Harlequin Presents--April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Read online

  Amy contributed as best she could, but she was having trouble concentrating. She’d nearly fainted when Luca walked in. She had half expected him to announce she was off the case and should catch the first flight back to London. Last night had been a rough one full of self-recriminations—and not just because their kiss had been so improper.

  Was it, though?

  Or was she searching for a way to rationalize her own poor judgment?

  She wasn’t an impressionable student any longer. She was an adult and their kiss had been completely consensual, but Luca did have power over her, most of it financial. He also had enough influence politically and socially to destroy London Connection if he wanted to call her out as offering sex to entice his business or some other twist of the truth.

  Was it naive of her to believe he would never do such a thing? She barely knew him, but she didn’t believe that he had it in him to act so dishonorably.

  No, the real power Luca wielded was his ability to make her cast aside common sense.

  As she’d ruminated alone last night, over a meal she’d barely touched, part of her had been tempted to tear up their contract, pack up and disappear in the dead of night.

  It would cost her a nonperformance fee and impact her own reputation as dedicated and reliable, but Amy had suffered through hard times before. She wasn’t as vulnerable and cushioned from reality as she’d been when she’d first been expelled, either. She didn’t want to start over, but she knew how to do it. And she had modest savings set aside for exactly the sort of emergency that would arise if she turned her back on Luca as a client.

  Amy wasn’t a quitter, though. And she didn’t want to believe she was so weak she could fall under a man’s spell and ruin her own life in the process. Not again.

  Eventually, to quiet her mind, she had gone back to working on the gala presentation and the other, private assignment. If Luca decided to fire her for lacking professionalism, so be it. She, at least, would carry on as if she still had the job.

  Which, it turned out, wasn’t any easier than being fired. It meant facing him again. In front of a crowd. She had tried to sound knowledgeable and unaffected by the memory of their kiss while her ideas were picked apart and his laser-like gaze watched her every move.

  Now the meeting had broken up and a footman was leading her back to the private wing of the palace. He showed her into a different room from last night, this one a parlor in colors of olive and straw and pale, earthy reds.

  “The king will be with you shortly,” he said before he evaporated.

  Amy took a cleansing breath and allowed the open doors to draw her out to a small, shaded courtyard. It was full of blooming roses exuding fragrances of lemon and raspberry, green tea, honey and cloves. She felt like a bee, incapable of deciding which to sniff first.

  A small round table was set with snow-white linens and a splendiferous table setting fit for—well. Duh.

  She studied the gold pattern on the china plates and the scrolls of what had to be real gold applied to the glasses. A yellow orchid blossom sat on the gold napkin ring. The flatware was gold, too. Intricately patterned and heavy and engraved with the Italian word for—

  “Caught you,” Luca said, startling her into clattering the gold knife back into its spot.

  She sent him an admonishing look while his mouth curled into an amused smirk.

  He was so effortlessly perfect. Lean and athletic, confident in his own skin, moving as an intrinsic part of the beauty and luxury that surrounded him.

  “I was trying to make out what it said,” she grumbled. “My Italian needs work.”

  “The setting was commissioned for my grandparents’ wedding by my great-grandmother.” He touched different pieces of cutlery as he translated the various words etched upon each. “Respect, honesty, trust, loyalty. The foundation of a strong marriage.”

  Don’t read anything into it, Amy ordered herself, but couldn’t help the way her pulse quickened and her cheeks grew warm with self-consciousness.

  “My grandmother always used it when she had private luncheons with her women friends.” He touched a fork to minutely adjust its position. “So did my mother.”

  “What a lovely tradition.” Her heart twisted as she realized she was being very firmly friend zoned. “It puts a literal spin on women coming together to dish the dirt, doesn’t it? I’m honored you would share it with me.”

  “I’m sure it made the women feel privileged to hear palace gossip from the queen herself, but if we’re being honest?” He gave the knife with Lealtà scrolled upon it a sardonic nod. “I think it was also a reminder that the secrets she revealed were meant to be kept.”

  “The qualities of any good relationship, then.” Amy spoke with casual interest, but her veins stung with indignation. She wasn’t going to tell anyone that they’d kissed, if that’s what he was worried about. “I’ve signed a nondisclosure contract,” she reminded him, chin coming up a notch. “You don’t have to drive it home with a golden spike.”

  “I thought you’d think they were pretty,” he said in a blithe tone that disconcerted her because why would he care what she thought about anything? “The dishes and the courtyard.”

  “They are,” she allowed, feeling awkward now. Privileged and entrusted.

  He nodded past her and staff approached to seat them. Wine was poured, and as they took their first sips, her gaze clashed with his over their glasses. His expression was inscrutable, but the impact of looking him in the eye caused her to rattle the rim of her glass against her teeth. Her throat contracted on the wine, so she choked a bit, which she tried to suppress. The burn of alcohol seared a path behind her sternum.

  An antipasto course was served. The staff didn’t leave so they spoke of general things. Luca asked about the rest of her presentation, and Amy managed to say something lucid.

  “What drew you to public relations as a career?” he inquired.

  “Dumb luck. I was serving drinks at a pub. They had a band coming in, and I put it on my social media feeds. My circle was quite posh from school, daughters of celebs and such. One was a girl from a movie that was a cult favorite. She came out, and it turned the pub into that summer’s hot spot. Another pub asked me to put them on the map, and word got out on the music circuit. Instead of serving drinks, I started planning and promoting events. The more people I knew, the more I got to know.”

  “I presumed you’d taken a degree, not learned on the job.”

  “I’ve since taken a vocational qualification.” She didn’t have to elaborate on why she hadn’t gone to uni. Rice and fish were served, delicately spiced with saffron and scallions.

  While they enjoyed it, he told her some more history about the palace and his country.

  By the time they’d finished with a custard tart topped with whipped cream and fresh berries, they had discovered they both enjoyed mind-teaser puzzles, horseback riding—though they found little time to pursue it—and shared a fascination with remote places on Earth.

  Amy had forgotten who he was and why she was here. This had become the most effortless, enjoyable date she’d been on in ages.

  Then Luca told the server, “We’ll take coffee in my drawing room,” and Amy crashed back to reality. This wasn’t a date.

  She found a smile and said, “Coffee sounds good.”

  A few minutes later, they walked down the hall to the room where they’d kissed last night. The drapes were open, allowing sunshine to pour into the expansive space, but it still felt intimate once the espresso had been served and they were alone.

  She understood the expression “walking on eggshells” as she approached the sofa. Each step crushed something fragile underfoot. Should she acknowledge last night? Express regret and move on? Ignore it completely and see if he brought it up?

  “I saw your press release this morning,” she said, deciding on an oblique re
ference to the phone call that had pulled them apart last night. “I’m glad things weren’t more serious.”

  After a brief pause, he drawled, “You ought to defuse bombs for a living.”

  “I do,” she replied mildly, obeying his wave and sinking onto the cushion. “Proverbial ones.” She felt as though a sizzling string was running toward a bundle of dynamite sitting beneath her.

  She added a few grains of raw, golden sugar to her coffee. He took his black.

  “It’s fine if we’re not going to talk about it,” she said in the most unconcerned tone she could find, sitting back and bringing her cup and saucer with her. “I respect boundaries. Yesterday’s evidence to the contrary,” she added with a wince of self-recrimination. “I don’t make a habit of behaving so unprofessionally.”

  “My behavior was wildly inappropriate, given my title and the fact I’ve hired you. I want to be clear that I expect nothing from you beyond the work I’ve commissioned from London Connection. If our contract is something you’d prefer to dissolve now, I would understand.”

  Weren’t they the most civilized people on the planet? And why did it make her feel as though she was swallowing acid?

  “We bear equal responsibility.”

  “Do we?” He sounded so lethal, it struck her as an accusation. Her heart lurched.

  “I’m not a victim.” Conviction rang in her tone. She refused to be one ever again. “I don’t think you are, either. Are you?” It took everything in her to hold his gaze and not shake so hard she’d spill hot coffee on her knee.

  “No. On the contrary, I can have nearly anything I want.” He smiled flatly. “It’s up to me to exercise control and not take it.”

  “You didn’t take anything I wasn’t giving. I’m not afraid to tell you no, Luca. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.” If I want to. The problem was, she didn’t really want to.

  His expression shifted into something close to a smile, but his exhalation gave away his annoyance.

  “What?” she asked caustically.

  “It makes you even more attractive,” he said bluntly. “That toughness inside that angelic persona you project. I find it infinitely fascinating. Which I shouldn’t tell you, but we’re past pretending we’re not attracted to each other. Better to name the beast.”

  Was it? Because something ballooned in her chest, cutting off her airways. She really was going to freak out and spill hot coffee all over herself.

  “It’s not like we can do anything about it,” she reminded him. “You’re about to publicly tie yourself to another woman.”

  His expression shuttered, and he didn’t sound pleased as he said, “True.”

  “I think I’ve found a good fit.” Amy forced herself to plow forward.

  “Oh?” Luca sat back, projecting skepticism. Reluctance, perhaps?

  “She’s an actor.” She leaned forward to set her coffee on the table. “She plays a spy on that cold war series that’s streaming right now. Even if you haven’t seen it, people would believe you might have. It’s very popular, and they film all over Europe so it’s feasible you would have been in the same city at some point. We could say you were introduced by a mutual acquaintance who remains nameless. She’s very pretty.” Amy flicked through her phone for the woman’s image.

  Luca took the phone long enough to glance at it before handing it back. “Why didn’t you suggest her yesterday?”

  Amy almost said, Because she’s very pretty.

  “I don’t know her that well. We met at a club a few weeks ago.” Amy had provided a shoulder while the woman poured her heart out over a man she was having trouble quitting. “I reached out last night with a very superficial mention of a potential ‘unique opportunity.’ She said she’d take a meeting. I’m waiting to hear where and when.”

  “How much do you think she would want?”

  “That’s why I think she would be a good fit. Obviously, she should be compensated, but I don’t think she’ll care about money or publicity. She generates plenty of both on her own. But when we met, she said something that leads me to think she would find it useful to be seen as being committed to a man of your caliber.”

  His brows went up in a silent demand for more info.

  “Romantic troubles. I don’t want to gossip out of turn. I’m sure she would be more forthcoming if you formed a liaison.”

  He hitched his trousers as he crossed one leg over the other, looking toward the windows with a flinty expression.

  Amy bit her lip, well practiced in giving a client time to process her suggestions. In this case exercising patience was especially hard. She was eager to please, but was so aware of their kiss—their mutual attraction—that it twisted her insides to suggest he even pretend to see another woman.

  After a long minute, he said, “I hate this.”

  Her heart lurched.

  Did he hate that he was sabotaging his own reputation? Or that he’d behaved badly with her and the repercussions were still coloring their discussion?

  Or was he harboring a secret regret, the way she was, that they had to relegate their kiss and any potential relationship firmly offstage?

  “I have to do this,” he said, bringing his gaze back to hers in an ice-blue swing of a scythe. “You understand that? I don’t have a choice to put it off or...” His hand scrolled the air and it sent an invisible lasso looping around her, strangling her. “I can’t chase what I want at the expense of what is right. I couldn’t even offer you—It would be once, Amy. Nothing more. And the window for that is already closing.”

  Amy supposed his words were a compliment, but they slapped like a rejection. Through the fiery agony, she reminded herself that she was respecting boundaries and nodded acceptance. “Don’t worry about me. My job comes first.”

  “Same.” His mouth twisted in dismay. “She sounds like a good option. Meet with her. Keep my name out of it until we’re further along.”

  “Of course.” She ignored how heavy it made her feel. “I’ll have her sign confidentiality agreements before I pitch it, and I’ll gauge better whether she’s a good fit before you’re mentioned at all.”

  “When will you see her?”

  “I’ve asked for tomorrow afternoon.” Her heart was pounding so hard, her ears hurt. “Do you want a slower rollout? If she turns it down, we’ll have to find someone else.”

  “I want my sister installed as quickly as possible,” he said decisively, rising.

  “I think we’re on the right track.” She rose too, getting the message that this meeting was over. “I’ll finish up my gala work while I wait to hear.”

  He nodded and she started to leave.

  “Amy,” he growled, sounding so deadly, her breath caught.

  She swung around.

  He wore a look of supreme frustration. His hands were in his pockets, but were fisted into rocks.

  “It would only be once,” he repeated grittily.

  Such a bright light exploded within her, she was ignited by the heat of a thousand suns.

  “Once is better than never.” She ran into his arms.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE CAUGHT HER, barely rocking on his feet. His arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her steady even as he hesitated. His lips peeled back against his teeth in a moment of strained conscience.

  “It’s just once,” Amy blurted in a bleak urgency that awakened old ghosts inside her. The wraiths slipped and swirled in cool trails of guilt, hissing, You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Nothing good will come of this.

  “Just once,” he echoed in groaning agreement as he claimed her mouth with his own.

  She’d been in a state of deprivation since last night. Relief poured through her as he dragged her back to where they’d left off. White heat radiated from his body into hers, burning away her cobwebs of misgivings. This was nothing like
that tainted, ancient memory from years ago. It was sweet and good and right.

  Amy felt safe and cherished in these arms that could crush, but didn’t. His mouth rocked across hers, seducing and ravaging, giving as much as he took. He stole soft bites of her tingling lips, and the heat in his eyes sent shimmering want through her limbs.

  “Will anyone come in?” She wasn’t ashamed of what they were doing, but she dreaded another discovery.

  “No,” he murmured, adding, “But let’s make sure.”

  He moved as if they were dancing, smoothly pivoting her before he caught her hand and swirled her toward an unassuming door. It led to an anteroom and from there they entered a massive bedroom.

  This was the king’s chamber, a mix of the palace’s opulence and Luca’s spare, disciplined personality. Huge glass doors led to a terrace that overlooked the sundial and the sea. The glass was covered in sheer drapes that turned the light pale gold. The marble floor was softened with a thick rug in shades of gold and green, the ceiling painted a soothing blue between the white plaster and gold filigree. There was a fireplace and a comfortable sitting area, and a button that he touched caused all the doors to click.

  “We have complete privacy now. Even the phone won’t ring.”

  He turned to her and she stepped into his arms with a sigh of gladness, wanting to be swept away again into that place where second thoughts were impossible.

  He cupped her face. His spiky lashes flickered as he scanned her features.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, uncertainty creeping in.

  “Absolutely nothing, but if we only have today, I’m damned well going to take my time and remember every second.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. His words dismantled her at a very basic level. She wasn’t that special. Didn’t he realize that? She was actually tarnished and broken. What she was doing right now with him was akin to stealing.

  But as the pad of his thumb slid across her bottom lip, she whispered, “I want to savor you, too.” She lifted a hand to touch his hair, startled to find the strands so soft and fine when it looked so thick.