Playing the Royal Game. Carol Marinelli

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СКАЧАТЬ have thought you’d have no trouble at all fighting off unwelcome attention.’ Unlike me, she didn’t add, but then she wasn’t particularly used to men vying for her attention—well, not gorgeous ones anyway. But knowing how to deflect unwelcome attention was surely a prerequisite to him stepping out on the street, because wherever he went he surely turned heads.

      ‘Normally, I have no problem.’ He didn’t say it in arrogance, merely stated the fact. ‘Just today.’ She looked at his suit. ‘I was just trying to have a drink, to think, to have some silence, perhaps the same as you….’ And while she’d have chosen to have some peace, she’d settle for silence too.

      ‘Okay.’ She gave a begrudging smile. ‘I can manage silence.’

      He must be someone, because all she had been given was a small bowl of nuts, but now that he’d joined her she was treated to lots of little bowls of goodies. She didn’t care if she looked greedy; the rumble in her stomach reminded Allegra that she hadn’t eaten since the slice of toast she’d had while dashing to the Underground some seven hours ago.

      ‘I’d better sign you in,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you got to a table. They are normally very…’ He didn’t finish, but the insinuation that she didn’t belong had her blushing to her roots.

      ‘Particular!’ Allegra finished for him, and again she went to reach for her bag. She did not need his charity and certainly not his insults. Today really wasn’t proving to be the best.

      ‘Thorough.’ He actually smiled at her indignation, a lovely smile that suited him—the very first smile from him that she had seen—and it changed him, changed those haughty, guarded features in a way she rather liked. It was a small smile, not a wide one, a smile she somehow knew was one that was rarely shared. It had to be rare, she figured, because the effect was completely devastating. It fostered awareness, made even listening somehow terribly difficult, because what had offended just a moment before hardly mattered a jot as he spoke on. She had to remind herself that a few seconds ago she’d been rather disgruntled, had to force herself to not sit there like an idiot and smile back. ‘I meant that they are usually very thorough.’

      ‘You’re forgiven then.’ And despite her best intentions, Allegra realised she was smiling back.

      ‘What’s your name?’

      ‘Allegra,’ she said. ‘Allegra Jackson. Two l’s.’

      ‘I’m Aless…’ He hesitated, just for a second. ‘Alex.’

      And she watched as he headed off, breathed a little sigh of relief, because normally when she said her name there was a frown, or a little flare of recognition. Her family managed to hit the newsstands with alarming regularity, and even though she was, in the main, left out of the scandal and gossip they all generated, her rather unusual first name, combined with the surname of Jackson generally led to the inevitable…’Are you Bobby Jackson’s daughter?’

      He headed over to the book and signed her in in the guest column. He’d almost given his real name. It wasn’t exactly a secret but in general, and especially in London, he went by Alex Santina, businessman extraordinaire, not HRH Crown Prince Alessandro Santina. He guessed the slipup was because he’d been sitting there thinking about Santina, thinking about the angry discussion he’d recently had with his father. He was tired too, Alex realised, and that was unusual, for fatigue was a rare visitor for him. But lately he’d felt it, and today, standing in that church, it had washed over him and literally drained him. He did not recognise that he was upset; funerals did not upset him and he had attended many. He’d hardly known Charles after all.

      He signed Allegra in and then walked back towards her. He’d seen her arrive and could fully understand the waitress’s mistake—often the doors opened and before they were questioned as to their membership people would shrink back, realising their mistake. But she, or rather Allegra, after a brief glance around, had taken off her coat and hung it up. There was a quiet confidence to her, an ease in her surroundings that would, Alex knew, have had the waitress assume she was a member.

      He took his seat and then changed his mind and stood to take off his jacket, the waitress practically tripping over herself to catch it.

      He didn’t smile at the waitress, Allegra noticed, nor did he thank her.

      Nor did he glance over to the table of women who had fallen rather silent as he peeled off the black garment to reveal a crisp white shirt that set off his olive skin. There were no horrible surprises beneath his jacket, just a toe-curling moment as he tucked his shirt in a little, and Allegra again breathed in the scent of him, wanted another glimpse of that smile. But it had retreated now and he gave her the silence she’d insisted on and just sat and stared beyond her and out of the window, his index finger idly circling the top of the glass. Maybe it was too much champagne, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, maybe he had a doctorate in suggestive flirting, because for a bizarre moment she wished she were beneath his finger, wished it was her that he idly stroked.

      ‘Sorry.’ He misinterpreted her shifting in discomfort. ‘I’m not much company—today has been a harder one than I expected.’

      ‘Was it someone close?’ she asked, for it was clear he had been to a funeral.

      ‘Not really.’ He thought for a moment. ‘He works for me, or rather he did—Charles. We were, in fact, here last week for his retirement.’ He glanced around the room clearly remembering.

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘That’s just what you say, isn’t it,’ Allegra responded, wishing he wouldn’t make her cheeks burn so, wishing he didn’t make her over-think every last word.

      ‘He wasn’t a friend,’ Alex said, and topped up his champagne. ‘Really, I hardly knew him—you don’t have to be sorry.’

      ‘Then I’m not!’ She blew up her fringe with her breath, gorgeous to look at he may be, but he really was rather hard work. ‘I’m not in the least sorry that you’ve been to a funeral and that you’re feeling a bit low. Funerals do that…’ she added. ‘Even if you hardly know the person.’

      ‘They don’t bother me,’ Alex said. ‘And believe me, I’ve been to many.’ And then he conceded. ‘Well, usually they don’t get to me.’

      She wasn’t going to risk saying sorry again.

      ‘So what’s your excuse?’ He looked up from his glass. ‘Or do you regularly sit nursing a bottle of champagne in the afternoon.’

      She actually laughed. ‘Er, no. I lost my job.’ He didn’t fill the silence, he didn’t offer condolences as anyone else would; he just sat until it was Allegra who spoke on. ‘Or rather I just walked out.’

      ‘Can I ask why?’

      She hesitated, and then gave a tight shrug. ‘My boss, he…’ The blush on her cheeks said it all.

      ‘Not in your job description?’ Alex said, and she was relieved that he got it. ‘There are avenues for you… tribunals.’

      ‘I don’t want to go down that route,’ Allegra said. ‘I don’t want…’ She didn’t finish what she was saying, not quite comfortable to reveal who her family was, so she moved on without elaborating. ‘I thought I’d easily get another. It would СКАЧАТЬ