Santina's Scandalous Princess(12)

Alone in his office Ben took the newspaper and scanned the  front  page article once more. It was just as infuriating upon the second   reading. The Santina family exploits, he saw, took up most of the  tabloid's  pages. Alessandro and Allegra's engagement took second  place to other, more  salacious events. Princess Sophia, apparently,  had eloped to India with a

maharajah. Carlotta, the disgraced single mum, was now in the company of   some jilted prince. And Natalia had had the gall to accuse his  family of bad  behaviour!

He glanced at the photo of him and Natalia in front of the wine  bar.  It looked all too much like some kind of lovers' embrace. His arm was   snugged around her waist, her head upon his shoulder. And the other  photo … a  carefully angled picture of them standing close together at  the restaurant, with  the accompanying caption: Charity Work a Cover  for Natalia's Next Conquest?

Disgust and anger roiled in his stomach and he threw the  newspaper  down again. She'd planned it all perfectly, and played him for a   complete fool.

A light knock sounded on the door, and then Natalia poked her  head  in, a small smile playing around her mouth, her eyebrows arched. Was she   actually smirking? Ben rose from his desk.

‘Come in,' he said coldly. ‘And shut the door behind you.'

‘Ooh, somebody didn't sleep well,' Natalia remarked as she  closed the door and came to stand in front of his desk.

‘You aren't wearing your T-shirt,' Ben said, knowing it was  probably  the most inane thing he could have said but unable to keep from   noticing. She wore a slim black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse,  standard  office wear, and yet somehow on her it looked as sexy and  inappropriate as a  black lace negligee. He could not keep his gaze  from roving down those endless  legs encased in sheer black tights,  ending in high black stiletto heels. The  skirt emphasised the  perfect curve of her hip and thigh, and she'd left the  white blouse  unbuttoned at the throat, a silver pendant nestling in the shadowy,   golden V between her breasts.

‘I had to have it washed,' Natalia told him. ‘So if it really  is required uniform, perhaps you could find a spare?'

He nodded tersely, not wanting to dwell on it or how enticing  she  looked in the clothes she'd chosen to wear. He shouldn't have brought it  up  in the first place. ‘Tell me, Natalia, how is it that in  twenty-four hours  you've managed to put this entire enterprise into  complete disarray?'

‘Natural talent, I suppose.'

Ben planted his fists on his desk and leaned forward. ‘Do you   realise,' he demanded, ‘how much harm your stupid little ploy has  caused?'

Natalia blinked, surprise flashing across her features at the   restrained fury in his tone. Then her face cleared of all expression  except  perhaps boredom. ‘Which stupid little ploy,' she drawled,  ‘are you referring  to?'                      
      
          



      

‘You didn't read the papers this morning?'

‘I make a point never to look at them.'

‘How surprising. I would have thought you'd enjoy such an  exercise.'

‘Just more proof of how little you know me.'

‘What I know,' Ben gritted, ‘is your little plan to take my   employees out to lunch and then trip all over me worked admirably. The  press  have sunk their teeth into the story and are claiming the only  reason I'm  sponsoring this sports camp is as a cover to get into  your bed.'

‘How ridiculous,' she scoffed. ‘Surely there's an easier way to  get into my bed.'

For a split second Ben once again had the bizarre sense that  she was  putting herself down on purpose, and he felt his anger drain away. He   realized he was overreacting, and he knew it was because of his own  experiences  with the press. Still he could not get the bitter taste  out of his mouth, the  sickening feeling of being used and  manipulated simply for the sake of a  photograph. ‘Read that,' he  said, thrusting a paper into her hands.

She took it, glancing down at it without seeming to

really read it. After a few seconds she tossed it back onto the desk.  ‘All  of it drivel. Just ignore it. It's just a trashy tabloid  anyway.'

‘Did you read it?' Ben demanded,  and she blinked.

‘I scanned it.'

‘Did you see the accusations they were making against the  camp?'

She lifted one slender shoulder in an aggravatingly dismissive  shrug. ‘It's just gossip.'

‘Which you obviously don't care about,' Ben snapped, ‘based on  how  heavily you're featured in these rags. I know you court the tabloids,   Princess. You make sure they get all the photos they want of you at  all your  high-flying parties.' She said nothing, only lifted her  chin in challenge, which  infuriated him all the more. ‘I read an  astonishingly thorough exposé of an  affair you had with some  Frenchman,' he drawled, ‘including rather intimate  details you were  clearly happy to provide.'

She stilled, and Ben had an odd sense that she'd somehow  retreated  from him even though she hadn't moved. ‘You've really done your   research, Ben,' she said with a cool little smile. ‘I'm so impressed.'

‘Trust me, it didn't take much. Just pick up a paper.'

‘You've made your point.'

Ben sighed, raking a hand through his hair. ‘My point, Natalia,  is  that I run a respectable business, with sensitive, high-profile clients  who  come to me for discreet financial advice. This kind of exposure  is exactly what  I don't want and can't have.'

‘Then maybe you shouldn't have asked me to volunteer.'

‘Maybe I shouldn't have,' Ben agreed. He'd thought he could  handle  the press, handle her, but right now he felt like he couldn't. He felt   like he was spinning out of control, and not just because of the  press. Because  of her.

‘So,' Natalia said, ‘is that it? You lasted one day with  me?'

‘Not a chance, Princess. I never lose a bet.'

‘Just your temper.'

He glanced down at the papers again, felt a stirring of regret.  ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have become so angry.'

‘You must be used to this kind of thing,' Natalia said,  gesturing to  the paper. ‘Your family is always featured in the tabloids back in   England.' He knew it all too well. ‘I've worked very hard to make sure  I'm not featured in-'

‘Which is exactly why you're so annoyed that you got dragged in  this  time,' she finished curtly. ‘Shall I shed a tear? Now you know how it   feels.'

He'd been dragged in before, and he hated it, but he wasn't  about to  tell Natalia that. ‘Are you saying you don't go after that kind of   publicity? That you're innocent?'

‘Is that so hard to believe?'

‘You know your own history-'                      
      
          



      

‘Better than you do.'

‘You're saying none of what the tabloids print is true?' Ben   demanded. He watched her flush, and with a jolt of regret he realised  he'd hurt  her.

‘Not all of it is true,' she said stiffly. ‘And in this  instance,  no, I didn't plan it all. Really, you give me far too much credit. I   took everyone out to lunch yesterday to be nice. End  of story. And  when we were coming out of the wine bar I tripped. You saw my  broken  heel yourself. The press jumped all over it as they always do, and they   made it look as naughty as they could.' Her lush lips curved in a  brittle smile.  ‘Really, I wouldn't expect anything less.'

Ben stared at her. Even though she was effecting a careless,  relaxed  pose, he suspected that's all it was. A pose. He sensed a deeper,  darker  sea of emotions churning underneath. Disappointment. Hurt.  Fear. Anger too-and  he didn't know if it was directed at him, the  press or maybe even the whole  world. If she hated the tabloid  coverage, he wondered, why on earth did she go  out of her way to get  it? Granting interviews. Posing for photos. Waving at the  cameras.  He'd assumed she enjoyed the notoriety.

Now he wondered. Was Natalia just pretending-and why? It was a  question he didn't really feel like examining … or answering.

He straightened, raking his hands through his hair before  dropping  them to his sides. ‘I'm sorry,' he said quietly. ‘I see now that I   overreacted a bit because I hate the press.'