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Santina's Scandalous Princess(23)

By:Kate Hewitt


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Natalia stared out at the darkness dropping like a velvet curtain all  around them. Far below she could see a few twinkling lights, perhaps  from a pleasure yacht cruising on the Mediterranean. She felt bizarrely  unsettled and excited at the same time. Talking to Ben had energised her  in a way nothing else had or could. Scared her too. She wasn't used to  telling anybody … well, anything. At least, anything important.

And yet in the space of a few minutes she'd told Ben secrets no one else  knew, like her fear of the dark. Why she courted the press. What was it  about this man, Natalia wondered, that made her want to spill her  secrets? Be known?

‘You didn't actually tell me where we're going,' she said, determined to  keep the conversation light. Impersonal. Surely that was what Ben  wanted too.

‘Rome.'

‘Very nice. What restaurant?'

‘Il Pagliaccio, on via dei Banchi.'

Natalia nodded. She knew it to be sophisticated, elegant and discreet.  She leaned forward to gaze out at the sweep of sea below them, now  barely visible in the darkness of night. ‘So you keep a plane on the  island? Is that how you get back and forth from London?'

‘Generally.'

‘How long are you going to stay on Santina? It must be difficult to be away from work for so long.'

‘I telecommute, but no, it's not ideal. I'll stay till the end of the camp, wrap a few things up and then head back to London.'

So a couple of more weeks at most. Natalia felt an icy plunging  sensation in her stomach, and realised it was disappointment. How  ridiculous. She didn't even like Ben Jackson … except she couldn't really  say that any more, could she? She was certainly attracted to him. And  she was afraid she might feel even more than that. There was something  so steady about Ben, so strong and true. She trusted him … perhaps even  with her secrets.                      
      
          



      

She glanced over at him, his gaze steady on the sky, his hands relaxed  on the controls. She let her gaze wander over the strong line of his  jaw, the powerful curve of his shoulder, the crisp whiteness of his  shirt emphasising the tanned column of his throat. He was a beautiful  man, she thought with a throb of desire. She wanted to run her fingers  along his jaw, loosen that tie and undo the buttons of his shirt, spread  her hands along the taut, warm skin of his bare chest …  .

With a gulp Natalia turned away to stare blindly out the window. How was  she going to get through this evening without touching him?

‘Just a few more minutes,' Ben said, jerking her from her dazed thoughts, and she managed a smile and a stiff nod.

‘Wonderful.'

A chauffeured limousine was waiting for them at the airport. Ben placed a  hand low on Natalia's back as he guided her into the car. She could  feel the heat of his fingers through the thin fabric of her dress, felt  her body's basic and instinctive response to that gentle pressure. This  was, she thought with a flutter of panic, going to be a very long  evening.

A different kind of anxiety assailed her as they entered the elegant  interior of Il Pagliaccio. What did these clients of Ben's know about  her? What had they read-and what had they believed? She swallowed drily,  suddenly feeling sick. She didn't want to be the party princess any  more. She wanted to be someone else-someone she'd never dared let  herself be.

Herself.

Yet did she really even know who that was any more? ‘Natalia?' Ben  touched her shoulder, his eyes shadowed with concern. ‘Are you all  right?'

‘Yes, of course.' She forced herself to give him one of her usual flirty smiles. ‘Why wouldn't I be?'

‘Because you're looking like you're about to face your own execution,'  Ben said drily. ‘I thought this kind of thing was right up your alley.'

Of course he did. And it was. Hadn't she made sure it was? Hadn't she  made that choice years ago, when she realised she could be enslaved to  the press and their vicious mockery or embrace it? She'd had a choice.  She'd made it. Surely it was far too late for regrets. It was far too  late to want to be someone else-or want someone to believe you were  someone else. Someone real.

‘I'm fine,' Natalia said firmly, and with a coolly challenging smile she  swept past Ben into the dining room. She hadn't been sure what to  expect of Ben's clients, but they were all charming, urbane men who  treated Natalia with both deference and respect. She saw one or two eye  her speculatively on occasion, obviously wondering just how much of what  they'd read was true. Natalia didn't give them a chance to find out.  She listened when they spoke, laughed when they told jokes and behaved  with gracious aplomb throughout the entire evening. She played the  princess, and it was exhausting.

Life had always been a performance; she understood and accepted that.  Act like you know the answer. Act like you don't care. Act like you  think someone is interesting or attractive or funny. Act. Act. Act.

What happened when she didn't want to act any more? When the curtain  came down, and the mask came off? What happened, Natalia thought even as  she smiled and listened and laughed, when she stopped acting?

She didn't have an answer, and the not knowing exhausted her as much as  anything else. Scared her too. As their main courses were cleared, she  excused herself from the table and went to find a few minutes' solitude  in the ladies'.

The room was blessedly empty and Natalia powdered her nose and refreshed  her lipstick, touching up her hair and makeup with easy expertise. She  was adding some mascara to her eyelash when she caught an unguarded  glimpse of herself in the mirror from the corner of her eye, and she  felt as if she'd just seen a stranger, someone she'd never met. Herself.

Slowly she lowered the mascara wand and stared at her own face. On the  surface it was, of course, completely recognisable. She looked good.  Pretty, maybe even beautiful. Her eyes glinted and her mouth curved in  her trademark, mocking smile. Princess Natalia. The Party Princess. Then  she blinked, and her smile disappeared, and she was left with a face  she didn't know. A face with wide, sad eyes and a mouth that trembled  with uncertainty. The face of the person she

really was … whomever that woman turned out to be.

Did anyone really want to find out? Did she? Did Ben?

Two women, chatting loudly in Italian, came into the room and quickly  Natalia capped her mascara, gave them a fleeting smile and hurried out.

In the narrow corridor that led back to the main restaurant a man was  leaning against the wall. Natalia assumed he was talking on his mobile,  and she murmured her excuse as she brushed past him. He grabbed her  elbow.                      
      
          



      

She stiffened, turned and recognised one of the men from this evening.  Brian, the one who had eyed her so speculatively. She felt a twist of  disappointment; this evening wasn't going to be any different. She  wasn't different. She couldn't be.

‘Your Highness … '

She gave him a freezing stare. ‘Excuse me,' she said with haughty politeness, ‘but I believe you are holding my elbow.'

He looked both startled and apologetic and to Natalia's relief he let  go, but he didn't move and she couldn't get by without squeezing past  him. She stared him down as coldly as she could.

‘I just wondered, Your Highness … ' he slurred, clearly more than a little  drunk. ‘I heard you like sailing and I have a sweet little yacht you  might like to see … if you know what I mean.'

‘Don't believe everything you read in the papers, Brian,' Natalia said  coolly. She knew he was referring to a ridiculous article about a  three-day orgy she'd supposedly indulged in on a yacht last summer. The  reality had been far tamer, and frankly rather boring.

‘I just thought … ' he mumbled, starting to blush. Natalia almost took pity on him.

‘Don't embarrass yourself any further,' she advised, and started to move  past him. Her hip nudged his and yet something else caused a bolt of  awareness to electrify her like lightning, rooting her to the spot,  freezing her senses. She looked up and saw Ben blocking the entrance to  the corridor, his expression completely and dangerously unreadable.





CHAPTER NINE

BEN wasn't prepared for the blaze of jealousy that fired through him at  the sight of Natalia standing so close to his client, their heads bent  together, their lips mere inches apart. Clearly they were having a cozy  tête-à-tête, he thought savagely. Perhaps they were planning to meet up  later for a drink-or more. A lot more. Natalia would give Ben one of her  sly smiles and slip away from him, as insubstantial as smoke, as  trustworthy as a broken promise. And then she'd leave with Brian. The  thoughts raced through his mind, exploded like fireworks, obliterating  all rational thought.