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The Royal House of Niroli: Billion Dollar Bargains: Bought by the Billionaire Prince / The Tycoon's Princess Bride
CAROL MARINELLI
NATASHA OAKLEY
In Niroli there’s a high price to pay for giving in to temptation…Bought by the Billionaire PrinceMegan’s stunned when she’s thrown into jail after only one night working at ruthless Prince Luca’s casino. And she is even more surprised that her unlikely saviour is her new boss, Luca! But her rescue comes at a price. She’s now entirely at his mercy!The Tycoon’s Princess BridePrincess Isabella’s about to sign a contract that will ensure the future prosperity of Niroli. Yet there’s just one problem… Domenic Vincini. He can make or break the deal. And gorgeous Domenic’s got passionate plans of his own… The richest royal family in the world – united by blood and passion, torn apart by deceit and desire



THE
Royal HOUSE OF NIROLI
SEMPRE APPASSIONATO, SEMPRE FIERO
Always passionate, always proud
The richest royal family in the world— united by blood and passion, torn apart by deceit and desire
Complete your collection with all four books!
The Royal House of Niroli: Scandalous Seductions
The Royal House of Niroli: Billion Dollar Bargains
The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses
The Royal House of Niroli: Secret Heirs
THE
Royal HOUSE OF NIROLI
Billion Dollar
Bargains
CAROL MARINELLI
NATASHA OAKLEY




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Bought by the
Billionaire Prince
CAROL MARINELLI

WELCOME TO NIROLI!
Nestled in the azure blue of the Mediterranean, the majestic island of Niroli has prospered for centuries. The Fierezza men have worn the crown with passion and pride since the Middle Ages. But now, as the King’s health declines, and his two sons have been tragically killed, the crown is in jeopardy.
The clock is ticking—a new heir must be found before the King is forced to abdicate. By royal decree the internationally scattered members of the Fierezza family are summoned to claim their destiny. But any person who takes the throne must do so according to ‘The Rules of the Royal House of Niroli’. Soon secrets and rivalries emerge as the descendants of this ancient royal line vie for position and power. Only a true Fierezza can become ruler—a person dedicated to their country, their people … and their eternal love!

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!

CHAPTER ONE
‘IS HE good-looking?’
Meg felt her teeth literally grind together as her travel companion, Jasmine, repeated the question for the hundredth time. Here they were docking in Niroli, which was undoubtedly the most beautiful island Meg had seen on her travels to date, and all Jasmine wanted to talk about was potential men.
Coming from Australia, where everything was comparatively new, Meg was in awe of the past that drenched each place she had visited on her travels through Europe, reeling at the ancient architecture and glorious tales of times gone by and, for Meg, Niroli had it all! To the South of Sicily, the island of Niroli, according to the travel guide Meg had devoured on the boat trip, was steeped in history, its colourful past filled with rivalries and wars dating back centuries and still playing out today. They’d just passed the tiny island of Mont Avellana, which, as recently as two decades ago, had been ruled by Niroli, and now they were coming into Niroli’s main port. Meg stared in wonder as they approached—sandy beaches rapidly giving way to a lush hillside, which was like a fabulous tapestry, with thick forests, and edged by vineyards that laced neatly around the sprawling town. But a grand castle set on a rocky promontory was for Meg the main focal point, standing tall and proud, looking out towards the ocean, as if somehow guarding it all.
‘That’s the palace,’ Meg pointed out to Jasmine excitedly, checking with the map to get her bearings, ‘and over to the right there’s a Roman amphitheatre….’
‘There’s a casino,’ Jasmine said, peering over Meg’s shoulder, ‘oh, and a luxury spa!’
‘We can’t afford luxury.’ Meg smiled. ‘We’re backpacking!’
‘Then we’ll just have to find someone who can!’ Jasmine countered, her mind flicking back to the inevitable. ‘So what sort of doctor is he?’
‘Who?’ Meg asked, then let out a pained sigh as Jasmine’s momentary interest in her surrounds rapidly waned. ‘Alex is a surgeon,’ Meg admitted, then wished she hadn’t, noting Jasmine’s eyes literally light up at the prospect of dating a rich surgeon—well, she could dream on. Alex was the least money-minded of persons and would see through Jasmine in a flash.
If only she had, Meg inwardly sighed. At first when Jasmine had befriended her, Meg had been only too glad of the company, only lately the very qualities that Meg had admired had started to repel. Jasmine’s impetuous nature, her carefree attitude and her obsession with men were starting to irritate, and Meg was actually looking forward to cooling off the friendship a touch—ready now to complete her journey alone.
Backpacking through Europe had seemed the most unlikely of adventures for Meg to embark on. Routine was the key in Meg’s life—routine was what saw her through. Routine was the only way she could control her life and the emotions that had overwhelmed her as she’d struggled to come to terms with her difficult childhood.
But now here she was, twenty-five years of age and ready to start living; ready to let go of a difficult past and truly embrace a world that had at times been so very cruel. Backpacking through Europe was the final self-imposed step in her recovery. Casual work, casual clothes and casual meals had at first been a huge enigma for Meg, but gradually she was starting to relax—that knot of tension that had been present for as long as she could remember was slowly unravelling and, as she stepped off the boat and took a deep cleansing breath, closed her blue eyes and turned her face up to the warm sun Meg knew there and then that she had been so right to embark on this journey—could hardly wait to tell her brother just how far she’d come.
‘Where is he?’ Jasmine’s hopeful face scanned the crowd for a first glimpse of a suitable good-looking surgeon. ‘Does he look like you?’
‘Not in the least.’ Meg laughed but didn’t elaborate. Alex Hunter was as dark as Meg Donovan was blond, his eyes black where Meg’s were blue. They looked nothing alike and with good reason—both were adopted, Alex when he was a toddler, Meg when she was twelve years old. But despite their differences, despite not sharing one shred of DNA, they were as close as any blood brother and sister.
‘Does he know what boat you’re coming on?’
‘I told him ages ago.’ Meg frowned. ‘Well, I emailed him with the details.’
‘And he got it?’ Jasmine checked.
‘Yes, I’m sure he got it,’ Meg answered, but a trickle of unease slid down her spine. ‘He should be here.’
‘Well, it doesn’t look like he is,’ Jasmine pointed out as the crowd started to disperse. ‘Maybe he’s stuck at the hospital.’
‘Maybe,’ Meg answered, but she wasn’t convinced. It was most unlike Alex to just not turn up; if he couldn’t make it himself then he’d have sent someone. ‘Though I haven’t checked my emails for ages. Maybe he’s been trying to get hold of me.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Jasmine asked, her eyes scanning the notice boards. ‘They said at the youth hostel there were usually loads of signs advertising for seasonal workers, but there doesn’t seem to be any—not that I fancy fruit-picking!’
‘It sounds fun. And you do need the work,’ Meg pointed out. Jasmine wasn’t just down to her last Euro, she was dipping into Meg’s carefully planned budget and, frankly, Meg was tired of hearing Jasmine say she’d pay her back as soon as she got some work.
‘Well, I think fruit-picking sounds awful.’ Jasmine pouted, but soon cheered up, cheekily ripping down a notice and then pocketing it. ‘This is more me. They’re looking for casual staff at the casino and there’s discounted accommodation—ooh, look, there’s even a courtesy bus.’
‘I think that’s for the clientele,’ Meg said as some holiday-makers who certainly weren’t backpackers were escorted into the luxury vehicle.
‘So?’ Jasmine shrugged and pulled on her backpack as she called to the bus driver to wait for her—Meg couldn’t help but smile; Jasmine was like a cat who always landed on her feet. ‘Come on, Meg.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Meg shook her head. ‘A casino is the last place I want to be. All that noise and bustle …’
‘All those rich men!’ Jasmine giggled and even Meg managed a laugh. ‘Come on, Meg, hold off on your search for inner peace for a few days and come and have some fun at the casino. We can share a room.’
‘It’s really not me.’ Raking a hand through her blond hair, Meg felt the salt and grease and almost relented—given Alex wasn’t here, that long soak in a bath she’d been looking forward to wasn’t going to eventuate and accommodation at the casino, even if it was budget accommodation, was surely going to be better than some of the hostels she’d stayed in. ‘I think I’ll head over to the hospital.’ Meg checked out her map. ‘It isn’t very far. Maybe he is just caught up at work. You’d better go or you’re going to miss that courtesy bus.’
‘Well, if it doesn’t work out with your brother, you know where I am.’
‘Thanks.’ Meg grinned, watching as her friend climbed on the bus and waved her off, wishing, wishing she could, even for a little while, be as happy and as carefree as Jasmine—could relax just a little bit, could have just a fraction of her confidence. The universe itself seemed to provide Jasmine with her assured nature.
Meg watched until the tiny bus disappeared from view, filled with something she couldn’t define—a hunger, a need almost for familiarity, to be able to let down her guard a touch, to be with someone who knew how hard this was for her, someone who knew that this so-called trip of a lifetime, this carefree existence, was in fact an agonising journey for her.
Where the hell was Alex?
The last e-mail he’d sent, he’d confirmed her date and time of arrival, had told her he couldn’t wait to catch up, had huge news to share. Surely if his plans had changed he’d have contacted her?
But how?
Meg closed her eyes against a temporary moment of panic. She hadn’t been near a computer for the last couple of weeks—happy the next leg of her tour had been arranged, she’d decided to cut loose for a while—and look where it had got her!
The taxi rank had long since closed, so, consulting her map, Meg set out on foot towards the Free Hospital where Alex had told her he was working. The midday sun combined with her heavy backpack made the relatively short distance seem to take for ever. How she’d have loved to have lingered and wandered through the pretty shops, but a backpack and a pressing lack of accommodation for the night didn’t allow for such luxuries, so instead Meg stopped at one of the pavement cafés and ordered a quick coffee. Watching intrigued as the town seemingly prepared for something—shopkeepers were draping their stores with huge vines, hilarity ensuing as a few vocal locals strung banners and lights across the street, calling to each other in their colourful language as children watched on gleefully.
‘Is there going to be a party?’ Meg asked one of waiters whose English was better than most.
‘A bigger party than you have ever seen!’ Filling her cup he elaborated, ‘The Niroli Feast starts tomorrow—we party for the next few days and celebrate the treasures the rich soil gives us.’
‘Here?’ Meg checked, gesturing to the street they were in, but the waiter just laughed.
‘The whole island celebrates—you must stay for it,’ he insisted as only the Italians could. ‘I ask you—why would anyone not want to stay a while in this wonderful place?’
Why indeed?
Boosted from her shot of coffee, Meg made her way more briskly to the hospital, hoping against hope that Alex would be there and trying to fathom what she’d do if he wasn’t.

‘Dr Alex Hunter!’ Meg tried to keep her voice even, trying not to show her frustration as she said her brother’s name for perhaps the tenth time. On perhaps the eleventh, the receptionist nodded her immaculately groomed head.
‘Sì, Alessandro Fierezza!’ Eagerly, again she nodded, tapping details into her computer. ‘He no here, I have no contact for him. Try palazzo!’
Help!
Meg grabbed her long hair into a tight fist and let out an exasperated breath as the receptionist called on a colleague, who spoke even less English, listening to their vibrant discussion peppered with the names Alex and Alessandro and wondering what on earth she should do.
‘Your brother marry.’
‘But my brother is not married, he’s not even engaged!’ Meg gave a helpless laugh, then shook her head as in broken English the two women attempted to explain the impossible.
‘Matrimonio,’ the receptionist said firmly, nodding as Meg frowned. ‘Your brother, Alessandro—’
‘Alex,’ Meg corrected, then slumped in defeat as the receptionist forced her to admit the truth—even if they had got the names mixed up, the simple fact was if Alex was in Niroli then he’d have met her at the port; her careful plans for the next couple of weeks flying out of the window courtesy of three little words—
‘Your brother gone.’

CHAPTER TWO
JASMINE HAD BEEN RIGHT—there was work at the casino.
Lots of it!
Working her way through mountain after mountain of white china plates, Meg tried to block out the noise of a busy kitchen—the chefs screaming at each other like proud cats fighting over territory, waiters collecting elaborate dishes, swooshing out of the swing doors only to return moments later, laden with half-eaten dishes to add to the pile Meg had been allocated. Not that Meg minded hard work, she’d been more than prepared for the back-breaking work of fruit-picking, but being shut up in a kitchen, her face red from the heat, her blond hair dark with sweat, was a million miles from what she’d envisaged from her time in Niroli.
Almost as soon as she’d found Jasmine and filled in an application form, Meg had been given a list of shifts. Six till ten o’clock each evening, paid in cash at the end of each of shift, which meant Meg had the whole day for exploring Niroli, and it paid well, much better than fruit-picking, which meant, Meg realised, if she was careful and perhaps worked a couple of extra shifts she could treat herself to a day at that luxury spa.
With renewed enthusiasm Meg tackled the mountain of plates—the last hour of her shift made so much easier by fantasising about being smeared in the famous Niroli volcanic mud she’d read about and being thoroughly pampered and spoiled for a day!
‘Faster now!’ Antoinette, her colleague for the night who was rinsing and stacking the plates that Meg was washing, egged her on in her broken English, but kindly. ‘We need empty sink for next staff. Or else they …’ She didn’t finish what she was saying—in fact a ream of sentences and orders around the kitchen remained forever incomplete, broken off midword for a reason Meg couldn’t yet fathom—the swing doors opened and an immediate hush descended on the busy kitchen as a group of dark suits entered.
‘Ah—sir!’ The head chef jumped to nervous attention as he approached the foreboding-looking men that had entered, yet he addressed only the leader.
And even if he hadn’t uttered a single word, even if she had no idea who he was, Meg knew that he was very much in charge. His jet hair was a head above the rest of them, but it wasn’t just his height that set him apart—there was an authoritative air about him that would hush any room, an intimidating and overwhelming presence that had everyone in the kitchen, Meg included, on heightened alert.
‘Who is he?’ Meg whispered to Antoinette as slowly he toured the kitchen, talking with the staff as he did so. There was a slightly depraved look to him, a dangerous glint in those black eyes as he worked the room.
‘That,’ Antoinette said, in broken English, ‘is the boss, Luca Fierezza. He owns the casino. A prince.’
For a simple woman like Antoinette, Meg reasoned, such an enigmatic personality would seem like a prince. Not for a second did it enter her head that nothing had been lost in translation.
He was over at the far end now, talking with some of the kitchen staff, and Meg quickly realised that this was far more than a cursory appearance by the owner, that he was actually listening to what they were saying, taking in every word and relaying them to one of his sidekicks who was faithfully writing down each word.
‘He comes often,’ Antoinette said. ‘He make sure that everything work okay. See, now Mario tell him the trouble we are having with the shrimp—the yield was low this last two days …’
‘Is that his concern?’ When Antoinette frowned Meg attempted to make herself clearer. ‘Isn’t that a problem for the kitchen?’
‘He makes it his concern,’ Antoinette said, an almost proud note to her voice as she did, letting Meg know she had understood her the first time. ‘This casino is the best place to play and to work—Luca makes sure of that. I work here under four different owners and he is the best.
‘Come—’ she nudged Meg ‘—work now. He is coming.’ Meg could feel him making his way over, feel the thick tension in the air as he worked the room, the raucous sound of the earlier kitchen replaced now by the quiet hum of ordered efficiency.
‘Antoinette!’ he greeted the elderly lady by her first name. ‘Come stai?’ How are you?
‘Molto bene, grazie.’ Very well, thank you. Antoinette carried on working as she spoke, kept her head down as she addressed her boss, but, Meg noted, even if his greeting had been personable and friendly, Antoinette was keeping her respectful distance, a clear pecking order on display.
Meg glanced over as he walked past, gave him a brief polite nod as he did the same, and then picked up a plate, swishing the cloth over it, waiting for him to move on—a casual kitchen hand undoubtedly didn’t merit Antoinette’s more familiar greeting—only he didn’t move on! Meg could feel him standing over her shoulder; feel the burn of his eyes on the back of her neck as he questioned Antoinette.
Antoinette introduced Meg and he asked something in Italian, his rich, fluid voice prompting Meg to briefly turn around.
‘She’s a good worker,’ Antoinette responded to his question as Luca ran a dismissive eye over her, and, turning her back on him, Meg plunged her hands back into the soapy water, her skin red—not from heat or exertion, instead embarrassment, humiliation prickling every nerve as they openly discussed her without inclusion.
She was beautiful.
Luca had noticed her the second he’d walked into the kitchen, her blond head amidst the many dark ones immediately drawing his attention, her tall, willowy body forcing his gaze.
She didn’t belong in the kitchen—that tall, delicate frame would wear the finest of gowns with ease; those long, delicate fingers should be wrapped around the silverware on the other side of the door; those full lips should be tasting the delicacies produced here, not clearing the aftermath. Yet she clearly thought otherwise. There was nothing martyred in her stance as she worked on, unlike some of the foreigners who came to the island—he had met one just moments before. Bold as brass, she had deemed herself too good for the manual work behind the scenes.
Only this lady was too good for this.
Too good for here, only she didn’t know it yet—and now she was turning her back on him.
Luca felt the discomfort of his staff around him, registered the appalled look on Antoinette’s face as this Meg broke with protocol as she turned her slender back to him and proceeded to work on, but instead of feeling enraged, instead of demanding that she face him when he spoke, unusually he smiled and took a step closer to her. For the first time he inhaled the scent of her and it was like pulling the stopper on a fragrance bottle, a heady rush of femininity filling his nostrils, his first instinct to touch her shoulder, to turn her around to face him, but he resisted. Instead he clenched his fingers into his palms—there would be time for that later.
There would be a later.
Luca knew that with the certainty of a man who always got his own way. A combination of wealth, power and devilish good looks were a heady cocktail no woman had ever refused—at least not for long. The pleasure of pursuit was a skill Luca never needed for more than the short-term. But chatting up a lowly kitchen hand was far from Luca’s style, so quickly he came up with what he deemed a suitable solution, addressing her for the first time in English.
‘We need blondes out on the casino floor. You come and see me tomorrow and we can discuss something—’
‘No, thank you,’ Meg interrupted, still keeping her back to him, still not looking at him, but at least she was moving now—quickly washing the dishes, anger fuelling her, appalled at the gall of him.
‘I am offering you a promotion.’
‘And I’m declining,’ Meg answered through gritted teeth, her hand reaching for the hose to rinse the plates and sorely tempted to turn it on him, but Luca wasn’t about to be dismissed, his voice authoritative, almost daring her to defy him.
‘You will turn around and face me when I speak with you.’
Oh, she’d face him, all right, Meg decided, swinging her blond head around, more than ready to give him a piece of her mind, more than ready to tell him just what he could do with his blatant chauvinism, but again she hadn’t counted on the effect of Luca up close and personal.
He was savagely good-looking.
Savage, because the effect of him close up was utterly brutal—like staring into the sun. His beauty, his presence was so dazzling, so blinding that, though the sensible thing to do was surely tear her eyes away, to shield herself from his effect, Meg found it impossible. Instead, she took in the impeccable attire, the raven hair without even a fleck of silver, and his exquisitely chiselled face that hadn’t met with a razor for the last couple of days, the dark stubble of regrowth giving him a bandit-like appearance.
Danger!
Her mind was screaming it, playing out the message in stereo in her head, yet for once her body wasn’t listening. Instead it was flaming into a wicked response caused by a mere look from him and now burning with awareness as his eyes leisurely worked her, leaving Meg to beg the perilous question as to how she would respond if he so much as touched her.
‘I’d prefer to work in the kitchen …’ Her voice was a croak, her protest pathetically weak compared to the one she had intended, but Luca wasn’t listening anyway.
‘You work where I tell you to. Nine o’clock tomorrow.’ His thickly accented voice clipped his order and Meg stiffened. ‘You come and see me then, tell the security staff who you are when you arrive and they will show you where to go—oh, and wear something nice.’
‘Lucky you.’ Antoinette beamed as Luca stalked out of the kitchen followed by his entourage, but normal services were definitely not resumed, every member of the kitchen crew staring at her, awaiting her reaction as Antoinette excitedly chatted on. ‘Tomorrow you will be working on the casino floor—’
‘I don’t want to,’ Meg broke in. ‘I’ve already told him that!’ But Antoinette firmly shook her head, her voice more insistent now.
‘You will do as Luca says. You have to go and see him—he has ordered you.’
‘He can order away,’ Meg said grimly, peeling off her drenched apron as Antoinette did the same, the long, exhausting shift over, and even as they took their work cards to the management and were paid for their time, somehow Meg knew that tonight had been her first and final foray as a kitchen hand at the Niroli casino, that when she didn’t turn up tomorrow for promotion, her services would no longer be required.
But it wasn’t a lack of work that was troubling Meg.
It was the effect that look had had on her—the fact that, despite her brave words, despite his appalling rudeness, she was actually thinking of going to see him again tomorrow.
Meg practically ran back to her hotel room, ran as if the devil himself were chasing her, but she couldn’t outrun her feelings, shocking emotions beating her to her door.
With one look, one brief exchange, it was as if he’d somehow reached inside and flicked a switch, aroused feelings that were so deeply buried Meg was barely aware of their existence—till now. It was as if he’d undressed her right there in the kitchen with his black, knowing eyes, as if in the two seconds he’d graced her with, somehow he had peeled away every layer of clothing, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. And if ever it were possible to make love to someone and never even touch them, then that was surely what had just happened.
Tomorrow morning she’d pack her things and head to Mont Avellana, look for work in the vineyards or orange groves. She was tired of Jasmine anyway; it wasn’t running away, Meg countered her own question as her shaking hand put the key in the lock.
It was about staying in control.

CHAPTER THREE
‘COME ON, Meg—loosen up and live a little!’
Since Meg had arrived back from her shift Jasmine had been attempting to persuade her to dress up and venture out to explore the night life on their doorstep, but it was positively the last thing Meg felt like doing. They’d been travelling since the early morning, she’d worked in the hot kitchen and that was all on top of the disappointment of missing Alex. Stepping out of the shower and falling into bed were the only things on her mind; except it was their last night together and loosen up and live a little had been the exact reasons for this trip. Though she might be travelling lightly, Meg’s emotional baggage was weighty and few would ever know the supreme effort it took for Meg to give a casual shrug of her shoulders and finally nod in agreement. ‘Just for a couple of hours,’ Meg warned, peeling open her backpack and peering inside.
‘Well, hurry up and don’t take for ever deciding what to wear!’
Which was a joke only backpackers could understand! In an attempt to travel lightly, Meg had packed only one outfit suitable for a glamorous night out—which on the positive side removed the usual angst of what to wear, whilst on the down side.
What had she been thinking when she’d packed it?
The short black tube skirt had seemed a good choice when packing as it took up a mere square inch of her backpack, and the crushed silk azure top took up even less space; only they showed off way more of her body than Meg really felt comfortable with—the confident, assured woman she had envisaged wearing these was probably a few weeks further into her getting her life together.
Stepping back, Meg stared at her reflection, took in the slender, tanned body, her hair scooped up and twisted into a casual but elegant style. Her face that had been void of make-up for her entire trip seemed unfamiliar now—her blue eyes sparkling vividly with the help of shimmering eye shadow and a slick of black mascara, high cheekbones accentuated with a hint of rouge and her lips plump and full with the help of some lipstick. But despite the vision that stared back at her, despite the transformation that had taken place in the small, cramped bathroom, still Meg eyed herself critically, fighting the urge to rip off the clothes, to rub off the make-up, to dive into her bed and pull the sheet over her head. She almost hated the woman who stared back at her, the confident, feminine, sultry image that belied the terrified child inside, her exposed flesh, the curves on her body, the jutting, high breasts, provoking terror within her. She knew that tonight she’d turn heads, that men would look at her, men like Luca….
Her throat felt tight as she swallowed hard, forced herself to relive that brief encounter. She could feel his eyes burning her skin all over again, the shock of sexual awareness fizzing through her body no matter how she’d tried to douse it. Since she’d first glimpsed him, since first he’d stepped closer into her personal space, Meg had felt unsettled, as if he’d taken some imaginary spoon and skillfully stirred her somewhere deep inside.
He was beautiful—even that blatantly obvious acknowledgement was a monumental feat for Meg, a step forward even. Too many times in the past she’d buried her feelings, refused to examine them, but standing there staring at her reflection, her knuckles white as she gripped the sink, Meg forced herself to stay with her feelings for a moment—to explore them. Those dark, liquid silk eyes had caressed her, the deep drawl of his voice had moved her, and Meg acknowledged how much she had wanted to take him up on his offer, and find out what exactly he had in store for her … to see him again!
‘No!’
She said the word out loud, pulled the window shut on the thoughts that were flittering in. He wanted her for how she looked—could look; he’d made that blatantly clear. Men like Luca were used to getting what they wanted, most women couldn’t resist their charms.
Only she wasn’t like most women.
‘You look fantastic!’ Jasmine thrust a glass of cheap wine into her hand as Meg stepped out from the bathroom. ‘I adore your top. Where did you get it?’
‘At a craft market in Queensland.’ Meg attempted girltalk, tried and wished to be as happy and carefree as Jasmine as they discussed her top; mind you, it was divine. The deepest azure, it scooped into a halter neck and from the front it looked elegant and simple, but it was rather more daring from behind, its low cut making the wearing of a bra impossible and instead revealing the vast expanse of her golden sun-kissed back and almost the entire column of her vertebra. The crushed silk fabric was caught at the bottom and ruched together in a glittering butterfly encrusted with glass beads and semiprecious stones. The moment Meg had set eyes on it she’d wanted it—one of the few impulse buys in her life.
‘Well, you look stunning,’ Jasmine affirmed with a slight hiccough as she forced down her wine. ‘Why on earth do you hide yourself away all the time?’
‘I don’t,’ Meg clipped, refusing to accept the compliment and certainly not answering the question. Instead, she took a sip of the drink and screwed up her face, wondering how Jasmine managed to drink it as if it were flavoured water. Her heart rate seemed to be topping a hundred and Meg knew that if they didn’t leave now, then she’d surely change her mind. ‘Come on, Jasmine—let’s hit the town!’
The casino was everything Meg had expected it would be and more. The white marble of the floors and walls in the vast foyer, where Jasmine and Meg stood getting their bearings, was no doubt a cool respite from the activity in the gaming rooms.
Despite the lateness of hour, it hummed with activity, elevators pinging regularly as winners and losers spilled out, heading to the bars and restaurants eager to spend their winnings or drown their sorrows, the sound of machines an ever-present backdrop. Jasmine and Meg wandered a while, peering into the designer shops, noses pressed against the windows like children at a toy shop.
‘He’s going to buy it for her!’ Jasmine breathed, watching as a rather ancient gentlemen leant heavily on his walking frame with one hand as his other retrieved a wallet, peeling off one of many credit cards and handing it to a pouting redhead who was young enough to be his grand-daughter. ‘He’s actually going to buy that diamond ring for her! Lucky, lucky thing!’
‘Lucky?’ Meg screwed up her nose in distaste, not sure who to feel sorry for—the woman who would later pay an extremely high price for her gift or the man who was being fleeced.
‘Let’s go in.’ Jasmine nudged Meg, pressing the intercom and waving at the assistant who gave a snooty frown as she looked over.
‘I somehow don’t think we’re the kind of clientele they’re looking for,’ Meg said, turning to go, but just as she did, surprisingly the assistant came over, gesturing to a security guard who opened the heavy glass door. Like a puppy chasing a ball, Jasmine leapt inside as Meg rather more hesitantly entered.
‘IS there anything in particular you are looking for?’ The assistant spoke fluent English and directed all of her questions at Meg. Embarrassed, Meg shook her head.
‘We’re just browsing—if that’s okay?’
‘Of course!’
But browsing in an exclusive jewellery shop in the Niroli casino was nothing like the high-street stores Meg usually frequented. In fact, it was like nowhere Meg had ever been in her life. Once inside, the rather snooty demeanour of the receptionist faded—slivers of bitter chocolate were offered and refused, but a glass of champagne thrust into her hand while looking was apparently non-negotiable—but Meg couldn’t relax and enjoy. Excruciatingly aware of the security cameras whirring and homing in, and more than aware she couldn’t afford as much as a keyring, all Meg wanted was out.
But Jasmine had other ideas. ‘Oh, would you look at these? Have you ever seen anything as beautiful?’
Never.
Peering into the glass display cabinet, even Meg, who was itching to escape, was momentarily transfixed; on simple black velvet hung a pendant and earrings and, even to a novice like Meg, their worth was clearly more than the entire shop put together.
‘They are very beautiful, yes?’
‘Stunning!’ Meg watched as her breath fogged up the glass, eyes widening as the assistant pulled out a key from her belt and opened the display cabinet.
‘Clearly you appreciate the finer things—these are pieces from some of the Niroli royal family’s collection. You can hold them for a moment—but that is all.’
‘We can actually hold them?’ Meg blinked.
‘The king tries to make things more …’ The assistant snapped her fingers as she attempted to locate the word she was looking for, and then settled for a longer version. ‘He tries to let his people closer to the family—these are not the best pieces, of course.’
And this wasn’t your average jeweller’s, Meg thought. They were locked in, cameras were everywhere, but even so holding such treasures even for a short while was a rare treat.
‘How much are they worth?’ Jasmine asked as the assistant placed the jewels in Meg’s hands, the cool of the perfect stones heavy in her heated palms, and Meg knew the answer before the assistant even spoke.
‘They are not for sale. We are honoured to have them for a short while.’
‘They must be insured for a figure,’ Jasmine rudely pushed as Meg handed the treasures back.
‘Their street value is not relevant,’ the assistant answered tartly. ‘These jewels stay within the royal family.’

‘Snooty madam!’ Jasmine declared once they were outside. ‘I wonder what they are worth …’
‘What does it matter?’ Meg asked. ‘I can’t believe we actually got to hold them—I wish I’d brought my camera.’
‘You probably wouldn’t have been allowed to use it,’ Jasmine pointed out. ‘Right, enough of window-shopping. I’m tired of looking at things I’ll never be able to afford!’
‘Let’s go and buy a drink,’ Meg suggested.
‘Let’s not!’ Jasmine laughed, steering a bemused Meg out of the shopping mall and through a gaming room towards a bar. Supremely self-conscious, Meg took a seat on a bar stool, pulling her skirt down over her thighs, then fiddling with her earrings, aware that they had been noticed. More than a few heads had turned as they’d walked into the room but, instead of boosting Meg’s confidence, it merely heightened her already nervous state, especially when Jasmine assuredly summoned the bartender and loudly ordered two glasses of their most expensive champagne.
‘We’re on a budget,’ Meg whimpered, aware that the slender glass the waiter was pouring the pale golden liquid into was undoubtedly worth her entire night’s spending money.
‘Relax, will you?’ Jasmine giggled, pulling a sequinned purse out of her evening bag, but before she’d even opened the zipper, before the drinks had even been put down on the placemats, the bartender halted her.
‘It has already been taken care of.’ He gestured to a nearby table, where four middle-aged businessmen sat, staring openly at them with knowing smiles.
‘Salute!’
‘Cheers!’ Jasmine held her glass up in acknowledgement to the nearby table, then winked at an appalled Meg. ‘Come on, drink up. There’ll be plenty more where that came from.’
‘At what price, though?’ Meg bit the words out—she could feel the colour mounting on her cheeks, torn between wanting to send the drinks back and not wanting to make a scene. ‘Jasmine, they’re going to want something….’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Meg! Will you loosen up? For God’s sake, they bought us a drink. Can’t you just say thank you? It’s just a bit of fun.’
Only it wasn’t.
As Meg had predicted, as soon as the glasses met their lips the men made their way over, sleazy chat-up lines were followed by sleazy chat-up lines, a bottle of champagne soon appeared, and all she wanted was to get the hell out, knowing the money that was being spent on them had nothing to do with their engaging conversation, nothing to do with a man wanting to get to know a woman. It had been a mistake to come—a horrible, horrible mistake.
‘They want us to play the tables!’ Jasmine said gleefully as Meg bit back a smart retort. ‘Come on!’
She was tired of pointing things out to Jasmine—tired of acting like a boring big sister when Jasmine clearly didn’t want to hear what she had to say.
‘I’m going to bed.’
‘Bed!’ Jasmine gave her a wide-eyed look. ‘It isn’t even midnight. Come on, Meg. It will be fun.’
‘It’s not my kind of fun,’ Meg answered. ‘Look, Jasmine, I’m tired and I don’t particularly like the company we’re keeping. If you want to stay on, then that’s up to you. Just be careful.’
‘Five minutes,’ Jasmine pleaded. ‘Then slip away—pretend you’re going to the loo or something.’
They were already at the gaming area, Jasmine’s eyes glittering from the champagne and attention as Meg attempted her excuses. There was nothing subtle now about the men’s advances—one of them offered her a chip to play the roulette table, which Meg refused, a prickle of fear running down her spine as Jasmine accepted. Things were really starting to get out of control.
‘Thirty, red.’ Jasmine kissed her chip and placed it on the table as Meg watched on. She’d never played roulette. Oh, she’d seen it on films, but she had no idea of the rules and absolutely no desire to find out, but her escort was insistent, pushing the chip into her hand.
‘No!’ Meg almost shouted the word and flung the beastly chip at him. She wanted nothing from him, nothing at all. And, boring or not, she was going to get Jasmine out of here and tell her she was flirting with danger. Once this beastly game was over, even if she had to frog-march her to the toilet, that was what she was going to do!
‘Your bet, please.’
As the businessman who had latched onto Meg pushed the chip back into her hand, Meg again shook her head, but table etiquette demanded she now play, and if Meg didn’t want to make a scene then she had no option but to place her bet. ‘Black seventeen,’ she said, plucking a number from midair and pulling out her purse, refusing to baulk when the croupier informed her of the minimum bet and handing over her entire night’s wages plus a touch more.
Meg barely watched as the wheel spun. Her eyes were seemingly on it, but her mind was elsewhere. Sensing the leering stares of her companions, feeling a hand lingering too long as it brushed her back, she wished this moment over, willed the ball to stop anywhere, for this awful night to end.
Tomorrow she was leaving…. The wheel was slowing down as her jumbled thoughts assimilated into some sort of order, her mind calming as she worked out a rudimentary plan: her job in the kitchen was over, when she didn’t show up in Luca’s office tomorrow she’d be out on her ear anyway, and tonight Jasmine had delivered the last straw. She was tired of Jasmine, tired of Niroli come to that—she’d had nothing but trouble and disappointment since she’d arrived. First thing tomorrow she’d head to back to the port, catch a boat to Mont Avellana perhaps. She’d heard there was seasonal work there…. Only the ball was moving now, rattling around the stilling wheel and even though the tension at the table was building, now she had a plan, for Meg it was abating….
Until the ball landed in its slot and all hell broke loose.
Black, seventeen!

CHAPTER FOUR
‘TABLE FOUR; move in closer!’
Luca’s order was swiftly obeyed, the security camera zooming in on the minor commotion in the general public gaming room, the winning figure being relayed to Dario, his Chief of Security, through an earpiece and passed on to Luca, who didn’t bat an eyelid. It was small pickings compared to the figures he dealt with on a daily and nightly basis and, more to the point, in a few hours the winnings would most probably be fed back into the casino. No, it wasn’t the money that intrigued Luca, it was the reaction of the women that held his attention now. One was jumping up and down, accepting champagne and kisses in all directions, and for a moment Luca thought the information he’d been given must be wrong—that surely she must be the winner—because the other woman stood apart, her stance almost disappointed at her sudden fortune.
‘Closer!’ Luca snapped his fingers impatiently, his eyes narrowing as he recognised one of them. The bold kitchen-hand that had approached him earlier this evening and asked to be considered for work out on the casino floor. He’d declined her instantly and if her behaviour now was anything to go by then he’d been right to do so. But who was the other woman?
Could it be her?
Shamelessly he ordered the camera to focus in on her, and his staff complied, more than used to Luca taking his rich pickings: zooming in on the prettiest girl in the room and observing her for a few moments before making his move. As if he were a lion stalking his prey, this was his domain and everyone present knew it.
It was her! Luca’s eyes narrowed as he focussed on her image. He’d been right with his first assessment—she didn’t belong in the kitchen scrubbing dishes—but neither did she belong down there being fawned and harassed, and now that she had won some money she was even more of a target. He knew how this place worked, knew that the euphoria after a win was a dangerous time, that those men would take full advantage … and it made him feel sick to the stomach.
‘Who are those guys with them?’ Luca asked his staff.
‘Some businessmen they picked up earlier. We’ve been watching them for the last hour or so—they’ve been buying the girls drinks and now they’re giving them money to play the tables—the usual.’
Which it was—this type of thing happened every hour of every day in the casino; Luca knew that more than anyone. So why, then, did he feel so disappointed? Why, then, did he feel as if he’d just been punched in the stomach?
‘She paid for her own bet, though,’ Dario added, listening to some information being relayed through a head piece, and, if it was seemingly a useless piece of information, it was relevant on two counts for Luca. On a professional level it made things easier for the security staff to deal with—her escort had no claim on her, there could be no pointless argument about whose money had aided the bet—but for far more personal reasons, for reasons he could barely fathom, somehow, to Luca it mattered. It mattered a lot.
‘The croupier just let us know—things are starting to get out of hand.’ Dario ground out the cigar he had been smoking and focussed more cameras on the area. ‘She’s trying to leave, but the men insist that she stay and celebrate with them—the croupier wants the floor security to come over.’
He could sense Meg’s nervousness. Those gorgeous eyes were darting, glancing around the room as if hoping to be rescued, flicking to the surveillance camera for a single second, holding his gaze without knowing it, seemingly asking him for help.
‘Do it.’ Luca snapped his fingers impatiently, watching on another screen as almost instantaneously the security guards made their way through the busy gaming room, the well-oiled machines of the casino moving into swift action—any potential situation swiftly dealt with before it escalated. Luca knew his hand-picked staff were more than capable of dealing with this, knew that in a matter of moments things would easily be brought discreetly under control and the small crowd dispersed, so why then was he pulling on his jacket, filled with something, a need almost to get out there and help her himself?
He snapped his fingers again—ordering his cheque-book and writing out a figure in his impressive violet scrawl, then stalking out of the room as his bodyguards followed without a word. They were more than used to Luca Fierezza’s routine when a pretty girl won: most of her winnings would be delivered personally by cheque, so that she couldn’t spend it, which got him straight to second base because it showed her he was looking out for her best interests—first base had already been passed courtesy of his stunning good looks—and for the final run, with the percentage of cash he handed her, he’d invite her to join him in the high-rollers club. Home run.
‘Congratulations!’
His voice was instantly recognisable—and Meg started in recognition as she heard it, her startled eyes swinging round to his, actually grateful for his presence. Since her number had come up the table had been a frenzy of activity, everyone around her eager to celebrate, pressing her to join in, to carry on and party into the night, when all she wanted to do was disappear, for the glare of the spotlight to dim from her—and now it had.
Luca was the only one who held the spotlight, the only man in the place who could instantly regain control by his mere presence, and regain control he did. Meg’s unwelcome companion actually melted away without even a murmur of protest as Luca ushered Meg over to a quiet table, pouring her a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully, before handing her her winnings.
‘Most of it is in a cheque—you can come tomorrow morning and cash it.’ He smiled at her frown. ‘People often blow their winnings, by tomorrow morning you will be more restrained.’
‘I’m more than in control now.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘In fact all I want to do is get the hell out of here. Is it always so.?’ She fumbled for a word for a moment and failed to come up with one, but Luca, even with his rather more limited disposal of the English language, found the one she was looking for, or at least one that came close.
‘Frenzied?’ he offered as Meg gave a nod. ‘Always. Especially when a …’ His voice trailed off as he realised somehow that she’d had an earful of shallow compliments tonight, that telling her she was beautiful was probably the last thing she wanted to hear right now. ‘Join me upstairs.’ He watched her eyes widen, and smiled. ‘I mean, there is a quieter gaming room upstairs—a little more civilized, perhaps.’ She knew where he meant—the high-rollers club. She’d seen it when she’d arrived, the elevator neatly roped off with security ensuring that only the richest and most beautiful went there, but it held little appeal for Meg.
‘I’m actually really tired, but thank you for the offer,’ Meg politely declined. ‘I think I’ll just go to bed.’
‘Meg!’ She hadn’t realised Jasmine was standing behind her, but her indignant wail alerted Meg, followed by a very harsh whisper in her ear. ‘You simply cannot turn down an invitation like that. Come on, please say yes—I don’t know how to get rid of these guys!’
The same guys she’s been accepting drinks and gambling chips from all night, Meg thought, but she felt herself relenting; as much as Jasmine had provoked things by accepting so much hospitality, she couldn’t just turn her back on her. Maybe a quiet escape to somewhere more civilised would give her a chance to talk to Jasmine and tell her how precarious her situation was with those guys, and surely one drink with Luca couldn’t hurt….
Who was she kidding?
The memory stick of her camera was full of photos of her travels, packed with exotic locations she’d wanted to capture for ever, but nothing came close to the man sitting opposite her at the table—whether she went for a drink or not, already his image was branded in her mind. As arrogant, as presumptuous as he’d been earlier, still she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling he evoked.
‘Can my friend Jasmine come?’ Meg watched as his eyebrows furrowed slightly, wondered at the thought process behind the tiny gesture.
Luca didn’t want her friend to come, didn’t want the brash woman to join them—strange, he’d actually thought till now they might be sisters. They were both blond, both fairly tall, only this Jasmine was like a crude caricature of Meg. She had none of her delicacy, none of her subtle beauty and her conduct certainly wasn’t befitting of the high-rollers club—yet Luca knew it was the only way he could get Meg to join him, that if he didn’t act quickly, at any moment she was going to terminate the evening, so, forcing a smile, he gave a small nod. ‘Of course!’
But, for once, Luca had misread a woman, because it wasn’t Jasmine forcing Meg to take Luca up on his invitation, it wasn’t some misguided sense of duty that had her standing up and heading towards the velvet rope that was pulled back as Luca approached.
It was something else propelling her tonight—something Meg usually chose to ignore. Whether it be hunger or emotion, it was something she usually stifled—only not tonight.
Feeling his hand on the small of her back as Luca guided her into the exclusive VIP lift, Meg acknowledged what she was feeling….
Want.
And this was a want she somehow couldn’t deny.
Some friend, Luca thought scornfully as within seconds of arriving Jasmine disappeared into the thick fog of smoke, her inbuilt radar homing in on the richest, loudest table, and, frankly, Luca was happy to see the back of her, more than happy to turn his attention to the rather aloof woman who sat before him.
‘Normally people smile when they win.’
‘I was actually hoping to lose.’ Meg gave a small laugh at his bemused frown. ‘I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself!’
‘You don’t like my casino?’
‘No,’ Meg admitted, but softened her rather brittle response with a smile. ‘Though don’t take it personally—I’m not really a big fan of clubs and bars, people shouting over each other just to be heard.’ Conversation here was surprisingly easy. After the noise from below, the exclusive upstairs area was quieter with no gaming machines. Luca had selected a secluded area for them at a low couch well away from the tables, but it wasn’t just the ambience that made talking easier—without his entourage, seated beside her, those brooding eyes and haughty features softened by the dim lighting, he was far less intimidating. In fact, after the pandemonium of before and the unwelcome company she’d been keeping, Luca Fierezza’s controlled demeanour was a refreshing change—only it wasn’t relaxing for Meg. Far from it!
The seedy attempts at chat-ups Meg had encountered downstairs had made her uncomfortable, ill at ease, but she didn’t feel like that with Luca. Unsettled was how he made her feel. Though he hadn’t lifted so much as a finger in her direction and his conversation had been supremely polite, there was definitely an awareness, a tension between them, and she knew he was biding his time, felt as if he was slowly, mentally circling her, waiting to make a move. She knew that it wasn’t by accident she’d ended up at this casino magnate’s table.
For the second time that night a bottle of champagne appeared without order, only this time Meg found it easier to decline. ‘I’d actually prefer some water.’
‘Of course—would you like something to eat? We can—’
‘I’m not hungry,’ Meg interrupted quickly, but as he sent the waiter away with a flick of his wrist and proceeded to pour them both water she rather regretted her haste. Not just because she was, in fact, hungry, but because part of her wanted to stay, to linger a while longer in his presence … to simply relax and enjoy the company of this astonishingly beautiful man. Even his hands were sexy, neatly manicured fingers, olive skin contrasting with the heavy white cotton cuffs of his shirt, but Meg’s forehead knitted in concentration as she glimpsed his gold cufflinks, trying to place where she’d seen the image before. Engraved on the heavy gold was the image of an orange tree surrounded by vines … She tried in vain to place them, giving in when Luca distracted her with a question.
‘Are you on holiday?’ Luca checked and Meg nodded.
‘I’m backpacking around Europe. I’ve been away from home for three months.’
‘And are you enjoying yourself?’
Meg hesitated a fraction too long before nodding, and Luca must have noticed the tiny pensive pause because he dismissed her enthusiastic response with an observation.
‘You don’t look like a backpacker.’
‘What do backpackers look like?’
‘Carefree,’ Luca mused, ‘out for fun—they certainly don’t normally decline the offer of a free drink.’
‘And you must know so many,’ Meg responded with a heavy dash of sarcasm. Luca Fierezza’s world was light years away from the one she’d inhabited these last months and she was annoyed at his assumptions—that she was some starving wretch who would jump at the chance of a free meal and an expensive drink.
He ignored her sarcasm. ‘We have many backpackers that come to Niroli—some to holiday and enjoy the magnificent beaches, others for casual work.’
‘It is a beautiful island,’ Meg admitted. ‘Well, from the little I’ve seen of it. I was looking forward to exploring it and …’ She didn’t continue, just snapped her mouth closed, realising she’d given him an opening, and Meg felt a stab of disappointment when instead of pouncing on it he instead asked a question. ‘So how long do you intend to stay in Niroli?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Meg admitted. ‘I actually came to Niroli to meet up with my brother, but there was a miscommunication. I was thinking of leaving to see if I can find work.’
‘You already have a job,’ Luca pointed out, for the first time acknowledging their encounter in the kitchen. ‘And tomorrow you will have a better one.’
‘Tomorrow I might decide to dye my hair.’ Meg didn’t bat an eyelid, stared coolly at him as she spoke. ‘Then I won’t be blond enough for you.’
‘I was trying to help….’ Luca attempted, but Meg shook her head at his attempt at an excuse.
‘Well, you didn’t,’ she bristled. ‘Tell me something—how come you didn’t ask me to join you for dinner back in the kitchen?’
‘I don’t understand?’
‘Oh, I think you do,’ Meg said shrewdly. ‘Anyway, it’s irrelevant. Tomorrow, I’m going to head to Mont Avellana and look for some seasonal work.’
‘Mont Avellana?’ Luca sneered. ‘Why would you possibly want to go there?’
‘I’ve heard it’s beautiful.’
‘It is nothing compared to Niroli,’ Luca derided in distaste. ‘Full of gypsy Viallis—there is nothing for you there!’
‘I’m sure they speak highly of you!’ Meg made a flip comment and instantly regretted it, watching as his face darkened.
Oh, she’d read about the battle between the islands—knew that Mont Avellana was now a republic and that there was still simmering resentment between the two islands—but the way Luca was talking told Meg that this was more than just patriotism. This was hatred born from the cradle and taken to the grave. ‘I’m sorry,’ Meg offered, unable to comprehend that it was so, so … personal to Luca, but realising she had hit a raw nerve. ‘I’ve clearly no idea what I’m talking about.’
It took a moment for him to translate her vague humour, but he accepted it with a gracious smile, swiftly changing the subject as only he could!
‘Anyway—you can’t go to Mont Avellana tomorrow—you are meeting with me.’
‘I said no, remember.’ Meg smiled, but it died on her lips as she caught his eyes. They weren’t touching, a generous few inches separated them on the sofa, but she could sense his body, feel the heat of him next to her. It wouldn’t have mattered where they were, whether in a busy kitchen or the luxurious surrounds of the high roller club, because again it was just the two of them—the subtle, almost indefinable process of man and woman gauging each other, that delicious heightened awareness when every move, every gesture, revealed itself in slow motion. As her tongue bobbed out to moisten her dry lips Meg knew, knew, he was imagining the taste of her, knew that in this volatile climate even that tiny gesture could be construed as provocative … because it had been. He provoked her, in the most unsettling of ways. He made her dizzy. It was as if she were riding on a carousel, snatching images as she whirred ever faster; images not just of the man sitting before her now, but dangerous glimpses of where this night could lead—that full, sensual mouth pressed onto hers, the feel of his hard, toned body pressed against hers. Never had a man moved her so—never had she felt such a compelling attraction to someone, never had she been more tempted to throw caution to the wind, to let some romance into her ordered life….
To loosen up and live a little.
Till he spoke!
‘I’m sure whatever job you want, it can be accommodated.’
Never had she been more grateful for the dimmed lighting as a dark, burning blush swept up her neck and over her cheeks, her mouth dry all of a sudden, her heart hammering in her chest, unsure if she’d misinterpreted and appalled if she hadn’t—was he offering her a job in his casino or in his bedroom?
‘I speak no Italian.’ Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Meg chose her words carefully. ‘I don’t really see what sort of work.’
‘It doesn’t have to be in the casino; perhaps you would like to spend your time in Niroli with me?’
‘With you!’ She let out a shocked gasp at his directness. ‘You’re offering me a job as your escort!’
‘Meg—’ immediately he shook his head ‘—I think you misunderstand. I am requesting your company for a period of time. I would like us to have a chance to get to know each other better. As you will understand, I’m sure, I am not permitted the luxury of casual dates—I am not able to suggest we meet tomorrow afternoon for coffee or a chat, or a wander on the beach—’
‘Because you’re too busy?’ Meg interrupted scornfully. ‘Too busy to deal with something as trivial as getting to know another person—oh, but if they look okay, if they can string a sentence or two together and are impressed enough by your status, then you’ll simply bypass the superfluous and cut straight to the chase.’
Her angry words didn’t faze him—anything but. A smile on his lips revealed very white, very even teeth. ‘I think you’re overreacting.’
‘Do you!’ Meg gave him a wide-eyed look—she really couldn’t believe the audacity of him. Yes, he was stunning to look at, and, yes, she conceded, they were attracted to each other, but to have the nerve to sit there and offer to buy her company for a few weeks made her blood boil—that he was so pompous, so full of his self-importance to think he was above the social niceties, infuriated her.
‘As I said, you misunderstand….’
‘I don’t think so.’ For the first time in a long time, instead of holding it in, Meg let it out—disappointment, embarrassment all aiding her in a very few choice words. ‘I’m surprised you offered dinner. Why don’t we just go straight upstairs to your luxury suite?’
‘Excuse me?’ For the first time she startled him—a flicker of confusion in his eyes as she confronted him.
‘Your luxury suite. I’m sure you’ve got one waiting—and given that you’re clearly too busy and important for something as trivial as romance or dating, and given that I’m too tired for a late night, why don’t we just go straight up there and get it over and done with?’
As his face darkened for a second Meg thought she’d gone too far—questioned the wisdom of speaking in such a manner to a man she barely knew, her feisty, sarcastic tones maybe open to misinterpretation, but as her words hit home his anger faded. The smile that had been on his lips before returned with vengeance now as he threw back his head and laughed out loud, until Meg actually managed a reluctant smile of her own.
‘You are always this angry?’
‘Only when I’m mistaken for a prostitute!’
‘Never!’ His thumb and finger found her chin, lifting her face so her eyes were level with his—touching her for the first time, the shock of contact with him tumbling her into confusion because despite her angry words before, despite the sarcasm that had laced them, she wanted him—wanted what she had moments before scorned.
Wanted him to make love to her.
‘Eat with me,’ Luca offered again and it was sheer self-preservation that made her shake her head, determined to politely end the conversation and just get the hell out before she did something stupid—something she would surely regret. She was here to sort her life, not complicate it further, and being a paid mistress to this man was surely a recipe for disaster!
‘No.’ Meg dragged the word out, jerked her chin away to break the contact as, reaching down, she picked up her bag and stood up. ‘As I said, I’m very tired. Thank you for your hospitality.’
‘You haven’t allowed me to show you any hospitality.’ He stood up as she did, clearly taken aback by her abrupt change of mood. ‘But that is your choice.’ He gave a brief shrug. ‘I will walk you back.’
‘I don’t need to be walked back,’ Meg declined, but Luca begged to differ.
‘Your friend appears to be busy and those men are no doubt still downstairs. It would be better if I walk you back to your room.’
If it had been anyone else offering it would have made sense. Meg had no desire to run into that group again, but neither did she want to walk with Luca. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—not for a minute did she imagine him forcing himself on her as that creepy businessman had before—but he had made his intentions exceptionally clear and so now must she.
‘Thank you for the offer, Mr Fierezza, I mean, Signor Fierezza, but I’d prefer—’
‘Luca,’ he interrupted.
‘I’d rather keep things formal,’ Meg said crisply back, but she couldn’t look at him, instead staring down at the ground, ready to turn on her heel and walk off.
‘Well, in that case, my correct title is: His Royal Highness Prince Luca of Niroli.’
As her startled eyes shot up to his, despite the twist of a smile on Luca’s lips at her reaction, she knew in an instant he was speaking the truth. Antoinette hadn’t got her words mixed up, those cufflinks he was wearing, Meg realised in a flash, were actually the Niroli coat of arms she’d seen in her guide book, but it wasn’t just that that convinced her, it was his sheer arrogance, the absolute confident way he carried himself—which told her he would never stoop to lying to impress a woman.
‘There will be no discussion. I will walk you back to your room.’ His hand touched her elbow and she practically shot into orbit at the contact, any argument fading on her lips as he guided her to the opening door.
‘Oh, and Meg …’ as the elevator glided open, as he declined the escort from his bodyguard, Luca managed to elicit a smile from her shocked lips ‘.you can call me Prince for short.’
As they walked through the casino, his hand still on her elbow, Meg’s mind was whirring. They made their way swiftly—he didn’t need to guide her through the throng of people because they all stepped back for him, heads turning, couples nudging each other as they passed, and Meg started to understand what he had been trying to tell her. A prince couldn’t date in the usual way, couldn’t walk into a bar unrecognised or linger over a coffee as he got to know a virtual stranger, and those thoughts were confirmed when finally they left the crowds behind and walked the long corridor to her room. ‘You didn’t know?’
‘No,’ Meg admitted. “Antoinette, the kitchen hand, did say something, but I thought she was.’ She gave a helpless shrug. ‘Shouldn’t you be locked away in a palace or something, with bodyguards protecting you?’
‘I should be according to my grandfather—the king,’ he added as Meg blew a breath skywards, the entire conversation so bizarre she couldn’t believe it was taking place. ‘But it is not how I choose to live; I like to work—to run my businesses. Here I get a shot of a normal life.’
‘Normal!’ Meg gave a wry grin. ‘Even before I heard your title, Luca, you didn’t fit into that description.’
‘I have a comfortable life—but I work hard for it. Yes, I can afford many things, and maybe I could just live off my title, but I still take pride in my work, my business ventures—that is why I mainly choose not to use my title, why here I prefer to be called just Luca, though naturally most people know who I am.’
They were at her door now and Meg wished they weren’t, wished somehow she were staying in some remote cottage at the end of a very long beach, instead of a shared room a mere ten minutes away.
She didn’t want the night to end—even though she’d terminated it, now she wanted to prolong it and it had nothing to do with his royal title, more the fascinating man behind it, the man she was starting to glimpse.
‘Thank you,’ Meg said simply.
‘For what?’
‘For coming over when you did. Things could have got out of hand otherwise.’
‘You have to be careful, Meg. Your friend is not much of an escort for you.’
‘I don’t need an escort,’ Meg answered stoutly, but Luca remained unmoved, shaking his head at her proud words.
‘Tonight things could have been very different—I see a lot of things that go on. Buy your own drinks, Meg, and hold onto your glass. Don’t let it out of your sight.’
‘You sound like my father.’ Meg rolled her eyes as she chatted. ‘When I say my father, I mean my adopted father. I had all the lectures before I set off on my trip—’
Her voice halted abruptly; she was stunned at her own words, at how easily she’d revealed a piece of herself to Luca. She’d been with Jasmine for weeks yet she had never revealed this, yet here she was, an hour into Luca’s company, and she was opening up like a flower in the sun with him. But Luca didn’t seem to notice the revelation, just carried on the conversation where she had so hastily left it.
‘I would not like to be your father.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I am sure the man must never rest, worrying about his beautiful daughter.’ He’d called her beautiful and instead of flinching or refusing to take the compliment she absorbed it, even felt a little bit beautiful. Luca stared thoughtfully back at her. ‘You’re not going to come tomorrow?’ When she shook her head he pushed for a reason. ‘Can I ask why?’
She paused for a moment before answering, wondered how on earth she could explain that, though she wanted to, though she was more attracted to him than she’d ever been to anyone, it was just too dangerous, too damned scary to let him into her life. ‘I don’t want to complicate my life; the reason I’m travelling is that I’m actually trying to sort a few things out….’ Meg answered as honestly as she could without telling him her painful truth. ‘And, somehow, I don’t think spending time with you is going to help me achieve that.’
‘It might.’
‘I doubt it.’ Meg gave a rueful smile. How could a holiday romance with a royal prince possibly help her find the peace she craved? But never had she been more tempted to relent, the rigid self-discipline she usually lived by treacherously displaced by his presence. ‘It’s been nice meeting you, Luca.’
‘May I kiss you goodbye?’
She’d been about to shake her head, to refuse his request for a kiss goodnight, but his choice of words had her hesitating. It really was goodbye.
A chance encounter that would never in her life be repeated—men like Luca didn’t come around twice in a lifetime—and Meg bit down on her lip, torn between fear and want, sensing the danger yet lusciously curious.
‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ Meg breathed, her hormones weeping in protest as she denied them the goodies that were clearly on offer as her mind scrambled to regain control. ‘Anyway, I thought it was supposed to be the other way around.’ He was watching her mouth as she spoke, as she attempted a joke, attempted to delay the inevitable. ‘We’re supposed to kiss and then you turn into a prince!’
‘For you, maybe there is better.’ His hand was on her cheek, his thumb playing with her lower lip. ‘You deserve better,’ Luca elaborated. ‘Maybe your kiss would make me a king.’
She didn’t know if he was joking, didn’t know if it was just a light-hearted response, and frankly she didn’t care—Luca was as skilled at flirting as he was at manipulating. His mouth was just inches away, teasing her with his breath as he spoke, honing in on her distraction, asking for something only moments ago she wouldn’t have considered.
‘Don’t go to Mont Avellana tomorrow—spend the day with me instead.’
Breathless, dizzy and deliciously disorientated, she struggled with what now seemed a straightforward question, her mind trying to recall the reasons she should decline.
‘The day?’
‘I’ll show you Niroli—and maybe then you’ll decide to stay on for a while, maybe you can find the peace you crave here.’
She opened her mouth to protest, to remind him why she couldn’t stay, but with a few words Luca had made the impossible suddenly feasible. Taking a strand of hair, he brushed it behind her ear, all the while staring into her eyes. ‘We are two very different people but with one constant.’ He didn’t need to elaborate, their arousal, their attraction achingly evident, but Luca broke the contact, stepped back into the hallway and asked her a very pertinent question. ‘Did refusing my kiss give you peace?’
She didn’t say anything but Meg’s answer was obvious, her whole body screaming a protest at Luca’s rapid withdrawal.
‘I will be in the foyer tomorrow at nine.’
He walked away then—Luca’s bid clearly in, leaving it for Meg to decide. He didn’t even offer a backward glance as he walked back along the corridor, leaving Meg jumbled and confused, fumbling in her bag for her keys, then entering her room and sitting on the bed, somehow trying to make sense of all that had occurred.
They couldn’t last.
That much Meg understood.
But they couldn’t end yet either, Meg realised; the attraction was too strong, the emotion too intense to just walk away.
Pulling out her purse, Meg slid her fingers into the wallet and pulled out a well-worn picture, one she hadn’t looked at in weeks, but occasionally, at times like this, when decisions needed to be made, it was called upon. Even though she’d seen it a thousand times, even though she’d lived it, still the image shocked her.
Pained eyes in a gaunt face stared back at Meg, her skeletal frame engulfed by a wheelchair, a nurse at her side holding her hand as she struggled to come up from her lowest point.
There were a million reasons to set her alarm for six and get the hell out of Niroli, to organise her backpack and literally run for the hills.
But there was one very good reason to stay. Falling asleep with the photo still in her hand, Meg was only vaguely aware of Jasmine bumping around in the night, her mind focussed on one thought only.
Tonight, for the first time in her life, and only with Luca, she’d actually felt beautiful.

CHAPTER FIVE
‘I’M GLAD YOU decided to stay.’
As Luca joined her in the crowded foyer, Meg was glad she’d decided to stay too. The hour between waking and seeing him had plagued Meg with doubt and indecision. She was almost sure that her vision of the man she had met last night wouldn’t stand up to the scrutiny of the morning glare, that somehow seeing him again could only taint the delicious memory.
Wrong.
If anything, Luca was more stunning.
Dressed casually in dark denim jeans and a black T-shirt, unshaven and unkempt, he looked even more ravishing, but there was no time for awkward small talk, no time for anything at all really, as Luca took her by her arm and shepherded her out the foyer and straight into the luxurious confines of a sleek silver sports car.
‘I thought today was supposed to be relaxing!’ Meg attempted as the car sped away from the casino.
‘Now, it will be,’ Luca said cryptically, glancing in the rear-view mirror and finally slowing down. ‘I’ll ring Luigi now and tell him I haven’t been kidnapped.’
‘Your bodyguard?’ Meg checked as Luca nodded and punched in speed-dial. Even if her Italian was extremely limited, it soon became clear that Luigi was less than impressed at his boss’s hasty exit.
‘Sorry about that.’ Luca grinned when the call ended. ‘Luigi is supposed to accompany me whenever I go outside the casino or palace. I do not like it.’
‘I wouldn’t either.’ Meg smiled, glancing shyly over to him. ‘I’m glad it’s just us.’
‘Me too.’ Luca nodded. ‘You look wonderful!’
‘Er, I doubt it.’ Meg grimaced. Never had her backpack’s offerings appeared more measly. She’d been hoping to spend yesterday getting acquainted with a washing machine, but for the biggest date of her life she’d been left with no choice other than faded denim shorts and a pale lemon halter-neck. Still, given it was Luca, she’d bypassed her runners for some gorgeous leather sandals she’d purchased in Rome, and instead of scraping her hair back into its usual sightseeing fare of a pony-tail had blow-dried it and left it down. ‘I wasn’t exactly inundated with choice.’
‘Inundated?’ Luca checked.
‘Spoilt …’ Meg attempted to no avail. ‘I don’t have many clothes to choose from—I’ve tried to pack something for most eventualities, but a day trip with royalty wasn’t something I’d planned on!’
‘We may not get into the restaurant I wanted to go to for lunch—I don’t think they allow shorts.’ Luca shrugged ‘.but that’s no problem.’
‘Sorry.’ Meg flinched.
‘I tease you.’ Luca laughed. ‘There are some perks to being a prince—you could be wearing nothing more than a bikini and we would get the best table. I meant what I said—you look wonderful.’
She did.
Luca, too, had been wondering what to expect this morning. So many times before the raw beauty he’d witnessed in a woman had disappeared the second she’d found out who he was—commandeering the salon, spending up in the boutique. He’d almost resigned himself to greeting a stranger this morning, yet here she was, more beautiful, more vibrant, more sexy than the woman he had met last night—acres of soft, browned skin on show, her hair a blond fragrant cloud, and just a slick of gloss on those incredibly kissable lips….
‘Where are we going?’
‘Does it matter?’
Turning his attention from the road for a second, he held her gaze and Meg bit down on her lip, processing his question for a moment before answering, her single-word answer the boldest thing she’d ever said.
‘No.’
In fact, if they never set foot out of the car, Meg wouldn’t have minded. Dressed more casually, and well away from the extravagance and decadence of the casino, Luca was infinitely more relaxed, his company engaging. But Luca actually did have plans for the day. He wanted to show her all that Niroli had to offer and show her he did, gliding the sleek car through the steep hills, at every turn the view even more stunning.
‘No more!’ Luca grinned when Meg begged him to stop for yet another photo shoot. ‘Or you will run out of space—wait till we get to the ruins. We stop now at one of the wineries and I’ll ask them to make us a picnic.’
Which, when it was Luca Fierezza asking, meant that a blanket was included, the hamper groaning under the weight of Niroli delicacies, and Meg wanted to taste them all, only not just yet—first they spent a sun-drenched day exploring. Luca steered them well away from the usual tourist haunts in the south of the island and instead headed north where he showed her the ancient Roman ruins, regaling her with tale after tale, making her privy to information that could never be gleaned from a history book. But as excellent a tourist guide as he made, as much as he seemed to enjoy showing her Niroli, the day was about them—the sultry air thicker somehow when blended with desire, awareness thrumming as they explored, not just the temple and amphitheatre, but each other’s minds. And by the time Luca spread out the blanket and they shared their picnic, Meg knew a single day could never be enough to scratch the surface of all it had to offer—only she wasn’t thinking about Niroli!
‘Here,’ Luca said proudly, pouring her an icy glass of champagne as she gazed around the amphitheatre. ‘There are often concerts held here—there will be one this weekend….’
‘For the Feast?’
‘You have heard about it?’
‘One of the shopkeepers told me.’ Meg gave an abstracted nod, biting into slivers of bitter orange dipped in dark chocolate and closing her eyes as she relished the taste. ‘This,’ she declared, ‘is the nicest thing I’ve ever tasted.’
‘You said that about the olive dip, and then the cannoli. It is good to see someone who likes their food.’ Luca frowned at her reaction. ‘Why does that make you laugh?’
‘It just does.’ Meg’s answer was evasive, a first date not really the best time to slip in the little gem of the eating disorder that had ruled her for years, but, closing her eyes, Meg lay back and smiled as the warm sun bathed her, relishing the moment, his casual observation a revelation. Here, away from it all, for the first time in the longest time, she’d actually forgotten her problem, had just enjoyed food as it should be enjoyed. Oh, she was long past the frantic calorie counts, way, way past controlling every morsel she consumed, but to simply enjoy … Luca could never have even hazarded a guess as to how much this moment meant to her.
‘You are having a good time?’Luca enquired, lying down on the blanket beside her, his body just inches away, so achingly close all Meg wanted to do was reach over and touch him. She could feel the hum of sexual energy between them, his masculinity bathing her now, only with more ferocity than the sun, her skin tingling as even with her eyes still closed she could feel him watching her.
‘It’s been great.’
‘It has …’ Luca let out a long sigh, his body so close she could feel his chest move beside her. ‘It is nice to relax.’
‘I don’t suppose you get much chance,’ Meg offered. ‘What with work and …’ She gave a tiny frown, peeped her eyes open to look at him. ‘Do you have to do all the ceremonial, well … stuff?’ She gave a helpless shrug but thankfully Luca understood.
‘Always there are commitments. Take this weekend—there will be many events I have to attend as a royal prince.’
‘You don’t sound as if you want to?’
‘It is not about want, it is about duty,’ Luca explained. ‘It is what is expected of me—and lately.’ He didn’t finish, just shook his head, but Meg’s curiosity was piqued now.
‘Lately?’ she pushed.
‘You ask too many questions. It is not correct.’
‘Excuse me?’ Meg’s eyes were wide open now as Luca attempted to put her in her place.
‘You should not pry so much. I will tell you what you need to know.’
‘I don’t need to know anything.’ Meg gave a shocked laugh. ‘I was asking because I wanted to know. And don’t pull rank on me when it suits!’
‘It is not about pulling rank—when you are out with royalty—’
‘But I’m not,’ Meg broke in, disarming his rather terse response with a smile. ‘I’m out with Luca—remember? That was the reason you left Luigi behind, that was the whole point of today—to get to know each other a bit better away from it all.’
‘Are you always this argumentative?’
‘Always.’ Meg smiled as Luca’s face blackened. ‘Now, if there’s something you’d prefer not to discuss, then you just have to say so, but, please, don’t hide behind your title!’
Closing her eyes, she lay her head back down and even though her heart was hammering in her chest at the small confrontation, she certainly wasn’t about to let him know that. If Luca thought he could talk to her like that, then he’d better do a quick rethink! And, Meg decided, if he didn’t break the angry silence, then she certainly wouldn’t—she’d start snoring if she had to!
‘When I was younger I.’ as Luca conceded, as he struggled to find the right word, Meg felt her heart soar as she opened her eyes and looked over to him ‘.was a little wild.’
‘A little?’ Meg checked.
‘A lot,’ Luca admitted. ‘Always I was in trouble. Now I stay out of trouble, but the king has a long memory and so do the people of Niroli. He spoke to me recently—told me I have to.’ He gave a frustrated shrug. ‘Now, I prefer not to discuss family business.’
‘Fine.’ Meg smiled. ‘That’s all you had to say.’
‘So, now it is my turn—why did you come?’
‘Because you asked me to.’
‘Not here.’ Luca shook his head. ‘Why did you choose to travel? You said you were here to sort things out. Can I ask what?’
And maybe this was one first date where she could reveal, because, in that second, it didn’t feel as if they’d only just met. Her eyes were looking straight into his, the sun blocked out by his presence, it didn’t feel as if there were a million barriers between them—it felt as if they were one, as if she were looking at a man she’d always known, just hadn’t really met yet.
‘What?’ Luca pushed, just a touch too soon, the brave leap she was about to take thwarted by impatience, and Meg recoiled back into herself, shaking her head as if to clear it, stunned at how close she had come to letting him in—letting anyone in.
‘I’d prefer not to say.’
‘You confuse me, Meg. One minute you are so strong, so sure, yet the next …’ He gave a helpless shrug. ‘You are very complicated, yes?’
‘Yes.’
It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, perhaps a small admission, a revelation, but when there was none forthcoming Luca, surprisingly, graciously conceded. ‘Perhaps we need to get to know each other even better,’ Luca suggested. ‘Maybe one day isn’t enough for us?’
‘Maybe,’ Meg gulped.
‘So …’ his voice was slow and measured, cautious this time as he approached ‘… will you stay a little longer? More than just this day?’ His face was moving in closer as she toyed with her answer, but he didn’t wait to hear it. ‘Maybe this will help you decide.’
She’d been so sure he was about to kiss her, so absolutely sure, it was all she could think about, so when his hand lightly dusted her stomach, when his warm fingers brushed the gap between her shorts and top, her body tightened in delicious confusion. Meg could almost hear the reverse sirens sounding in her brain as it instructed her neural pathways to move their guard, that she was being attacked from a different angle, but even as her stomach tightened in reflex Luca changed tack, his mouth moving in, and Meg closed her eyes as his hand snaked around the back of her head. He moved a fraction closer, his breath warm on her cheekbone, making her wait, her lips twitching in nervous expectation, anticipating the feel of his mouth on hers, her breath held in her lungs as so slowly he moved in, but nothing in her imagination could ever rival the true feel of him, the heat of his mouth when it met hers. Like a reflex action her lips parted, his kiss as direct as his approach to her had been, his tongue sliding in offering a simultaneous taste of champagne and power.
Such power, his kiss utterly potent, making mockery of any past efforts, turning the few men she had dated into mere boys as his skilled mouth searched hers and his arms wrapped fiercely around her body. For ever he kissed her, drenching her with his passion, banishing reticence, pressing himself so hard against her it was as if they were one person, his lips first paying her mouth the most thorough of attention, then blazing a trail down her neck, kissing her exposed shoulder deeply, his tongue moving up to the base of her neck and then back again. It was to die for, so erotic, so, so shatteringly sexy Meg had to remind herself to breathe.
As Luca’s hand cupped her bottom he pressed her heated groin into him, his erection wedged against her. It was Meg kissing him now, hungry lips meeting his scented neck, tasting Luca’s warm flesh as her fingers knotted in his hair—the salt of his skin on her tongue, his cologne filling her nostrils as his other hand moved to the front, the pad of his thumb plying her swollen nipple through her top. With each measured move he spun her ever faster, whirring her mind, her body, into one giddy blur—his hands touching her where her body needed it, before Meg even knew it herself. How easy it would be to just let go, to give in and follow to where he was taking her, to let this vortex consume her, but so ingrained was her control, so fearful was she of losing it, that with supreme effort Meg pulled back, the ground coming up to meet her as she jumped off at the last moment, staring at him with stunned, fearful eyes as the world carried on spinning.
‘We can’t!’ The words she gasped out were more directed at herself than Luca; she was stunned at what had just taken place, at her body’s perilous response to him, but Luca’s reply just confused her further.
‘We won’t,’ he murmured, moving in, kissing her again, only more tenderly now. ‘We wouldn’t,’ he said between breathless mouthfuls. ‘Not here … not somewhere so public. Now, we just kiss.’
Just kiss!
His comfort offered no solace. If, for Luca, that was just a kiss, then what would it be like to be made love to by him, if that was what he could do to her with his mouth …? Meg’s mind begged quiet, needed him to stop, her ingrained restraint so violently compromised it actually scared her.
‘Please, Luca …’
Something in her voice reached him, his mouth stilling, those black eyes surprisingly tender as he stared down at her. ‘I have upset you?’
‘No …’ She was biting down on her lip in an effort to stop crying, every emotion she’d ever suppressed clamouring for freedom as somehow Luca unleashed her. ‘It’s just too soon …’ Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding, for Luca to realise that it wasn’t sex she was talking about here. ‘It’s too soon to be feeling like this!’
‘Then stay,’ Luca said simply, holding her in his arms, only more tenderly now, letting her catch her breath as everything calmed down. As the world came back into focus, almost the same as when she’d left it … only somehow different now.
‘Now, I’ll take you to the beach.’ After a few moments in Luca’s arms, when still Meg hadn’t responded to his suggestion, Luca decided on a change of scene and Meg was surprised how relieved she felt that their date wasn’t over yet. But, as nice as he could be when he remembered, as engaging and charming as he was without even trying, every now and then Meg was reminded of his station in life—Luca Fierezza was so thoroughly spoiled, so impossibly arrogant at times, sometimes Meg honestly thought he was joking. He wasn’t!
‘Niroli has the most beautiful beaches,’ Luca elaborated, offering his hand to help her up. ‘I don’t have my bathers with me.’
‘Bathers?’
‘A swimming costume,’ Meg attempted, but Luca screwed up his nose at the Australianism.
‘They are horrible words—I like women to wear bikinis! Come,’ he said impatiently as Meg started to clear up the picnic. ‘Just leave it.’
‘You can’t just leave it! What about the blanket, the basket.?’ Meg insisted, but Luca had other ideas, striding off towards the car and clearly expecting her to follow.
‘If they want it, then they can come and find it!’
‘What’s wrong?’As Meg climbed into the car, almost immediately she realised something was up, Luca frowning into the phone as he checked his messages.
‘I’m not sure,’ was Luca’s distracted reply, his face rigid as he replayed his voicemail message, before finally he turned around and faced her. ‘I have to go back to the casino. It would appear I am needed.’
‘That’s fine.’ So riddled with doubt was Meg, she was sure he was making it up, sure that her little exposé before must have put him off, but, forcing a smile, she tried not to let her disappointment show as they drove towards the casino in silence. When he didn’t elaborate further, didn’t suggest that they meet up later, Meg could sit on her hands no longer.
‘Luca.’ Taking a deep breath, Meg decided to bite the bullet, almost managed to convince herself that she was imagining the sudden tension between them. It was only since the phone call the mood had changed—maybe he was worried about work. ‘Tomorrow, why don’t we—?’
‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’ Luca snapped out his response, lifted his hand from the steering wheel and flicked away her attempt. For Meg it was like being slapped, her face burning as he declined her brave offer, her voice when it came again as tense and as strained as the expression he was wearing.
‘Would you be able to drop me off at one of the beaches …?’ She didn’t even get to finish, Luca flicking on the indicator and pulling over before the sentence was even over, and for Meg it was the final straw, everything that had been before evaporated into thin air as she opened the passenger door and stepped out, the atmosphere so suddenly vile, she didn’t even bother to say goodbye….
And neither did Luca.

CHAPTER SIX
‘YOU’RE SURE?’ A muscle was pounding in Luca’s cheek as Dario fiddled with buttons and the grainy CCTV footage came up on the screen.
‘Here we see the girls looking at the jewellery, now she is handling it—the staff kept a close eye on them, of course.’ Luca didn’t say anything, his black eyes narrowing, watching as Meg held the earrings in her hand, then handed them to her friend, who held them up to her a moment before handing them back to the assistant. ‘Here, four hours later, the footage isn’t as good—the main camera was on the front desk—but you see she came back with the man she had been drinking with in the gaming room and asked to see the jewels again. This is when the man she was with suddenly collapsed.’
Luca snarled. ‘It was a distraction technique; a ruse to keep the main camera on the front desk and distract the staff.’
‘No.’ Dario shook his head, extremely experienced in all aspects of casino security; he was one of the few people who could disagree with Luca and get away with it. ‘I also thought it might be a distraction technique, but I have checked with the hospital—he is in the coronary care unit after suffering a major heart attack.’ The security chief’s words were delivered in rapid Italian, but his voice was nonchalant—theft was a common occurrence in the casino, but with the security so tight it was quickly and easily dealt with. ‘Here you see her more clearly now. I don’t think she planned it, just saw the opportunity and got greedy.’
Even though he’d been told the facts, even though Dario rarely made a mistake, still he hoped it would be Jasmine that would appear on screen, that somehow Dario had mixed up the two women, but despite the grainy footage, even if Meg’s face never fully came into view, there was no mistaking the unique, stunning top she had worn last night. Luca sucked in a deep breath, his teeth gritting together. What the hell did she have to go and do that for? He’d have given her anything she wanted, anything at all. Hell, he’d been so smitten, if she’d wanted some damn jewellery he’d have bought it for her without batting an eye, and now here she was, a woman he’d actually thought different, a woman he’d respected, showing her true colours—stealing his own family jewels.
It made him sick—sick to the stomach, yet he was also filled with a strange, hollow sadness, not just for what he had lost, but because he knew what he had to do. There was a strict one-strike policy at the casino, with no exceptions—even if he had thought for a short while that this Meg was one.
‘You’ve spoken to the friend?’
‘When we searched the room. Apparently Miss Donovan was in and out last night.’ Dario gave a shrug. ‘The jewels were wrapped up in the top Miss Donovan was wearing and had been stuffed in the backpack—we’ve got all the evidence we need to call the police.’
Luca stared at the frozen image on the screen, trying to relate the deceitful, shady character to the woman he thought he had glimpsed, the woman he had held in his arms and kissed, the proud, dignified woman he had wanted to get to know.
The woman who had duped him.
‘Do it, then.’ Luca stared one more time at the image frozen on the screen, then gave a terse nod as, on his command, Dario picked up the telephone. ‘Tell the police you will let them know when she returns to the casino.’ It was said entirely without feeling, his orders exactly as they would be for any other common thief who attempted to get one over on Luca Fierezza, but if Dario had looked up as Luca stalked towards the door he might have noticed the rigid shoulders and bunched fists as his boss made to leave the room. He did look up, though, as Luca turned and gave one unusual final instruction. ‘Page me when she arrives—this I want to see.’
Luca was used to burying himself in work, the casino just one of his many business ventures, each one demanding scrupulous attention to detail, ruthlessness and resolute indifference, so why couldn’t he concentrate? Why was it that, over and over, he kept staring at his phone, checking his pager?
‘ConcentrarsV. He snapped the order to himself, answered a red-flagged email, and with a few strokes of the keyboard gave the order to fire one of his CEOs in the UK as well as ordering an internal audit on one of his growing business ventures on the Gold Coast in Australia….
Where Meg was from….
What was it with her? Dio! She wasn’t the first woman he’d met who’d shown her true colours and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d had to have someone arrested, so why, no matter how hard he tried not to think about her, did every road, every thought he had lead to Meg?
Burying his head in his hands, Luca sucked in air and, closing his eyes, he gave into a rare moment of introspection.
She wasn’t the problem, Luca decided; it was the rather confronting talk he’d had with his grandfather, King Giorgio, just a few days before that was making her attractive—making this thief who came in the night the ultimate forbidden fruit.
“Stay out of trouble, Luca.’ The king’s voice, though weak from his declining health, hadn’t wavered as he’d delivered his order for Luca to keep his nose clean—to stand up and face the fact that he was a potential heir to the Niroli throne.
And though he’d been born a prince, though technically the chance he might one day rule Niroli had been explained to him as he’d grown up, deep down it had never really seemed plausible. Two years ago he’d been way down in line to the throne—the king had had, as the saying went, an heir and a spare: his first-born son, Antonio, and then Luca’s father, Paulo, and any possibility of one day ruling Niroli had seemed far away in the distance.
Then the accident had happened.
Two years ago the royal house of Niroli had been thrown into turmoil when a boating accident had claimed the life of the immediate heirs. Antonio and his wife Francesca, along with Luca’s father, Paulo, had been tragically killed. While any family would have struggled to come to terms with such loss, for a royal family it threw up more issues, which, with each passing day, were becoming more pressing.
Since the accident, King Giorgio’s health had deteriorated rapidly—a proud man, he did not want to rule from his sickbed and was determined to provide his people with a fitting heir before his abdication. The people of Niroli had mourned along with the royal family, had suffered with them through the bad times, and now it was time to pave way for the new. Summoning the family members from around the globe, the king had informed them of his plans to find Niroli’s new ruler from amongst them—one in keeping with The Rules, a strict set of orders that the ruler must live by.
Raking his hands through his jet-black hair, Luca tried and failed to imagine himself as King.
He loved his country.
He’d die for his county—and that wasn’t an idle statement: the neighbouring island of Mont Avellana had once been under Niroli’s rule, but after a bitter battle, control had been lost and it had become a republic. Even today, there was still rivalry and resentment. Unlike the extinct volcanoes that existed on Niroli, there were grumblings of discord that could spill over at any given time—and Luca knew, without a flicker of doubt, he’d be in the front line if he was called.
Yes, Luca sighed, he’d die for his country, but could he live for it?
Live only for it?
‘No more scandal, Luca.’ The king had waved a thin, gnarled finger at him—that one gesture, that short sentence, summing up a colourful life. Luca’s teenage years had been mired in petty crime and scandal not befitting a royal prince; it was a life the tabloids had gleefully dissected over the years and like vultures still they wanted more scandal—scandal that somehow Luca had always provided. ‘Niroli has given you a good life—fast cars, beautiful women—and over and over our beloved people have forgiven your mistakes, always loved you, so now it is time for you to pay your debt, to put that life behind you once and for all. Now is the time for you to maybe become more than a man—you are in the running to be King. So, think of settling down, winding down your business interests and keeping more suitable company. You owe it not just to me, but to our people, to stay out of trouble, Luca, to give them something back, something they can enjoy—a wedding, perhaps!’
‘You’re telling me to marry?’ Luca couldn’t believe what he was hearing—couldn’t believe what was being asked of him—but the king had stood his ground.
‘I’m telling you that your reckless days are over—that a suitable bride might prove a better escort than some of the women you choose to date. The people of Niroli need to see that you have grown up and a good wife would be a fitting gesture.’ As Luca had opened his mouth to put his point the king overrode him, his frail voice gaining momentum, reminding Luca, even if he didn’t need it, that this wasn’t a grandfatherly chat—Giorgio was, for now, still King! ‘I am not asking you, Luca, I am ordering you. I do not want to open a newspaper again and see a slur with your name attached to it. Those days are gone—for ever!’
Staring blindly out at his luxurious office, the king’s words still buzzing in his ears, Luca felt the prison gates slowly closing behind him. He glimpsed afuture he couldn’t fathom: his business interests slowly wound down to accommodate a more royal schedule; performing his duties with a beautiful nameless face on his arm. A privileged lifestyle many would hanker for, but for Luca it felt as if he were about to be delivered a life sentence.
‘You were born for this,’ Luca said sharply to himself, heaving aside his doubts, forcing himself out of his introspection and facing facts. He couldn’t help Meg—even if he wanted to, his hands were tied. It wasn’t just the king who had spoken, but history itself! As if the first of The Rules of the Royal House of Niroli had been decreed with him in mind:
The ruler of Niroli must be a moral leader for the people and is bound to keep order in the Royal House. Any act that brings the monarchy into disrepute through immoral conduct or criminal activity will rule a contender out of the succession to the throne.
There were ten rules the leader of Niroli must abide by, but this was the first—and this was the one that Luca had failed on many occasions. His playboy reputation was legendary on the island, and back when he was a teenager he’d had a few run-ins with the police himself, arrested for petty theft and several other misdemeanours. And though charges had never been laid, and technically there was no criminal record—the people of Niroli’s memories were long. As the king had pointed out, Niroli had been more than good to him and now they needed a leader.
Now it was Luca’s time to abide by the rules.
Meg was on her own.
So why, instead of turning off his pager and getting back to work, did he jump when it bleeped? Why, when he was informed by Dario that Meg was approaching the casino, did he head down towards the entrance?
Why did this woman still move him so?
‘Signorina Donovan?’
So deep in her own thoughts was Meg as she wandered back from the beach that the police cars screeching alongside, lights and sirens blazing, at first jolted rather than alarmed her. She was sure there must have been an accident, an incident taking place perhaps, certainly something that didn’t concern her—until they said her name….
‘Alex?’ It was her first thought. The most reliable, trustworthy man she knew hadn’t turned up yesterday and now the police were calling her by name. Meg’s heart lurched with all the fear of the innocent—something terrible must have happened to Alex. ‘Is he okay?’
But her question was never answered, instead she was shoved against a wall, her head hitting the rough stone. Pain coursed through her. Merciless hands ruthlessly searched her, groping her, pressing against her shorts, shamelessly lingering a little too long over her flimsy top, and Meg felt her fear, her panic, subside into revulsion.into dread.
‘Get off!’ Pale lips attempted to get the words out, blood was trickling down from her head. ‘Get your hands off me.’ But it was like being trapped in a nightmare, her mouth forming the words, her brain screaming them, only no sound was coming out, like some horror movie on mute. She could feel inappropriate hands still groping her, still touching her, still violating her as people gathered and watched. She could smell the stale breath of the police officer as the crowd called out insults in Italian.
‘Don’t!’ It was all she could manage, the one word that did come out, her slender hand clasping the fat, podgy fingers as they slid up her thigh, her lips snarling in disgust, distaste as she saw his leer, the beads of sweat on his upper lip. Meg decided she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her fear, wouldn’t give the gathering crowd the show they so clearly desired by fighting with this brute. Instead she stopped struggling, just leant against the wall with her eyes closed till it was over, till she felt the cool of the handcuffs as they were snapped on her wrists and she was unceremoniously spun around and marched towards one of the waiting police cars. The ideal world she had so briefly glimpsed just a few hours ago was suddenly frightening and confusing. First Luca’s brutal rejection, now flashing lights and sirens and jeers from the crowd, but she refused to cry, refused to let anyone see how much this was hurting her, refused to look at anyone—until her eyes caught sight of him….
Luca Fierezza standing there, despite the forty-degree heat, impassive and cool, watching the proceedings from a slight distance, his face unreadable as he registered her plight. Meg’s first instinct was to cry out to him, to ask him for assistance. She knew somehow that he was the one person who could help her, but even as she opened her mouth to call out to him she choked her plea back. The black eyes staring at her held none of the warmth she had briefly witnessed, the mouth that had kissed her was now pressed in the same firm, grim line it had been when she’d left him, and somewhere deep inside Meg knew, just knew this was his doing, knew in that instant that he wasn’t going to help her.
Well, she wouldn’t let him see her pain—wouldn’t let him know any of her agony. Whatever twisted game he was playing, she wasn’t going to partake in it! And though the fight in her might have appeared to have died—her body seemingly weak and pliable as the police officers roughly shepherded her into one of the cars—inside she was regrouping, stronger perhaps than she had ever been in her life. Pressed against the door, she pulled her thighs away so there was no contact with her captor, closed her mind to his angry words. Meg hunched herself forward, watched as blood dripped from her face to her legs, and ran a dry tongue over her bruised and swollen mouth. Taking slow, deep breaths as the car careered through Niroli at breakneck speed, she tried to somehow regain control when there appeared to be none.
She would call the embassy—whatever mess she was in it would soon be sorted. There were rules for this sort of thing, procedures in place for tourists in trouble abroad—she had nothing to fear.
Despite the direness of her predicament, Meg felt her fear abate a notch, the steely grit that had got her through her difficult, difficult life coming to the fore when she needed it most, but it wavered a touch as she recalled Luca’s hostile stare—the man she had almost trusted, nearly let into her life, causing her more pain than the injuries and indignity she had so recently suffered.
Well, she’d learnt her lesson.
For the first time she’d let down her guard, trusted that the world could be kind and gentle if only she let it, and look what had happened….
Never again.
Meg held her head high now, stared out of the window as they turned a corner and the Niroli palace came into view, its impressive walls burnt orange in the late afternoon sun, its beauty mocking her as the car halted and she was roughly pulled out, the sight of the palace her last image of the outside world as she was frogmarched into the police station and forced to endure another degrading search before she was bundled into a tiny, dimly lit cell.
No one would hurt her again.

CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE DESERVED IT.
Scribbling his signature on a thick pile of correspondence, Luca tried and failed to put the image of Meg from his mind. Since her arrest, Luca had made several impromptu checks on various areas of the casino, taken care of endless phone calls he’d long been putting off, and, for the first time since he’d taken the business over, cleared his overflowing correspondence tray, but nothing he did managed to fully erase the image of Meg’s stricken face as the police had led her to the car.
Where had he seen that expression before? His mind started to drift, to search the recesses of his mind in an attempt to match the image he was seeking, but Luca abruptly halted it there.
Forget about her, Luca demanded of himself. Forget about the wretched thief, the woman who could have brought him shame and scandal when he needed it the least. Glancing at his watch, Luca saw that it was nearly midnight. Glad that this vile day was nearly over and with a shake of his head, he stood up, deciding to head to his suite and shower and change, then head to the bar, end his wretchedness with a stiff drink and perhaps some company. Only despite his best efforts, still Luca’s thoughts reluctantly turned to her….
She hadn’t even put up a fight, Luca scorned—if she’d been innocent, surely she’d have been enraged, hissing and spitting like a kitten. No, it was almost as if she’d been expecting it, had known what the police were there for.
‘A call for you, sir.’ Despite the lateness of the hour, his secretary buzzed the intercom—her day not over until Luca discharged her.
‘No more calls,’ Luca snapped. ‘I’m finished for the day—you can go home now.’
‘It’s Her Royal Highness.’
And if it had been any other minute of any other day, Luca would have taken the call without hesitation, his mother, Laura, the one woman whose calls weren’t screened, who was usually put through without hesitation—just not this time.
‘I said no calls,’ Luca barked. But instead of marching out of the office, instead of heading to the bar where it would be so, so much safer to go, he sat back down in the darkness, black bile churning in his stomach as a piece of this reluctant puzzle slotted into place….
Unwelcome, seldom-visited memories pelted his mind like a sudden hailstorm—a storm so violent, so forceful, so rapid in its arrival that there was no time to seek cover, no time to shield himself from its onslaught, so that all he could do was wait, sit at his desk with his head in his hands and ride out the storm in the hope it would quickly pass.
It didn’t.
Each memory lashed him more fiercely.
Watching again his father’s fist slam into his mother’s face, her long black hair, taut in his fingers, as over and over she took the beating, never once crying out—just as Luca hadn’t. Peering into the room that hateful night he had stifled his screams by instinct, something telling him, even at this tender age, that what he was witnessing must never be acknowledged.
He’d tried, though. Ramming his knuckles into his fist, Luca felt the slap of his mother’s hand again on his cheek; felt the confusion, the bewilderment all over again as she’d later denied what he had seen take place, told him off for even thinking such filthy things.
But he had seen it, had seen his mother, despite the indignity, somehow still proud, somehow stronger in her passiveness than the brute that beat her.
He’d seen that expression once in his mother, her face etched with stricken dignity as that bastard had laid into her, and he’d seen it again today—with Meg.
It was a fifteen minute drive to the palace, but Luca did it in eight—his silver car rattling around the tight bends at breakneck speed. Instead of turning off into the guarded private road to the palace, he carried on to the prison, not even taking the keys out of the ignition before he strode in. ‘Where is she?’
The guard jumped to his feet, recognising Luca instantly and fumbling to cover his sordid trail—stubbing out a cigarette and ramming a bottle into a drawer.
‘In the cell.’ He gave a low laugh, which revealed black, rotting teeth. ‘She says she wants a lawyer. I told her all the lawyers in Niroli are retained by you!’
‘What else has she said?’
‘She’s crazy.’ He tapped the side of his head a couple of times. ‘She refuses her meals, refuses to sleep, or to put on the clothes we give her. She went crazy in there before—like an animal, pulling off the mattress, kicking at the walls, throwing her meal when we gave it to her. Now she says she is sister to Prince Alessandro….’
‘What?’ Luca barked. ‘What exactly did she say?’
‘That she came to the island to meet her brother—she gave his other name—the one he had before….’
‘Alex Hunter?’ Luca frowned, his mind racing. Was that what had happened—had the attraction that had flared the second he’d laid eyes on her actually been recognition?
Alessandro was his cousin—they shared the same grandfather, so if somehow he had a sister.?
‘I want to talk to her.’ It wasn’t a request, it was an order, Luca’s urgent words delivered almost in anger, and the guard knew better than to question it—just a slight raise of untidy eyebrows as he shrugged and led Luca to the cells.
She was adopted! As he followed the guard down the dank stairwell he replayed their earlier conversation over, recalling the details, and relief flooded him as he remembered what Meg had said. Even if she were somehow related to Alessandro, then it wasn’t by blood—but it was a royal prince’s sister who was locked up in a cell and about to be charged with theft—a scandal the family could do without just now.
For the old king’s sake—for the honour of the family—the fact Alessandro’s sister had been arrested for the attempted theft of the Niroli jewels, no less, was something that had to be kept quiet.
‘Aspetta—wait!’ Despite Luca’s haste to get to her, there was one unsavoury duty that needed to be performed first—one last court with disaster before the king made his decision. Pulling out his wallet, Luca delivered his orders to the guard, hoping to God as he did so that the half-drunk bottle of whisky he had seen him shove into the drawer would be empty by the morning—that this blurry exchange would be nothing but a distant memory by dawn.
The cells were mainly empty apart from a couple of drunks sleeping it off, but the pubs and clubs hadn’t closed yet. Luca knew that by morning the place would be rank with Niroli’s low life. As he entered the dreary area that housed Meg, Luca knew that it wasn’t duty that was driving him—as he made his way in, his eyes taking a moment to accustom to the dim lights, Luca knew it was her he was truly there for.
She was sitting on the simple metal bed, back rigid, staring fixedly ahead, not even turning as they approached, and Luca knew, quite simply, that she didn’t belong in such a rank place.
Whatever emotions he’d been feeling before were paltry compared to what he felt now. He’d thought her beautiful, but realised it was a shallow description. Here, with her hair dark from sweat, her face a mess of dried blood and grime, and her top torn, sitting on the bare metal frame of the bed with a rudimentary attempt of a meal upturned on the floor beside her, he witnessed something in Meg far deeper and longer lasting than beauty. Despite the chaos of the room there was an elegance to her that seemed to reach somewhere deep inside him and twist his stomach, something about her that tugged at him. He’d always liked women, always enjoyed their company, but this ran deeper. This feeling Meg stirred wasn’t about him, but instead about her and what he could do for her—only she mustn’t know.
This isn’t your doing!
There was an attempt at reason, to remind himself that it was her actions that had put her in this place—but it was futile. Whatever her reasons, whatever had driven her to steal last night, he wanted to know them—wanted so much more from Meg than he wanted from most women.
He wanted to get to know her….
Good or bad—he wanted all of her.
‘Alzarsi!’ Meg’s grasp of the Italian language might be less than basic, but as the guard entered her cell and pulled her to her feet there was little room for misunderstanding and Meg did as she was told: she stood up. But nothing more—refusing to turn her head, refusing to acknowledge Luca Fierezza as he stepped into the tiny cell.
She’d known he was here—had heard his deep, angry voice for the last few moments—but whatever his reason for coming, it was too little, too late. The last couples of hours had been a nightmare: no one spoke more than a few words of English and, combined with Meg’s few words of Italian, the police and guards had seemed to take pleasure in the chaos it had created. Taunting her when she’d asked for a lawyer or for them to contact the embassy, laughing in her face when Meg had written down Alex’s name for them and tried to explain that until recently her brother had worked at the hospital. Then, after a rough body search, she had been thrown in the tiny, damp cell—which for Meg was the worst part of all, the tiny cell, the isolation, so reminiscent of her younger years it was impossible not to compare, not to relive the virtual prison of her childhood, impossible for it not to provoke a reaction. The guard bringing her a meal, ordering her to eat, had, for Meg, been the final straw and now, exhausted from her outburst, amidst the chaos she’d created, she stood before Luca.
‘Meg, are you okay?’ It was such a relief to hear English, her determination not to look at him, not to talk to him, weakened a touch, but she held on—still, even at this eleventh hour, trusting that order would prevail, that a lawyer, an official, someone would come and sort out this chaos.
‘Meg, talk to me,’ Luca insisted. ‘I can help you.’
Her top lip sneered in disgust and somehow Luca knew she wasn’t going to accept his offer of help, that, even if she was the guilty one, somehow it was he, Luca, she mistrusted. ‘Aqua,’ Luca snapped to the guard, thinking on his feet, trying somehow to get her to realise that he was on her side. He barked orders in Italian to the guard, demanding he get food and something to clean up Meg’s face with. Only when they were alone did he approach Meg, but she recoiled as if he were poison and with supreme effort he halted, stifling the instinct to take her in his arms and soothe her. ‘Meg …’ He stared at the paltry room, took in the upturned meal on the floor and struggled to find what to say, how to reach her. ‘You should eat something….’
‘I’d rather starve than eat what they bring me.’ Even if it was laced with venom, at least she was talking, Luca conceded.
‘You could be here for some time—you should change out of these dirty clothes, get some sleep. You need to eat—’
‘Why?’ Angry, defensive eyes turned to him. ‘Why should I wear their clothes or sleep or eat at their command when I have done nothing wrong? Anyway, what is it to you? What exactly are you here for, Luca?’
‘As I said, I am here to help you.’
He thought she might spit at him—her face was so sour with contempt she was barely recognisable.
‘More likely, you’re here to make sure that your handiwork has been carried out properly. Well, as you can see, it has been. Is this what happens when you refuse to sleep with the prince of Niroli?’
‘It has nothing to do with that!’ The guard was back and, taking the bowl of water and cloths he’d brought with him, Luca dismissed him, leading her to the bed where she reluctantly sat, examining the small cut in her eyebrow. ‘I will clean your face. It is dirty in this cell—the wound will get infected.’
‘I’ll clean it,’ Meg snarled, but he didn’t listen, just calmly dipped the fabric into the water and bathed her wounds as the first sting of tears since her arrest reached her eyes. His hand was so supremely gentle, so tender, she couldn’t help but compare it to the treatment the guards had given earlier, and for a second it was just easier somehow to let him help, to close her eyes as gently he removed the dried blood and dirt before pulling out of his pocket a heavy silk handkerchief and telling her to press it to her face.
‘You will need a stitch or two. Do you know if the guard has arranged a doctor?’
‘I’m sure that he has it on his list of people to call for me.’
Her sarcasm wasn’t wasted on Luca, his eyes shuttering closed for a moment and she hoped it was in guilt, guilt for what he had done to her, but in that second he changed, his demeanour shifting from tender to practical.
‘You stole from me, Meg—I saw the evidence myself. I had no choice but to call the police. You are here because you are a thief. Now we have to work out what to do with you.’
‘Do with me?’ Meg gave an incredulous laugh. ‘And what the hell do you mean that I stole from you?’
‘I’ve seen the evidence, Meg.’
‘How?’ She balled her fists to her temples in an attempt to calm down, the whole thing getting more ludicrous by the moment. She’d realised the guards thought her a common thief, that much she understood, but hearing it from Luca, realising he thought that of her, was almost more than she could take. ‘How could you have seen something when it didn’t even happen?’
‘The jewels that were found in your bag are the Niroli family jewels, so, yes, you stole from me. Why you would do such a thing I do not know. Whatever trouble you are in I will try to help, try to understand, but it is imperative—’
‘Luca—I am not a thief,’ Meg broke in. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I want is a lawyer, someone to ring the embassy so that this mess can be sorted. I’ve never stolen a single thing in my life.’
It was like rewinding his life—watching the woman he adored furiously denying what he had witnessed—only this time he wouldn’t back down. He was a man now—not a confused child. He was a royal prince and he would not be lied to, would not just choose to believe her because it was easier to.
‘Don’t lie to me!’ His words were a roar, his six-foot-two frame jumping from the bed and towering over her. She was so convincing, so utterly, utterly convincing that if he hadn’t seen the evidence himself, he’d have believed her—wanted to believe her—wanted to be taken in by this vixen’s lies.
‘I will not be lied to,’ Luca repeated, but more calmly this time, speaking to her now as he would any of his staff that had overstepped the mark and needed to be pulled swiftly back into line. ‘I am here to try to help you, but how can I do that when still you lie to me? I saw it with my own eyes, Meg. I saw you taking the jewels from the display—they were found in your backpack, wrapped in the top you were wearing last night.’ On and on he went, each word damning her, each word confusing her further, because he clearly believed them, and all Meg knew was that it was imperative that Luca believe in her.
‘I don’t know what you saw or what you’ve been told, but you’re mistaken.’ She stared right at him as she spoke. ‘If you can’t or won’t believe me, then can you please just call a lawyer or the embassy for me in the morning?’
‘It’s Saturday tomorrow,’ Luca pointed out, ‘and it is a long weekend for the Feast—there can be no officials contacted till Tuesday, perhaps even Wednesday.’
‘Then can you please try and get hold of my brother for me …?’ Meg gulped back tears, her voice wobbling with fear as she realised that this nightmare wasn’t anywhere near over and, though she was loath to ask Luca for any assistance, it was infinitely preferable to staying here. ‘His name’s Alex Hunter. He was working at the hospital—’
‘Alessandro Fierezza is on his honeymoon,’ Luca interrupted, ‘on his way back to Australia. Alessandro is not going to be able to help you now.’
‘Alessandro?’ Meg gave a bewildered shake of her head. ‘I don’t know any Alessandro. I’m asking you to find my brother—’
‘My cousin,’ Luca brutally cut in, taking no pleasure as her proud face literally crumpled before his eyes, but his face remained impassive. He knew she needed him to be strong, that this fiery, independent woman wouldn’t take a grain of his sympathy. ‘Your brother is my cousin—get it? Alessandro is a royal prince—’
‘No!’ It didn’t make sense, nothing today made any sense. Alex was a doctor, her brother, the most honourable man she knew, if he’d had news this big he’d have told her himself, face to face….
He’d wanted to.
The truth, however unpalatable, was starting to sink in. Alex had said the news was huge; could this have been it? Like Meg, Alex had been adopted, only at a much younger age, so his past was vague, but he was of Italian descent and the receptionist at the hospital had used the same name Luca was using now—Alessandro Fierezza.
Burying her face in her hands, Meg struggled for control, tried to glimpse some way out of this hellish mess. Drunken, loud voices were coming from upstairs, the tiny cells starting to fill with undesirables, and she was trapped here till God knew when….
‘I can sort this mess out for you, Meg.’
‘How?’ Peeling down her fingers, Meg stared up at him.
‘I just can….’ Luca’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, unsure how Meg would react to what he had done, but somehow guessing she wouldn’t take it particularly well. ‘I can make this go away.’
‘You mean you’ll bribe someone!’Appalled, Meg shook her head, but Luca was insistent.
‘You are the sister of a prince—therefore you do not belong here. The family cannot afford the scandal at this time.’
‘The only scandal is that I’ve been locked up and accused of a crime I didn’t commit,’ Meg retorted. ‘I don’t need you covering my tracks, Luca. It’s your family that will suffer if I stay here.’
‘It will cause shame for your brother,’ Luca pointed out. But Meg wasn’t about to be subdued.
‘Then you clearly don’t know Alex,’ she flared back. ‘He’d tell me to fight my case. Unlike you, Alex would believe a woman who was speaking the truth.’
‘Then your brother is a fool,’ Luca retorted. ‘We both know you lie, we both know the truth. You can stay here and rot, then. I have offered assistance. I have done the right thing by Alessandro. It is not my fault if you will not accept it!’
This was getting nowhere; Luca had quickly realised that. He could hear the processing of the new prisoners taking place upstairs, knew that at any given moment he might be recognised. If Meg didn’t come with him now, he would have to leave her here to fight her case alone.
Staring down at her, defiant, wary and so very, very scared, Luca knew what he had to do, knew that she was too proud for charity, too proud to back down—so he did what he did best.
Cut her a deal—Luca style.
Let her think she had a choice, let her think she had a chance of winning.
‘Maybe there is another way,’ Luca mused out loud. ‘Last night I said I wanted to spend time with you; last night I explained I wanted the pleasure of your company….’
‘You had that today,’ Meg attempted, but Luca shook his head.
‘Forget today, Meg. Now I know how low you stoop, the offer drops. I will not bribe the guard, but I will pay your bail—I will assure him that I am taking care of you and that you will return for your hearing with suitable representation.’
‘And in return?’ For the first time since he’d arrived Luca actually smiled. ‘You mean you want me as your puttana,’ Meg spat. It was one of the few Italian words she did know—she had heard it several times since she’d been locked up, and it was one of the few words that needed little translation. He was literally offering to buy her company. ‘You’re not doing this out of some false sense of duty to Alex, you’re offering this because of how I look!’
‘Well, you don’t look very good at this moment,’ Luca retorted, ‘but I think you will scrub up very nicely. This is a good offer, Meg,’ he continued. ‘You can stay here and take your chances with the guards and your fellow prisoners, or I will pay your bail and you can come with me and stay in luxurious surrounds until Tuesday, when I will arrange full access to one of the best lawyers on the mainland.’
‘And for the privilege—I’ll have to share your bed!’
‘Of course.’ He stared down at his watch, tapped an impatient foot as he awaited her decision, and her first instinct was to slap him, to spit on his arrogant face and tell him where the hell he could put his offer, but something held her back. Realisation sank in that she was here for the duration. Her passport had already been taken, her belongings locked away. Here she had no rights, no possessions, but as the prince’s mistress she would be afforded decent legal representation—could get out of this mess through the correct channels instead of offering some sleazy bribe.
She still had a choice.
She would choose to eat at his table, choose to share his bed, but she wouldn’t share her heart…. Luca Fierezza had enough money and power to buy her company for a short while, but he would never hold her heart.

CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY DROVE IN SILENCE to the palace, Luca’s car hugging the beach road, the palace easily visible thanks to a vast moon hanging low in the sky, but despite the warm night air as she’d stepped from the prison to the custody of her new jailer, Meg had started violently shivering, so she sat now huddled in the passenger seat wearing Luca’s jacket.
‘Why aren’t we going to the casino?’
‘You will be recognised at the casino—you are on the black list. Until we can arrange for some new clothes, your hair to be done differently, you will have to stay away from there.’
‘But surely.’
‘The staff at the palace are discreet—that is why I am taking you there.’
‘Won’t they at least want to know who I am?’
‘Why would they?’ Luca shrugged and she glanced over at him, taking in his perfect profile, the sheer maleness he radiated, the absolute arrogant beauty of him, and the unpalatable truth was further affirmed. They wouldn’t ask questions because this was clearly a regular occurrence—oh, not the rescue from the jail, but clearly the palace staff were more than used to Luca arriving home at all hours with a woman in tow! ‘I will arrange a doctor to come and tend to your cut.’
‘I don’t need a doctor, and anyway,’ Meg added, ‘surely he would ask questions.’
‘Why would he? I pay for his discretion,’ Luca responded with all the arrogance of the truly rich, but he did at least concede that her arrival might cause some issues, because as the gates to a private road slid open and the car approached he momentarily stopped and, with the engine idling, he turned to face her.
‘This is what we do. I tell my family the truth—you are Alessandro’s sister, you came to the island to look him up not realising he had already left. That is why I am taking care of you.’
‘So am I here as Alex’s sister or your mistress?’ Meg quipped, but Luca, as always, had an answer.
‘Both.’ He turned and gave her a dry smile. ‘Just remember, though, your first duty is to me.’
‘And the cut?’ Meg snapped. ‘Did that come in the line of duty?’
‘Jet-skiing.’ Luca gave a rare smile—clearly happy with his fabrication. ‘You had an accident jet-skiing today when you were exploring. You were hoping your brother would be able to patch you up.’
‘That’s not the truth,’ Meg pointed out.
‘Oh, but from now on it is.’ Black eyes bore into hers. ‘You really don’t expect me to tell them you were attempting to steal the Niroli jewels, do you?’
‘No, because that isn’t the truth, either.’
He didn’t respond, just pulled off the handbrake and drove along the stretch of road towards the palace, orange groves flanking their progress. Despite the vile day, despite an exhausted mind that just wanted to switch from all that was happening, Meg couldn’t help but be impressed at the sheer splendour of the building she’d till now only glimpsed from a distance. A huge fourteenth-century castle, it stood proud on the edge of the ocean as if carved out of the rocks itself, and Meg could scarcely believe that this was where she would be calling home for the next few days.
Even before the car had slid to a halt, despite the lateness of the hour the door was opened by waiting staff, but Luca barely greeted them, just exchanging a few words with a burly, suited gentleman before taking a stunned and shivering Meg by the arm and leading her to a side entrance, which Meg soon realised was the access to the palace’s private apartments.
‘That was my bodyguard, Luigi,’ Luca needlessly explained his earlier conversation. ‘He is annoyed that again I did not tell him I was leaving the casino. I will speak with him in the morning—if you need to leave the palace for any reason, he is to drive and accompany you.’
‘I don’t need an escort,’ Meg responded tightly.
‘Perhaps not,’ Luca answered as he pushed open the door to his apartment, ‘but since I signed your bail papers you are my responsibility. I want to be sure I know where you are—and, more importantly, that you will return.’
She was too tired to be indignant or even attempt a smart retort. She stepped inside Luca’s luxurious apartment. Someone on the gate must have alerted the staff, because even though it was only a matter of minutes since the car had entered the palace grounds there was a fire taking hold in the magnificent marble fireplace and the lights were all on. A large whisky had been poured and set on an occasional table, which Luca downed in one gulp while Meg still stood at the doorway taking in her surrounds. Lavishly furnished, the apartment had been exquisitely refurbished—somehow managing to combine the fourteenth-century décor with all the luxuries of the twenty-first century. Vast high walls were broken by voile curtains that swept the shuttered windows, a papal purple carpet runner softened the cool Italian marble floor. The apartment was a virtual treasure trove of antiques and under any other circumstances Meg would have been thrilled to explore, but all she could do was stand and shiver, overwhelmed with fatigue, and Luca, for the first time since the prison, was gently perceptive, guiding her limp body across to the warmth of the fire.
‘Even in summer the castle is cool at night,’ Luca explained, but there was a worried edge to his voice, his hand running over her forehead as if she were a child and he were checking her temperature, ‘The doctor will be here soon.’
‘You’ve called him?’ Meg frowned, worried that she couldn’t remember, but Luca shook his head. ‘I told Luigi to take care of it.’
There was clearly no trouble arranging a rapid house call when you were Niroli royalty, and the doctor arrived shortly afterwards. Any worries Meg might have had about explaining her injuries were quashed when Luca did what little talking was required.
‘You need two stitches on your …’ Luca tapped his own eyebrow by explanation, then gave a small wince as the doctor said something else to him. ‘He says he can give you an injection to make it numb before he stitches you, but that will hurt as much as if he just goes ahead and puts in the stitches without it.’
‘No injections!’
‘Il donatore il suo anestetico locale’ Luca fired at the doctor in rapid Italian. Too quick for Meg to grasp. ‘What did you say?’ Meg asked as the doctor nodded.
‘I said that he was to numb it first for you.’ ‘Well, that’s not what I want. Can you please tell him to just go ahead and do the stitches?’ Meg countered. ‘But it will hurt.’
‘So will the anaesthetic,’ Meg pointed out, ‘and next time you decide to act as a translator for me, please, allow me to answer for myself!’ As Luca opened his mouth to argue, Meg got there first. ‘What is he saying now?’
‘That he will use the finest silk, and that with make-up the cut will not show. After he has tended your wound you are to bathe and sleep.’ He checked his understanding of the order of events with the doctor, who was setting up his tools, then elaborated. ‘You are to bathe, have a light supper and then sleep—he will come and check on you again some time over the weekend. I’ll have the housekeeper run you a bath.’
‘I’d prefer a shower.’ Meg screwed her eyes closed as the doctor poured out antiseptic and proceeded to clean her wound.
‘Would you?’ Luca snapped. ‘Or are you just determined to contradict everything I say?’
‘Yes to both,’ Meg answered cheekily. As Luca let out a hiss of indignation, she caught his eyes and gave him a tiny glimmer of a smile, which, after a beat of hesitation, he reluctantly reciprocated. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’
The stitches hurt, though not that much, and Meg bit hard on her lip as the needle went in and out. When Luca reached for her hand to comfort her, she pulled it back, preferring to see this through by herself.
‘You are very brave,’ Luca commented once the doctor had gone and finally they were alone. ‘Not many people would sit there so still. In fact.’ His voice trailed off—the only other person he could think of who would react as Meg had, who would barely offer a reaction as their wounds were tended, was his mother.

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