Santina's Scandalous Princess(11)

‘I should go,' she said abruptly, the sudden urgency she felt to escape coming through in her tone. Ben quirked one eyebrow.

‘It's only a little after eight. The night is young.'

‘I have other plans,' Natalia told him, a blatant lie but one she  managed with breezy confidence. ‘My social calendar is quite full, you  know.'

He straightened in his seat, his eyes narrowing now not with speculation  but, Natalia suspected, with disapproval or even disdain. Well, at  least that was more familiar. She stood, and a waiter hurried to her  side.

‘Your Highness … ?'

‘My coat, please.'

Ben stood as well. ‘I'll drive you home.'

‘There's no need. I can text my driver-'

‘And bring him out for no good reason? Why do that?' And she heard-or at  least thought she heard-a thread of judgement in his voice. She'd do  that because she didn't care about other people. She didn't think about  them or their needs. She was selfish, shallow, vain-everything the  tabloids said she was. Of course.

‘Fine.' Natalia glanced at the table, their three-thousand-dollar bottle  of champagne only half finished. ‘I'll wait for you to settle up.'

‘Oh, don't worry, Princess. They know who I am here.' And he strolled  past her with a smile, clearly relishing her surprise and discomfort at  hearing her own words laughingly parroted back to her.

Snatching her coat from the waiter, silently fuming at the way he always  seemed to best her, Natalia followed Ben out to the street. Her heel  caught on a tile in the doorway of the restaurant, and as she pitched  forward Ben's arm came around her instinctively, supporting her and  drawing her to him so her breasts collided with his hard chest, her own  arm coming up around his shoulders in an attempt to steady herself. And  yet even as she regained her balance her heart tumbled inside her as if  she'd just fallen down a whole flight of stairs.

She breathed in the scent of him, woodsy and clean, and felt the lean  strength of his body pressed against her own. Her senses exploded to  life with longing, and her breath hitched revealingly as she remained  half wrapped around him and stars exploded around her.

No, not stars, just the relentless flash of the paparazzi's cameras. A  half-dozen of them had been camped outside of the restaurant, waiting  for her exit.

Natalia felt Ben's calm, capable hands steady her and then he stepped  away, his face expressionless, yet underneath that purposeful blandness  she sensed he was now seething with anger. She felt it like the pulse of  her own blood, hot and demanding. She'd just given him some major, and  undoubtedly unwanted, publicity.

He strode down the street, away from the flashing cameras, and she  followed as best she could, hobbling a little bit. The paparazzi hurried  after them, shouting questions in both Italian and English.                      
      
          



      

‘Who is your boy toy now, Princess?'

‘Give us a kiss!'

Ben strode faster, suddenly turning a corner onto a dark and narrow side  street, and breathless Natalia tried to keep up. ‘Wait-'

‘You want to stay for that?' he asked in a sneer. ‘Of course you do.  That kind of publicity stunt is right up your alley, Princess.'

So he thought she'd tripped on purpose, for the cameras. It didn't  really surprise her, yet it still hurt. ‘I just,' she panted, ‘want to  keep from breaking my ankle. My heel broke when I tripped.'

Ben glanced back at her, then ducked into an alley between two tall and  crumbling buildings. Natalia could barely see, and she tripped over some  old terracotta pots piled against the wall. They clattered onto the  cobbles, the sound echoing off the high walls. She blinked, the darkness  pressing close all around her, making her palms damp and her heart  thud. She hated the dark, especially unlit, enclosed spaces like this  wretched alley. ‘Where … where are we going?'

‘I don't want any more pictures,' Ben growled. ‘So if you think this  next month is your chance to drag me through the gutter press, think  again, Princess.'

She heard the sound of motorcycles speeding off into the distance. ‘I  think we lost them.' Her voice sounded high and frightened to her own  ears, and the thought that Ben might guess how scared she was made her  furious. Another thing for him to mock her about. ‘Anyway, didn't you  say any publicity is good publicity?' she reminded him defiantly.

Ben turned so quickly she nearly lost her balance. He prowled closer,  the strength and breadth of him both intimidating and overwhelming in  this dark, narrow alley. She'd been scared of the dark; now she was  frightened of something else. Or not frightened exactly, but aware.  Definitely aware.

The stone wall of the building came up hard against her back, and Ben  was so close she had to tilt her head up to look at him. She could  barely see his face in the darkness and gloom, but she still felt his  anger.

And something else-for whatever was pulsing between them was powerful,  dangerous and impossible to resist. He stepped closer, so she could feel  the length of his body against her own, heard the thunder of her heart  in her ears and the ragged tear of both of their breathing, unnaturally  loud in the enclosed space. He dipped his head so his lips hovered above  her own. Desire spiralled inside her, crazy and out of control even  though he hadn't even kissed her.

But he would … wouldn't he? Her mind was dizzy, overcome by his closeness.  All she could think about was the feel of his lips on hers, the need of  it. Her head fell back, her lips parted in silent, open invitation.

‘Don't play games with me, Princess,' Ben breathed, and his lips were so  close if she moved at all she would be touching him. Kissing him. Yet  she didn't move, couldn't, because her body was frozen, paralysed with  this helpless yearning. She remained pinned against the wall, her head  tilted back, her lips open, her body pulsing with need. She wanted him  to move. She wanted him to kiss her.

And he almost did. She felt it in him, that inexorable craving, and knew  he was about to cover his mouth with her own. She was already dizzily  imagining it, longing for it-and then he stepped away.

His breath came in a ragged rush and Natalia slumped against the wall,  her legs as weak and wobbly as a newborn colt's. ‘They've gone now,' he  said flatly. ‘Let's get out of here.'

Silently Natalia followed him out of the dark alley, her body trembling  with aftershocks of emotion, her lips stinging as if he'd actually  kissed her.





CHAPTER FIVE

‘THE Truth Behind Jackson Sports Camps,' Ben read aloud.  His staff  shifted uneasily in front of him, their eyes downcast. ‘Princess  Natalia's New Toy Boy,' he continued, his  voice gaining a definite  edge. He threw the newspaper down on his desk, the  movement one of  disgust if not dismissal. He was furious with the press, with   Natalia, and most of all with himself for allowing this to happen. His   charitable enterprise was being dragged through the mud before the  first day of  camp. Exactly the kind of thing he avoided at all  costs. The kind of tawdry  publicity he despised.

Why on earth had he gone out for a drink with Natalia Santina?  He'd  surely known what the risks were, and yet he'd gone and done it anyway.   Recklessly. Stupidly. And he knew why, even if he didn't like the  reason.                      
      
          



      

Because he wanted her.

He wanted her physically, had been so close to kissing her last   night he'd almost tasted the sweetness of her lips, better than any  champagne  they could have drunk. His hands had ached to slide along  the lush curves  encased in that tight little skirt, slip beneath the  snug T-shirt and touch the  warm golden skin underneath.

He'd never wanted a woman so much, felt desire so painfully,  and yet  that wasn't what infuriated him. It was the other, more dangerous   wanting. He wanted to believe there was more to her than the shallow,   party-going princess. Wanted to trust those glimpses of raw  vulnerability and  courage. Wanted more.

And there was more to her, he  thought grimly. She was a vindictive,  selfish bitch as well. He'd asked her out  for a simple drink, and  she'd used the opportunity-and him-shamelessly. He  glanced up at his  three employees. ‘If the press rings, tell them we have no  comment  and the camp will go ahead as planned. And,' he finished, his voice   sharpening, ‘when Natalia arrives, tell her to see me immediately.' They  nodded,  and with a jerk of his head he dismissed them.