivious to the devastation her visit had wrought in Danette. She leaned forward and flipped the magazine open again, and pointed to the picture that was the source of Danette’s current mental agony. “Can you imagine being that woman?”
Danette looked down at the picture. She didn’t want to. It hurt, but she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes were drawn by an emotion as powerful as the love that lay bleeding at the bottom of her heart. The need to know, and a desperate hope that her vision had deceived her the first time.
It had not.
The picture was exactly what she thought it was. It showed the drop-dead gorgeous president of the Italian arm of Scorsolini Shipping dancing with an equally attractive woman at his father’s birthday bash on Scorsolini Island. They were practically molded to one another’s bodies. Prince Marcello was smiling and the woman looked like a beautiful, sleek cat who had just copped a whole bowl of the richest cream.
How could Danette have been so stupid that she’d allowed herself to get involved with this man…to actually believe that they had enough in common where it counted?
She’d fallen into his arms with about as much self-preservation as a lemming following the pack leader off the side of a cliff. She’d given him her virginity and asked for nothing in return but his overwhelming passion. He’d offered her his fidelity, but that picture made her doubt the sincerity of the gift.
Contrary to what he had told her, her prince was the king of the playboys. Was she terminally stupid where men were concerned, or simply unlucky?
“Earth to Danette. Hello, is anyone in there?” Lizzy’s voice penetrated Danette’s crushing thoughts.
“What?”
“Where were you at, chica? Don’t tell me you were thinking about work.”
“Something like that,” Danette said in a strained voice. In her mind, her job and her lover were inexorably linked.
“I said, can you imagine being her?”
Only too well, except when Marcello held Danette close like that, she was never wearing a designer original ball gown. Most of the time, she wasn’t wearing anything at all. “Yes.”
Lizzy laughed. “You’ve got a better imagination than me then.”
“Not really.”
“Are you okay?” Lizzy asked, her face creased with concern. “You seem out of it, and more than just your normal preoccupation with being the original Wonder Woman at work.”
Danette forced herself to look away from the picture and at her small, blond friend. They were both Americans, but that was where the similarity ended. Lizzy was five feet even with the body of a pocket Venus and short blond hair that fell in wild ringlets around her heart-shaped face. She also had an infectious smile that had drawn Danette to her immediately.
Danette, on the other hand, had slight curves, a very slender build, a neck that Marcello said looked like a graceful swan’s, but which she felt was too long, average looks he called refreshingly natural, and average height that felt very tiny beside his six-foot-two-inch frame. Her chin-length mouse-brown hair was straight and even when she tried to curl it, it never held. So she’d given up trying.
Marcello said it felt like silk against his fingertips and he loved the fact she didn’t starch it with lots of product, but the blonde he was holding so closely in the picture certainly looked made up to the nines. So much for Marcello’s evinced preference for the unadorned lily. It was obvious he liked hothouse orchids just fine.
That picture made her wonder if she hadn’t fooled herself about Marcello just as badly as she had with Ray.
She tried for a smile, but failed. She settled for a sigh. “I’m fine. Just tired. I’ve been working hard on the Cordoba project.”
“With the hours you put in, it’s no wonder you don’t have a social life.”
But Danette did have a social life…a secret one that gave her more pleasure than she’d ever dreamed was possible. At least it had until this moment.
She managed to force the smile this time, though she wasn’t sure it was a very convincing one. “You know how it is.”
Lizzy’s smile was genuine, if tinged with worry. “What I know is that you work too hard.”
“Not really. I love my job.”
“I love my job, too, chica, but you don’t see me spending every waking moment dedicated to it.” Lizzy winked. “I’ve got better things to do with my off hours. Speaking of, I’ve got to get going…you sure you don’t want to come down to the taverna with the rest of us?”
Danette shook her head. “Sorry, but I think I’ll go for an early night.”
Lizzy sighed and shook her head, her blond curls bouncing. “You need to get out more.”
“I do get out.” With Marcello, and nowhere anyone from Scorsolini Shipping was likely to run into her.
Lizzy just snorted, then her expression turned calculating. “If you aren’t there, Ramon from sales is going to be disappointed.”
“I doubt it.”
“The guy has the hots for you, he’s good-looking, great at his job, and he’s single. Why not come down, spend some time with him? See where it goes.”
“Ramon has had four different girlfriends in the last six months…he’s a bad risk.” But she had to swallow a burble of hysterical laughter as she realized what she’d just said.
No worse risk existed in the relationship stakes than Marcello Scorsolini.
“All of life is a gamble, or haven’t you learned that yet?” Lizzy asked as she got up to go.
“Some chances are more worth taking than others.”
“And you don’t think Ramon is one of them?”
Danette sighed. “I don’t know, but not tonight. I’m sure about that much, all right?”
“Okay.” Lizzy smiled again and reached out to hug her. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
Danette hugged her back. As she stepped away, she remembered all the times she’d encouraged her friend, Tara, to go for it with Angelo Gordon, but this was different. No one could compete with Marcello…not even the sexy, charming Ramon from sales. “Have fun tonight.”
“We will.” Lizzy turned to leave.
“You forgot your magazine.”
“Keep it,” Lizzy tossed over her shoulder on her way out the door. “It’ll give you something to read before bed.”
The door shut behind the other woman before Danette could respond.
She didn’t want to read the tabloid. She didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want it in her apartment, but when she picked it up to throw away, she found herself rereading every single word of the article about King Vincente’s birthday party. It was a four-page spread with tons of pictures, a few quotes and enough innuendo to sink an oil tanker.
She was staring at the picture of Tomasso and the woman dancing when a peremptory knock sounded on her door.
She lived in what had once been the groundskeeper’s cottage on a large estate on the outskirts of Palermo. The family still occupied the main house and the security system was top-notch. Angelo and Tara had helped her find the place and she was really grateful. Even though Angelo had arranged for her job, she’d wanted to make it on her own in Italy from that point forward. So, she had refused her parents’ offer to help her buy another condo like the one she’d had in Portland, or in procuring what they considered an acceptable place of habitat for their one and only child.
The groundskeeper’s cottage with security services provided by the main house had been a compromise they could live with.
Because her home was far from the main road and the security was so good, she didn’t worry about getting unwanted guests. However, Marcello had drilled into her enough times never to open the door without checking first to be sure she knew her visitor, that she automatically did so now.
It was him.
She didn’t know why that should shock her, but it did. After seeing the article, her mind had told her he no longer belonged to her…if he ever had. Therefore, why would he bother showing up on her doorstep?
Yet, there he stood on the other side of her door looking like the epitome of Sicilian male perfection. From his golden-brown hair styled casually to enhance his sculpted features, to the tips of his Gucci leather shoes, he exuded delectable masculine appeal. He also looked tired, the skin around his cobalt-blue eyes lined with fatigue.
He’d probably been too busy partying to sleep. Even as the unpleasant thought surfaced, she was forced to dismiss it. She knew better.
He’d been gone on a business trip for more than a week before his father’s birthday party. They’d spoken on the phone every night and he’d made it clear he was pushing himself and everyone around him to finish.
Only seeing the picture had made her think that he wouldn’t come straight to her from the airport. Why would he when he had beautiful, sophisticated women like the one in the photo to spend his time with?
Perhaps it was an irrational line of reasoning, but she wasn’t at her logical best at the moment. He knocked a second time, the staccato rap and his scowl communicating his impatience at being kept on the doorstep.
She opened the door and then stood staring mutely at his large frame as it filled her doorway.
His sensual lips transformed from a frown to an enticing smile. “Good evening, tesoro mio. Are you going to let me in?”
“What are you doing here?”
His eyes narrowed, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had come. “What kind of question is that? I have not seen you for more than a week. My plane landed not an hour ago…where else would I be?”
Six months ago, when they’d begun their affair, the question would have been ludicrous. He had made it a point of seeing her only a couple of nights a week, but as the weeks progressed the number of nights they spent together increased until they were practically living together…albeit in secret.
“Maybe spending time with your new girlfriend?”
He stepped into the small cottage, forcing her to move backward if she didn’t want him touching her. And she didn’t. Not right now. Maybe never again.
She tripped backward with speed, not stopping until she was several feet away.
“What other girlfriend?” he asked, enunciating each word with quiet precision as he pushed the door shut behind him and then followed her across the room.
She lifted the gossip rag toward him. “This one.”
He stared down at the magazine and then took it from her hand to look more closely. His eyes skimmed the pages, his expression turning to one of disdain before he tossed it to the coffee table behind her. “That is nothing more than a scandal sheet. Why were you reading it?”
“Lizzy brought it over. She thought it was a hoot to read an article about the big boss. What difference does it make how it came into my possession? Dismissing it as a low form of journalism isn’t going to make the pictures go away or the behavior that got caught in the camera lens for that matter.”
“Nothing untoward was caught on film.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I danced with a few women at my father’s birthday party, smiled at some, talked. There is no crime in that.”
“Not if you weren’t attached, no.”
His frown intensified, eyes that usually looked on her with indulgent affection going wintry. “You know I will not tolerate a possessive scene, Danette.”
She almost laughed. He sounded so darn arrogant it wasn’t hard to believe he was a prince, only that he was the youngest son. That kind of egotism should be reserved for the heir to the throne.
“Fine. Leave and we won’t have one.”
He jolted as if she’d slapped him. “You want me to leave? I’ve just arrived.”
“Well, since apparently the only thing you want me for is sex and I’m definitely not in the mood after seeing those pictures, you might as well.”
“I have never said that.” He cursed volubly in Italian. “Where did that come from? Why would you say such a thing? I do not see you as a body without a brain.”
“Good, because I have one, and it’s telling me that if I was more than a body in your bed, I would have been by your side at your father’s party, not reading about it in a gossip rag two days later and having to see pictures of you flirting with other women.”
“You know why you were not at my side.”
“Because you don’t want anyone to know about me! You’re ashamed of me, aren’t you?” she asked, slipping one more notch into pain-induced irrationality and unable to do a thing to prevent it. Which terrified her more than the pain itself. She had always been able to control her emotions, no matter how devastating, but what she felt for him was too big.
Apparently he thought she’d gone over the edge, too, because he stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You are insane tonight. First you accuse me of having another woman, then you say I see you as nothing but a sex toy…or as good as.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “This is crazy. I am not ashamed of you.”
“But you don’t want anyone to know about me.”
“For your own sake.” He swore again and tunneled his long brown fingers through his hair. “You know how invasive the paparazzi can be. The minute they got wind of my relationship with you, you would be watched your every waking moment. You would not be able to go to a public restroom without having a reporter ready to take your picture from under the stall next to your own.”
“It wouldn’t be that bad. I’m not big news.”
“But I am. I have lived my whole life the son of one of the relatively few royal couples in history to have divorced. I had no privacy in my marriage. Bianca had to travel everywhere with bodyguards not only for her personal security, but to protect her from the intrusive press. I have told you this.”
Danette said nothing. The logical part of her brain knew he spoke the truth, but she could not make herself admit it. Even if her mind told her that he was determined to keep their relationship private because he valued it so much, her heart said that a relationship that had to be hidden wasn’t valuable enough.
The way he’d been dancing with the blonde certainly made it look like he valued her.
He sighed. “I developed a playboy facade after Bianca’s death to protect myself and the woman I truly wanted to be with. You know this. We have discussed it before.”
She did know it. She had even seen it as something deeply personal they had in common. After all, hadn’t she developed an outgoing, flirtatious image to hide the very private person she was beneath the facade? She’d seen his playboy reputation the same way once he explained it to her. Only that photo implied the persona was the man.
It made a mockery of the love she’d discovered she felt for him. Love wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt so much. It was supposed to make life beautiful, to empower the lover…but all she ever got from it was pain and a horrible sense of insecurity.
“How many women have you truly wanted to be with since Bianca?” she demanded, feeling waspish and hurt and unable to hold back the ugly question.
“That is none of your business.”
“Apparently most of your life is none of my business.”
“That is not true.”
“You don’t share it with me.”
“That is a lie.” He looked like he wanted to shake her. “You get more of my time than anyone else. Did I not work twenty-hour days while I was gone so that I could fly back to you after the birthday party rather than returning to our shipping office in Hong Kong?”
He rubbed his eyes, his face drawn with exhaustion and reflecting disappointment. “We spend practically every evening together doing more than sharing our bodies and you know this, tesoro mio. We have been to the theater, out to dinner many times…we have put puzzles together because it is something you enjoy doing and you have taught me to play odd American card games. The only part of myself I do not share with you is the public spotlight. I understood that was not something you craved. Was I wrong? Do you wish to be known as the latest lover for a Scorsolini prince?”
His sarcasm didn’t even faze her. “If it means I don’t have to see pictures of you plastered against another woman, yes.”
He shook his head. “We were dancing. That is all. It meant nothing. You must know this.”
“All I know is that you two looked like you were getting ready to make a hasty exit from the party and find someplace private to continue dancing.”
“You are jealous.” He shook his head. “There is no need.”
“I’m hurt!”
“Only because you do not trust me.”
“How can I?”
“I told you that for as long as we are together, our relationship would be exclusive. I gave you my word. You have known me for a year, intimately for half as long. When have you ever known me to break it?”
“I don’t like being your dirty little secret.”
“What we share is not dirty, and you are a secret because our relationship is so special to me that I do not want to lose it,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
She averted her face, refusing to answer, and the silence stretched between them. She sensed his movement, but was still shocked when one of his hands brushed the hair back from her temple and then slipped down to cup her chin. He gently turned her face until their gazes met.
“I am very sorry if the pictures hurt you.”
She knew he considered this a major climb-down, and to give him credit, for him it was. He had started the conversation off with a refusal to have a scene and was now apologizing. He was too darn perfect to have to apologize much and too powerful to be forced into giving one even when he was wrong in most cases, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
What difference did an apology make when it wasn’t accompanied by the assurance the offense would not happen again?
Seeing the picture had hurt her. A lot. She felt like her heart was being ripped into shreds even now.
“Just tell me one thing,” she said. “How would you feel if our positions were reversed? What if you were the one looking on at me flirting with other men?”
His jaw clenched as if the thought was not a pleasant one, but then he visibly relaxed his tense facial muscles. “In order to keep our relationship private, I must act naturally at public social functions. It would be entirely un-natural for me to ignore a roomful of women. Speculation would be rife if I was to do so and the paparazzi would soon begin looking for my secret liaison or making assumptions about my masculine urges, or worse.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
He was a master at redirection, which made him a force to reckon with in the business world and not much more user-friendly in a relationship. But she’d been with him six months and worked for him six months before that. She knew most of his techniques by now and wasn’t about to be swayed by them.
“It is all the answer you need. This is not about tit for tat. My behavior was necessary.”
“And if I behaved similarly out of necessity it would not bother you?”
“The occasion does not arise.”
“Are you sure about that?” She paused, giving him a moment to let the question prick at his arrogant certainty. “Just because I’m not gossip-column worthy doesn’t mean I never flirt with other men.”
“And do you?” he asked with an indulgence that said more clearly than anything else could how little he worried about the possibility.
“I haven’t, because I considered myself taken, but I realize now that I shouldn’t have.”

CHAPTER TWO
“YOUare taken,” Marcello said forcefully, no indulgence in evidence any longer.
“Not if you aren’t, I’m not.”
He let out a breath of obvious frustration. “It is not a matter of not considering myself in a relationship…it is merely that were I to ignore the overtures of other women completely, it would lead to too much speculation.”
“Whereas my loyalty does not?”
“It is not a matter of loyalty,” he denied, anger starting to curl around the edges of his forced patience.
“Yes, it is.”
“I told you, it is a matter of expediency.”
“And if me turning down invitations led to the same speculation that worries you, would that be reason for me to respond similarly? To go out with other men, to flirt with them?”
“I did not go out with anyone! I danced…I talked…I flirted as Italian men do, but I did not touch anyone as I touch you. I did not want to.”
“You had that woman’s body as close to yours as you could get with your clothes on.”
“It did nothing for me.”
“Is that supposed to matter?”
“It should.”
“Why?”
“It tells you that despite your insecurities, you are special to me.”
“So special I’m a big, dark secret no one in your life knows about.”
“So special that only the thought of seeing you turns me on. Holding another woman with her body pressed to mine does not because she is not you.”
She didn’t want to be moved by his description, but her susceptible heart told her that was unique…particularly for a man like Marcello Scorsolini.
He put his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing her collarbone in a way he knew made her shiver. “The only woman I want, the only woman I crave to touch and be touched by right now, is you.”
If he hadn’t tacked the right now on, his statement would have been perfect.
He crowded close to her until their bodies brushed. “You are the only woman I want to hold this close. Everything at the party was window dressing…it meant nothing. Believe me, tesoro. Please.”
The please did it. This man was not accustomed to begging. For anything. She had to be special to him, or he would have walked out when she started being difficult. Because he could have any woman he wanted…of that she was certain. And he made it clear he wanted only her.
“You didn’t have sex with the beautiful blonde?”
He crushed her to him, his arms winding around her in a possessive hold that shook her. “No, porca miseria! I would never do that to you, mio precioso. I promise you.”
She believed him and the relief she felt was incredible. “Good, because I would never stay with a player.”
He laughed, the sound strained. “I am no player. I am not even the playboy the press paints me. I thought you knew this. I thought you knew me.”
“I did. I do, but a picture is worth a thousand words.”
“Only if you are speaking the same language as the photographer. What that journalist caught on film was two strangers dancing, nothing more. But look at the picture we paint, amante. Look and see the difference between eyes hot to possess and a social smile that meant nothing. Look at my hands which tremble with the need to touch you, but which held the other woman with total indifference.”
His words did indeed paint a picture more powerful than the one in the scandal sheet. And the feel of his body pressed against hers backed it up. He needed her and she needed him. She’d missed him so much.
“If you are not a playboy, then what are you?” she asked provocatively.
“A mere man who wants you very much.”
She could feel how much he wanted her and it made her insides melt.
Her mind started short-circuiting as it always did when he touched her, but she could still think straight enough to say, “Maybe we need to go public with our relationship. I don’t like seeing pictures like that, Marcello. They hurt.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth, the bridge of her nose, her forehead and then her lips with aching tenderness. “You are too sweet, cara. The press would pulverize you and I could not bear to watch, but I will do all that I can to make sure you are not hurt this way again.”
That was something, she supposed, but she wanted to argue that she could handle the press. She was strong. She’d had to be her whole life. But her mouth was too busy kissing his to utter the words that needed saying.

The next morning, Marcello was gone when she woke up and so was the scandal rag, she noticed.
However, there was a red rose on his pillow and a note beside it. It read:
Cara,
Thank you for last night. I treasure our times together and the generosity of your affection for me.
M
He’d never left her a note before. His paranoia about privacy extended to not leaving any evidence of their relationship for others to find. This was a huge departure for him. It had to be significant. Maybe he was thinking about her desire to go public…maybe he was beginning to see that she was right.
The one thing she knew for certain was that his desire for her was not feigned. If he’d found relief with a convenient body while he was away from her, she was a monkey’s uncle.
He’d been way too hungry. They’d made love into the early hours of morning and he had told her repeatedly how much he missed her, how beautiful she was to him, how special. All the words her vulnerable heart longed for.
Except the three that really mattered, but then she’d never said them to him, either.
She’d always worried they would spell the end to their relationship. She’d assumed he would reject that sort of emotional tie. He’d been so clear at the beginning of their affair that it could only ever be just that. An affair with a beginning and an end and no happily ever after. She’d wanted him so much and had been so impressed with his honesty after Ray’s lies that she’d said yes.
And until she’d seen that picture in the tabloid, she’d never once regretted her choice. Marcello was an incredible lover and the time they spent together out of bed was equally fulfilling. He’d made their first time together very special and every time after.
His desire to keep their relationship underwraps had suited her down to the ground at first. She was too private a person to want to share their intimacy with the world at large. In that, too, she and Marcello were really alike. She’d seen what the gutter press could do with her friend Tara. At first, Danette had been only too happy to avoid the possibility of experiencing anything ugly and intrusive like that herself.
But beyond that, she had feared that if word of her relationship with Marcello got out, she would have to deal with interference from her well-meaning but overprotective parents. She’d also been concerned that her job might be affected, no matter how much Marcello did not want that to happen. She wanted to earn her advancement and did not want others speculating what her time between the sheets with the president of the company meant for her career.
She’d spent her whole life up to now under the watchful and overly intrusive eye of her family. It was important to her to prove that the strength it had taken to beat the scoliosis that had threatened her ability to walk, and even her life, spilled over into the rest of her existence as well.
Which was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted love or a long-term commitment in the beginning, either. She’d spent years in a sort of self-imposed isolation because of the brace she’d worn until she was nineteen to correct the deforming curve in her spine. And she’d wanted to feel what it was to be a woman. She’d wanted to date, to kiss, to heavy pet and ultimately to make love.
She’d wanted Marcello beyond reason and independently of finer feelings…or at least that was what she’d thought.
When she’d arrived in Italy, the farthest thing from her mind had been a desire to get into another relationship. She’d been bent on proving she wasn’t as stupid as Ray’s betrayal had made her feel. The first time they met, Marcello had unwittingly given her the means to do so.
She’d been feeling frustrated with herself because Angelo had arranged for her job, wondering if she could ever make it entirely on her own. She didn’t know if everyone was so nice because they liked her, or because they wanted to do Angelo a favor…or at least please their boss who had extended the favor to his good friend.
She’d been in the middle of a royal bout of insecurity when Marcello made his first appearance at her desk. “You are the friend of Angelo Gordon’s wife, are you not?” he’d asked without bothering to introduce himself.
She’d known who he was of course and even how he preferred to be addressed within Scorsolini Shipping. “Yes, Signor Scorsolini. I’m Danette Michaels.”
“Angelo speaks highly of you.”
“I’m glad. I loved my job with his company.”
“But you wanted a change of venue, to see some of the world?” he asked with a blue gaze that could probe into the very depths of her soul.
“Yes.”
He nodded. “You realize that my good friend’s reputation in my eyes depends a great deal on your performance here.” He didn’t say it unkindly, or as if in warning, more like he was confirming something she already knew.
But it was news to her…welcome news. It gave her a target to aim for and said that, far from awarding her special treatment, he would expect more from her than his other employees. The words were like honey to her ears and she lapped them up. “I won’t let either of you down.”
“I do not doubt this. I am sure that because you came to work for me on his recommendation, you will work twice as hard to prove that he was smart to recommend you.”
“You’re right, I will.” And it was a vow.
He smiled then, giving her her first taste of mind-numbing physical awareness. “Don’t work too hard. But I do not believe you will let either of us down.”
And in proving him right, she made the job her personal triumph. Every success she achieved was a gift she consciously gave to both men who had chosen to believe in her and subconsciously gave to herself. When she had been promoted and given her own office after only four months because of her diligence, Marcello had called to personally congratulate her and Angelo had sent her an e-mail thanking her for making him look so good to his friend.
It had all been very feel good and laid a strong foundation for her growing confidence as an independent woman. Marcello asking her out had added to that confidence though she’d definitely been leery of him to begin with.

Danette worked on her sales projection report, determined to make her boss glad he’d promoted her and given her a private office. If there was a part of her that wanted to impress the president of the company, too, well, that was to be expected.
After all, he’d arranged for her to get her current job on the recommendation of his friend and she didn’t want him to regret that choice, either. It had nothing to do with the fact that every time she saw him, her breathing and pulse rate went wacko.
She wasn’t interested in risking her heart again and for sure not with a man of Prince Marcello Scorsolini’s playboy reputation.
“Do you realize the time, Danette?”
Her head snapped up at the sound of the company president’s voice coming from her open doorway.
“Signor Scorsolini!” She jumped up from her chair, looking around her, trying to focus on the now while her mind was still stuck on sales figures.
The hall outside her office was on dimmed lighting for after hours and the silence surrounding them told her that she was one of the few people left in the building. The small clock on her desk said it was eight o’clock.
Her mouth rounded in an, “Oh…” and then she gave him a rueful grimace. “No wonder my legs feel like they’ve petrified in one position.”
“You work too hard.”
She laughed as she stretched, realizing as she did so that her entire body was seriously cramped from sitting at her desk for so long. “That’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think? Your workaholic hours are legendary around here.”
“I do not expect my employees to give up all life outside of work in order to serve Scorsolini Shipping.” He watched her stretch with disturbing intensity. “It is not the same for me. I have more reasons than most company presidents to make sure my business is a success.”
“What do you mean?” she asked curiously as she smoothed her hair with a nervous hand.
The flirtatious facade she had created to deal with men deserted her in his company. She was lucky to string two syllables together that made sense when he spoke to her.
“The people of my country rely on the income from Scorsolini Shipping worldwide to maintain a standard of living in line with the other industrialized nations.”
“You mean Isole dei Re?”
“Yes, naturally.”
She didn’t want to sit down again, but she felt exposed standing there behind her desk. She compromised by busying herself stacking the papers related to the sales projection report. It was the way he was looking at her…not at all like a boss looks at his employee.
More like a predator sizing up its prey.
She searched her mind for something to say. “I don’t understand how Isole dei Re can be so reliant on this division of Scorsolini Shipping. There are only a handful of your countrymen and women employed here.”
“You know this how?”
“I asked.”
“It is interesting that you care.” His still predatory gaze probed her speculatively.
“Everything about the company I work for interests me.”
Marcello moved further into the room. “And the man you work for, does he interest you, I wonder?”
“You didn’t just say that.” She stared at him, shock coursing through her.
He smiled, his blue eyes full of knowing amusement. “I did, but we will leave it for the moment and I will answer your other question. While I do not employ many of my country’s subjects, half of the net profits of all Scorsolini companies are paid into the national treasury and used to maintain and improve the country’s infrastructure.”
“You mean things like hospitals?” she asked, fascinated. It had never occurred to her that the royal family gave back to their country on such an overwhelming scale.
“That and roads, schools, police and fire departments…the many things citizens of larger countries take for granted as being paid for by tax dollars.”
“Wow.”
“The money must come from somewhere.”
“And Scorsolini Shipping is it?”
“Along with what tax dollars we do receive in revenue and the other enterprises of our country. My older brother, Tomasso, has recently supervised the discovery of lithium mines on Rubino. He has taken Scorsolini Mining and Jewels to an unprecedented level.” His voice rang with pride in his brother’s achievement.
“Funny, that’s what Angelo Gordon told me you had done with the Italian arm of Scorsolini Shipping.”
“My father and older brother are pleased with my efforts.”
“They should be.” And then she blushed at the vehemence of her words.
But he smiled, apparently pleased by her words. “My older brother, Claudio, has recently informed me that when he ascends to the throne, he and Tomasso have agreed that I will take over the entire shipping company while Tomasso maintains his position as head of Scorsolini Mining and Jewels.”
“Did that surprise you?”
He nodded, coming closer, his presence filling her senses. “Normally the second son would take that position and I would either continue as I am or take Tomasso’s position, but because he has taken that side of our family’s holdings so far and my brothers and father are content with my performance here, I will be given the honor.”
“That’s wonderful! I suppose you celebrated by working a few extra twenty-hour days,” she teased, knowing from the company grapevine that was exactly what he’d been doing lately.
He came around the desk and leaned against it, not six inches from where she stood. “Just as you have done?”
“Touché.” She stopped in the act of reaching for the papers she’d stacked so she could file them. Doing so would require leaning into him and her senses were headed toward overload as it was. “I just don’t want my boss to regret his decision to promote me,” she said a trifle breathlessly.
“I also feel this need…in relation to the confidence my family has put in me.”
His scent was teasing at her olfactory senses and she wanted to get closer, which was insane under the circumstances. “I guess…um…that we have something in common.”
He reached out and touched her. Just a light brush against her cheek, but she felt paralyzed by it.
“Perhaps more than this single thing,” he suggested.
Her face tingled where he had brushed it. “I can’t imagine that we could have much else. Our lives are very different.”
“Perhaps, but I think you are wrong. Will you have dinner with me tonight to find out?”
“What?” She shook her head, trying to clear it. The president of Scorsolini Shipping had asked her out on a date?
“I would like you to have dinner with me.”
“But…”
“I like you, Danette, and I hope you like me, too.” But his confident smile said he already knew she did, that he knew exactly the effect his nearness was having on her body.
“Of course I like you, but you asked me out on a date. I’m not your type.”
“And you base this assumption on what?”
“Everybody knows you date really gorgeous women.”
“You are beautiful.”
She snorted at that. “I have a mirror. I’m nothing like the women you normally have your picture taken with.”
“That is window dressing…a facade I present to the world to keep my private life private.” He looked so sincere, but he couldn’t be serious.
“But—”
“Come to dinner with me and see what kind of man I am when the paparazzi are not present with their insidious cameras.”
“My job…” she said uncertainly.
“I make you this promise, Danette. Your job will not be influenced for good or for ill regardless of what happens or does not happen between us.”
“So, if I say no to your dinner invitation?” she asked.
“I will be disappointed, but that will have no impact on your employment, advancement or type of opportunities given here at Scorsolini Shipping. To be fair, I must also tell you that even if you were to become my lover, that would not impact those same things in a positive way, either.”
“I never for a moment would have expected them to.”
“You are very naive.”
“There’s nothing naive about believing that a person should earn their job advancement.”
He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “I like that about you and I agree.”
“Good.”
“So, will you allow me to take you to dinner?”
Every logical impulse in her body screamed at her to tell him no. She didn’t want to get into a relationship, but dinner wasn’t exactly a promise for the future. Maybe he was only interested in friendship. But he’d mentioned being her lover. That implied a lot more than chatting over coffee.
Oddly enough, it was the prospect of the more that had her so horribly tempted. She’d dated so little in her life and she’d never spent so much as half an hour with a man as intriguing as Marcello. Not unless you counted Angelo Gordon, but he belonged to her friend and even he didn’t stir her latent sexuality the way that Marcello did.
Ray certainly never had, the lying sneak.
This wasn’t about love and happily ever after, she told herself, it was about experiencing feelings she’d denied herself far too long.
“Okay. I’ll have dinner with you.”

CHAPTER THREE
HE TOOK her to a small, family run restaurant outside of Palermo. It was a quarter to nine by the time they reached it. She’d learned Europeans often ate late. The owner was more than happy to give them a table.
As a dinner companion, Marcello lived up to every concept she had of him. He was charming, attentive and so sexy that her body thrummed with an awareness she’d never experienced with another man.
He poured her a second glass of the rich red wine he’d ordered with dinner. “So, Angelo said you were ready for a change and that is why you came to Sicily.”
She’d noticed since coming to Palermo that Sicilians made a distinction between themselves and other Italians, as if they were their own separate country. Marcello did the same thing even though technically, he was from another country altogether. She had heard that his mother was Sicilian. Perhaps that accounted for it.
“Yes, I needed a change.”
“Was there a man involved?”
Strangely she did not find his question intrusive. In an inexplicable way, she felt she could tell him almost anything. “Yes.”
“What happened?” he asked with an expression that compelled her to share her deepest secrets with him.
“How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Make me feel like I should tell you everything in my head.”
“Ah…there is a lot more to being the head of an international business than being able to count money.”
She laughed. “I know that, but I wasn’t aware that playing the role of father confessor was part of it.”
“You would be surprised. Now tell me about the boyfriend.”
“I thought he loved me, but he used me to get pictures of Tara and Angelo so he could break into tabloid journalism.”
“He was the one responsible for those stories about them in the scandal rags last year?”
“Yes. They hurt Tara, a lot. She’d been savaged by the press once before and Ray’s antics got her fired before Angelo found out what had happened.”
“I hate the tabloids.”
“But you’re in them so often.”
“Like I told you, I create a facade for them to latch on to so they leave my real life alone.”
She’d done the very same thing as a small child. She’d created an image of an outgoing, confident girl that hid her private thoughts and feelings. No matter how intrusively doctors, or even her own parents, played their roles in her life, there was an interior Danette who remained sacrosanct to her alone.
Knowing they shared such a coping mechanism made her feel close to him in a way she would not have thought possible.
“Tell me more about Ray,” Marcello said.
“There isn’t much to tell. He was looking for the main chance and took it, not caring who he hurt or how much he hurt them. I think that’s what devastated me the most. He couldn’t have known my best friend was going to get involved with a media interest like Angelo Gordon, or that her notoriety would be so easily revived.”
At least that’s what she’d thought. “Our relationship started out for the usual reasons…I think. My family is wealthy and maybe he figured all along that I might take him into circles he could use to advance his career goals, but I really think that he saw the main chance and just went for it.”
“And this hurt you?”
“Very much, but I’m over him now.” And she was. It had happened faster than she’d thought it could.
The move to Italy had been the right choice.
“The betrayal by a lover is the most devastating.”
“He wasn’t my lover, thank goodness.”
“So, the relationship wasn’t very old?”
“That depends on how you define old. We were together for a few months.”
“And he did not take you to bed?”
“It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part,” she said, stung that Marcello should think that she wasn’t fanciable.
“No doubt. Why did you hold back from him?”
“It never felt right. It made him angry, but I didn’t realize how much. He said some very cutting things when we broke up.”
“I see.”
“Do you? What do you see, Signor Scorsolini?”
“First that you must call me Marcello when we are away from the company.”
She smiled despite the heavy feelings in her heart from her trip down memory lane. “All right.”
“Second, that the man was a fool and obviously not very good in the seduction stakes.”
“Or I’m not easily seduced.”
“Be assured, I love a challenge.”
She gasped at his blatant claim and the implication of it. “I’m not looking for that right now.”
“But you have found it, as I will delight in showing you. I want you and I intend to have you.”
But he didn’t push for even a good-night kiss when he took her home that night. And it was the same on the three dates they had after that over the next two weeks. No matter what he had said, he seemed perfectly happy with a platonic friendship, while her physical awareness of him grew with every moment spent in his company.
She even started having sexy dreams about him. She would wake up feeling embarrassed by her obvious desire and disturbed by the strength of it…not to mention how easily he’d infiltrated her subconscious as well as her conscious life.
He’d asked her to maintain their status quo at work and to keep their time together strictly confidential. She’d agreed without pause. No one was going to accuse her of trading on a relationship with a man to get ahead in her career. Besides, there was something really alluring about clandestine meetings with the super sexy Marcello.
She loved talking to him on the phone and knowing that they were carrying on a conversation on a whole level that the people around them knew nothing about. Then he had to go away on a business trip and she missed him like crazy. He only called once and it was a short conversation. It had to be…she’d been at work.
They had plans to eat out the night after he got back, but when he came to pick her up, she had made dinner. She wanted time with him, to be completely natural together and the only way for that to happen was behind closed doors.
He sniffed appreciatively when she ushered him inside. “It smells so good, I almost want to beg to stay in and have leftovers.”
“We are staying in, only they aren’t leftovers. I made dinner.”
“Is it a special occasion?”
“I thought I could teach you how to play Golf.”
His brow drew together in puzzlement as he looked around the cottage’s small living room. “I am already a competent golfer.”
She laughed at his incomprehension. “It’s a card game and one of the few that is as much fun with two people as four.”
“Oh. Cards?”
“I thought you might be happier eating in and relaxing than going out to a restaurant, but if you’d rather…I can just wrap dinner up and get my coat.”
“Not at all. I have never had a woman cook for me.”
“Not even your wife?”
He rarely mentioned Bianca, but she knew he’d married young and his wife had died in a tragic accident.
“To my knowledge, Bianca did not know how to cook.”
“Was she a princess?”
“To me? Yes, but she was not born to royalty. She was from a very wealthy Sicilian family. Her mother was my mother’s best friend.”
“It sounds like a match made in heaven.”
“It was, but I lived in hell on earth when she died.”
Why that should hurt so much to hear, she didn’t know, but she did realize it wasn’t all pain on his behalf. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. They say time heals all wounds.”
“I don’t know about healing, but it does dull the pain…or makes it easier to cope with.”
“Are you talking about Ray here?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Funny, how she’d told him so much about herself, but never about her corrected spinal deformity. It was too painful to talk about even now. The wounds it had visited on her life were too deep to expose to him or anyone else, for that matter.
She’d never told anyone about her decision not to have children because of it, or how alienated she’d felt from the world around her and even from her own body. Her brace had acted as a barrier between her and the sensation of touch for thirteen years. It had also distorted her view of her body. How could she explain what it was like to look into the mirror and see a figure that was defined by an expensive plastic encasement? She could not even be sure whether the curves were hers, or the result of the brace.
When she’d finally stopped wearing it, she had been afraid her body would change back, that her spine would curve once again and that the female curves she saw in the mirror would disappear now that their plastic encasement was gone. She’d been twenty-one before she’d finally decided her body really was hers again.
And even then, she often saw the brace when she looked in the mirror, rather than the actual woman looking back at her.
She shrugged. “Everyone has pain in their lives, Marcello. I’m no different, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask you about Bianca to hurt you.”
He touched her hand—nothing sexy, just a small brushing of their fingers—but her entire body felt like it had been electrified. “You did not. You never dig for juicy details or push me to bare my emotions. I appreciate that.”
She laughed. “You would. The only person I know who is more private about their feelings than myself, is you.”
“I would not have guessed you were such a private person at first.”
“Protective persona. Most of us have them.”
“Not my brothers. What you see is what you get with them.”
“Are you sure about that? I bet even your father has an image he allows the rest of the world to see that protects the man behind his skin…the man who isn’t a king.”
“There, I know you are wrong. King Vincente is exactly as he appears to be. A sovereign to the marrow of his bones.”
“Or he’s just very adept at hiding any weakness, even from the people he loves the most.”
“Trust me, his weaknesses are in no way hidden.”
She had a hard time believing the son could be so very different from the father, but she didn’t know either well enough to argue the point. “Whatever you say.”
“I say that I am very appreciative that you chose to cook for me.”
She smiled and led him to the small dining room, where she’d set the table with candles and her best dishes.
“It looks like a scene set for seduction.”
“Maybe it is,” she joked.
He turned to face her and put his hand on her face, the warm fingers sending more tingles of sensation zinging through her body. “I would not mind.”
“I was only kidding.”
“I am not.”
“Um…maybe you had better sit down.”
He sat and he said nothing more, but he kept giving her looks throughout dinner that were as effective as any caress.
Afterward, they took dessert, a homemade lemon sorbet, into the living room.
He pulled her to the sofa beside him, their hips touching. “Dinner was fantastic. Thank you, cara.”
“You…you’re welcome.”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“I…”
“Do you mind?”
“No.” This was what she had wanted when she invited him to stay in for dinner, but when it came to the sticking point, she was nervous.
What if he found her as big a dud as Ray had done?
Marcello followed through on his promise to kiss her with a thoroughness that had her clinging to his shoulders while desire pooled low in her belly. He tasted like the lemon sorbet and sexy, delectable male. It was so different than when Ray had kissed her. With Marcello, she just wanted more and more and more. And he gave it to her, exploring her mouth with his tongue and letting her return the favor.
Finally he ended the kiss with a series of gentle pecks on her swollen lips. He lifted his head. “That went well, cara. I think we should do it again.”
She nodded, incapable of speech.
Then he put his hands on her waist and brushed his thumbs up and down over her rib cage. “But this time, I want you sitting on my lap.”
He couldn’t know it, but that kind of touch was incredibly foreign to her. She’d developed habits as a child that kept people at a distance physically. Unconsciously she’d avoided Ray’s touch as well. And when they did neck, he’d had a tendency to go straight for certain body parts. She hadn’t enjoyed his caresses all that much and had assumed it was because she just wasn’t very sexual. She now realized she’d been absolutely, terribly…no, wonderfully wrong.
Because she was reacting to Marcello’s touch like a woman who had been in a desert her whole life and was just now stumbling on the Lake Erie of sensation. And in many ways, it was true.
Ray had not had the water she needed, but she felt drenched by emotions from Marcello’s touch.
She scooted into his lap, loving the feel of his hard thighs below her. His hands moved around to caress her back with an erotic sweeping motion that made her tremble.
“You’re very good at this.”
He laughed and pressed his lips to hers again.
His hands moved all over her body in gentle, brushing strokes that made her feel like he was trying to see her with his hands. It was amazing and she grew scorching hot as her breasts swelled inside her lacy bra cups and the place between her legs grew damp and achingly swollen.
He stopped kissing her. “Don’t you want to touch me?”
“Huh…what?” she asked, dazed by the deep, dark cravings rolling through her.
“Your hands are clenched at your sides.”
“Oh, I don’t mean them to be.” And to prove she meant what she said, she splayed her fingers across his chest.
Heat emanated from him to her fingertips, even through his clothes. “I want to feel your skin.”
“Then do it. I am not going to turn down any way you want to touch me, Danette.”
There was something important in that reassurance, but she couldn’t work it out in her head right now.
She unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands and touched him with those same trembling fingers. She’d never felt this way touching Ray, like she was on a very important journey of discovery. One that would kill her if she didn’t take it.
She explored Marcello’s chest with total concentration given to every nuance of feeling, every detail of his masculine build her fingertips encountered. His muscles made ridges under his bronzed skin. The dark, curling hair that covered his chest and disappeared in an enticing V into his pants was surprisingly soft to the touch. Shouldn’t male hair be coarse and, well…manly? But it felt so sexy, so incredible…and the skin beneath it was so warm. It was like touching heated satin.
She traced each ridge and she pressed her fingertip into his belly button while her thumb brushed the hair-roughened skin below it.
He groaned. “Cara, you are playing with fire there.”
He was fire…all elemental heat. Everything a man should be for a woman.
Her hands swept up his torso, stopping at his rigid male nipples. “You are so different from me,” she breathed.
He choked out a laugh. “You talk like you’ve never touched a man before.”
“I haven’t. Not like this.”
His hands froze in the act of pushing her top up to expose her skin to his heated gaze.
“What are you saying? Tesoro, you cannot be a virgin. I do not believe it.”
She stared at him, and then blinked, trying to make sense of his shock. “Why not? I told you that Ray was not my lover.”
“But surely there have been other men.”
“No.”
“But American girls date in high school and college. Everyone knows this to be true.”
“This one didn’t.” The passion clouding her brain began to fade. “I never had a boyfriend.”
“Why not? Were your parents too protective?”
“You could say that.” And she hadn’t wanted to date, either. She didn’t like explaining about the brace and no way would she have let a boy touch her and touch it. She couldn’t stand being so exposed.
Marcello moved back from her, gently removing her hands from his body. “This is not right. I thought you were a woman of experience. I cannot take your innocence.”
No, he couldn’t mean it. This wasn’t some Victorian tragedy. She was a modern woman, and perhaps waiting for marriage was something she’d thought at one time she would do, but she didn’t feel that way right now. She didn’t want any other man to be her first.
Only this one.
“But I can give it to you.”
“I am not looking for marriage here. I do not want a long-term relationship.”
“I’m not looking for marriage, either.” She’d missed out on so much, the dating, the furtive moments of passion teenagers share, the love affairs in college. “I want to experience it all with you, Marcello. I trust you.”
“But you are a virgin. You should wait until you get married.”
“I want you to be my first man. I’ve never felt this kind of desire before and I’m afraid I’ll never feel this way again. I sure didn’t with Ray.”
“He was a creep.”
“Yes, but you’re not. I know you won’t hurt me…I know you can make it special my first time.”
“You know this, huh?”
“You may not be the playboy the media paints you, but you’re experienced enough to know what you’re doing. You make me crazy just being with you.” She didn’t want to beg, but she was close. “If you want me, too…at least a little…I want you to be my first lover.”
“I want you a great deal more than a little,” he growled, his eyes shooting blue flame at her. The hottest kind of flame and she felt singed to the depths of her soul.
“I’m glad, Marcello, because I want you a lot, too.”
“Our relationship remains strictly private. I will not allow the media into my personal life, which means others cannot know about us, either.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.”

Danette abruptly returned to the present. She hadn’t had a problem with the secrecy then…. but this was now and she did have a problem with it. A big problem. She just wasn’t sure what she could do about it.
If anything.
She loved him and that love demanded a role in his life that stretched beyond a secret affair. Maybe if she told him her feelings he would acknowledge his own and they could move to the next step in their relationship.
It wasn’t that she thought he lacked confidence. If he knew he loved her, he would say so, but his heart was locked up tight behind the wall he’d built after Bianca’s death. Danette had managed to knock out chinks here and there, evidenced by the fact that their relationship had lasted so long and how much time they spent together doing stuff besides making love.
While he refused to tell her how many women had come before her, he had let slip that none of them had lasted beyond a very brief liaison. He had been with her for six months and made no indications he was even thinking about moving on.
There was also the fact that he frequently made love to her without protection. He’d done so again the night before.
The first time it had happened, she’d been shocked by her response. Since she had decided as a teenager not to have children and risk passing on her spinal deformity, she should have been really upset by his lapse. But her first reaction to the realization he’d forgotten the condom had not been dismay. Far from it: she’d had a piercingly sweet image of a little boy with her eyes and Marcello’s smile.
She had experienced a craving for that child that was so great, it had been a physical pain in her chest.
Nevertheless, she’d brought up the option of her going on the pill, but Marcello had been adamant it was not necessary. He knew from one of the many discussions they had on every topic under the sun that she had some family history of breast cancer, and therefore concerned about the possible increased risk from long-term use of the pill.
She’d agreed to allow him to continue to be responsible for the birth control and had not raised the issue again the next time he forgot. Instead she’d researched the probability of passing her severe idiomatic juvenile scoliosis onto her children. She’d discovered that, far from what she’d feared, there was actually no known genetic predisposition for what had happened to her.
She couldn’t dismiss the very real fact that her mother had been afflicted with a less severe case. Even so, she’d all but convinced herself it was a risk worth taking. She refused to allow her childhood disease and what it represented to stand between her and Marcello.
Right now, she had to weigh the fact that he talked like the future was uncertain for them against the fact that he forgot to use birth control almost as often as he remembered. No man took that many risks with pregnancy when he hated the idea of spending his future with the woman involved.
Marcello wasn’t the irresponsible kind. If she got pregnant, she knew he’d want to marry her. He had a strong sense of moral and family responsibility. Both of which would require that his child not be born illegitimate. In turn, that must mean he was considering a future with her, even if he was leery about admitting it to her, or even to himself.
It might be a subconscious thing on his part, but his actions spoke loud and clear about where he was at with her emotionally. At least she hoped they did. No amount of wishful surmising on her part could replace hearing the words from his lips.
His wife’s death had devastated him. She’d quickly realized that he didn’t want to risk that kind of pain again, but she could have told him that love did not respect the fear of being hurt.
Just look at her. She had come to Italy licking her wounds. She’d been grateful for the job that Angelo had gotten her so that she could get away from her memories. And she’d been convinced that the last thing she would allow herself to do was to get embroiled in another relationship. Only, that was exactly what she had done and she’d gotten in deeper with Marcello after two weeks than she had in months with Ray.

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