Scandals Of The Royals: Princess From the Shadows. Carol Marinelli

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      “Don’t we all?” she asked.

      “Well, we don’t. Hard to keep secrets when the press follows you all the time.”

      “True. Anyway, I like the dress. I’m sorry I fought with you earlier.”

      “I like the dress too.” He’d like it better pooled into a puddle of black lace on his floor, but he would take what he could get.

      What was it about her that captivated him? Had he really thought her plain only a few days ago? He hadn’t been paying attention, clearly. With her dark hair pulled back into sleek bun, her curves emphasized by the fitted dress, olive skin visible in teasing amounts through the lace and the perfect amount of makeup to highlight her features, she was nothing short of stunning.

      “You look beautiful,” he said, because that was the kind of thing he said to women. But … he meant it. He always meant it, but usually he was performing a seduction. Words, then touch, then bed. But at the moment, he simply felt it was important for Carlotta to know.

      Carlotta didn’t want to feel anything when he said that. She knew how men worked. She’d fallen prey to easy lines like that in the past. So she really shouldn’t be feeling a rush of heat spreading through her. No flush of pleasure, no rapid heartbeat.

      She did though. Because Rodriguez was charming. There was a reason women swooned straight into his bed when he smiled at them. He was hot. And she was celibate.

      But she wasn’t stupid.

      “Thank you,” she said tightly.

      “You don’t like compliments?” he asked.

      “I don’t like insincere compliments.”

      “I was sincere.”

      “I … That’s not really what I meant.”

      A smiling woman whose face looked like it had been frozen into a permanently surprised expression approached them with her shorter, older husband on her arm. She spoke in rapid Spanish to Rodriguez, and Carlotta could only catch half of it.

      “Your new fiancée?” she asked, flashing a smile that showed unnaturally white teeth.

      “Sì,” Carlotta said, accepting the other woman’s double-cheek kiss.

      “Muy bonita!” she said.

      Rodriguez shot her a look. “I did tell you. Though perhaps you will take Señora Ramirez’s word for it?”

      Carlotta returned his look with a deadly one of her own before turning her attention back to Señora Ramirez. “Gracias.”

      The señora kept talking and Rodriguez translated when Carlotta didn’t understand.

      “She wants to know when the wedding is,” he said, a question in his tone, as if he were wondering the same thing.

      “Tell her we’re in no hurry.” Carlotta looked beyond Rodriguez and felt her heart sink into her stomach.

      “I’m in a hurry,” he said, his voice hushed, his hand snaking around her waist, palm resting on her hip.

      She cleared her throat. “Well, after my brother Alex gets married maybe …”

      That set Señora Ramirez off into a flurry of excited chatter, about invitations and gowns and two royal weddings, how exciting! Her husband just stood next to her, his expression blank.

      If Carlotta weren’t so overwhelmed, she would probably be fighting back laughter over the poor man’s plight. Her own parents were so suitably matched. Both so stoic and regal … well, stoic in public at least. She knew what it looked like when her father was angry. Angry beyond words.

      Now she was wishing she’d taken the last passing server up on his offer of room-temperature champagne….

      “Ah, bailar.” Señor Ramirez spoke for the first time as strains of classical music filled the ballroom.

      “I think I am needed now,” Señora Ramirez said. “You should dance too.” She turned to her husband and the look of pure, undisguised love that passed between them made Carlotta feel like she’d been hit in the chest with a rock.

      The way they looked at each other … it told her what she didn’t want to believe. That not everyone was cold in their marriage, like her parents. That not everyone lied, like Gabriel. That there was love and happiness.

      It would just never belong to her.

      You have Luca. That’s real love. Permanent love.

      “Care to dance, princesa?” Rodriguez turned a devastating grin her direction.

      No. She really, really didn’t. Because it brought back memories of another dance, on another night, and all of her weakness.

      “Of course,” she said, offering the Ramirezes a smile for good measure.

      Rodriguez kept his arm around her waist and they followed the older couple out onto the area in front of the stage that had been kept clear for dancing.

      When they were out in the center of it, he pulled her in, clasping her hand in his. “Try not to look so much like you want to chew me out,” he said dryly, resting his cheek against hers.

      She closed her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath, and just for one moment reveled in the feel of his hard body so close to hers. The light brush of stubble from his face. He was a man. So different from her. His body promised the kind of satisfaction that eluded her when she was by herself, more than a simple climax, but real, hot human touch. His scent would surround her, his heat.

      She shivered as he moved in time to the music. Nothing sexy, nothing that should send tremors of arousal through her. It was just a dry, classical piece. But Rodriguez’s touch made it seem like more. It made the strains of the cello warm, made the music wind through her body, wrapping around her, as though she were a part of it. One of the instruments. And he was playing her.

      She couldn’t even bring herself to care, she wanted to embrace it.

      This wasn’t safe. This wasn’t controlled. And she didn’t care.

      Because tonight she felt like a woman. And he was right, she had forgotten what that was like. She hadn’t seen the point in remembering. It was so much safer to get lost in the world of dinners at home and imaginary games with cuddle toys.

      There was nothing safe about being in Rodriguez’s embrace. She’d discovered that earlier in the corridor when they’d kissed. When she’d all but attacked him, truth be told.

      No, his embrace was danger. Delicious, dark, decadent, probably bad for her, but all the better for it. Part of her wondered what was wrong with her. The other part didn’t care. Not now. He was stealing control out of her hands. And she was letting him.

      “Feeling warm?” he asked, his voice a whisper, his lips pressed against her earlobe.

      “How did you know?”

      “Because СКАЧАТЬ