Читать книгу Playing the Royal Game - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 7

‘SHE was chosen for me.’

She knew about arranged marriages, except she was rather surprised to hear that that might be a problem for him. He didn’t look like a man who would do anything he didn’t want to, and he was hardly a teenager. ‘How old are you?’ She said it without thinking and then winced at her own rudeness, realising he could guess at her thought process, but he gave a begrudging smile before answering.

‘Thirty-three.’ He even gave a half-laugh, gave her a glimpse of those beautiful white teeth, then he sighed. ‘And yes, completely able to make my own decisions. It is rather more complicated though. It would seem that my party time in London is over.’ He gave a shrug. ‘That is how my family see it. I have, in fact, been working, extremely hard, but it’s time, my parents tell me, to come back, to face duty.’ He drained his glass and refilled it. ‘To marry.’

‘Do you love her?’

‘It’s not a question of love, more that we are suited. Our parents are close—it was decided long ago.’ He tried to explain what he had been thinking about before she had entered the bar. ‘I am happy here in London. There are many things I still wish to do with the business.’

‘And you can’t once you’re married.’

‘Once married I must assume royal duties—full-time. Produce heirs…’ He saw her blink. ‘I’ve offended—’

‘Not at all,’ Allegra said. ‘I’ve just never heard it referred to as that—’producing heirs.’ The term’s usually ‘have children.’”

‘Not when you will one day be king.’

‘Oh.’ She seemed to be saying that an awful lot, but really, she had no idea what else to say. It was not exactly a world she could envision.

‘I am told I cannot put the official engagement off.’

‘Can’t you just end it?’ Allegra asked. ‘Just call it off?’

‘For what reason?’ Alex asked. ‘It would shame her if I said I simply did not want to marry her. She does not deserve that.’

‘Does it worry you?’ How utterly he intrigued her! ‘I mean, if you don’t love her, are you worried about…?’ She wanted him to fill in the word, but of course he did not. ‘Well, I do read the magazines. I might not have known you were a prince, but I do know the name, and if I remember rightly, you do have a bit of a reputation. Does it worry you settling down?’

‘Fidelity?’ He was so direct, so straight to the point, that she could not help but fidget. She scratched her temple and tried to think of a better way of wording it, but settled for a nod instead, to show him that was indeed her question. ‘That won’t be an issue—as long as I am discreet.’ She was far too expressive, because she screwed up her nose.

‘You’re walking into a marriage knowing you are going to be unfaithful….’

‘It’s a duty marriage. Anna has been chosen for she will one day make a most suitable queen. It is not about love,’ he explained, but her lips were pursed. ‘You don’t approve?’

‘No.’ It had been her champagne, he’d chosen to join her—she had every right to be honest, every right to give her opinion if he chose to sit here. ‘I don’t see the point in getting married if that’s how you feel.’ She was speaking from the heart—Allegra actually had very firm views on this. She adored her parents, but their rather unique interpretations of marriage vows had had her crying herself to sleep so many times growing up that, on this, she would not stay silent.

‘Our ways are different. I am not saying that I will…’ He never discussed such things, his family never discussed such things, but there were unspoken rules and his betrothed understood them. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. I am just talking, not asking for a solution.’

He watched as the pout was replaced by a very reluctant smile. ‘Touché,’ she said, and after a brief hesitation she nodded, perhaps ready to listen without judging now.

‘Our family is very much in the spotlight.’

‘Believe me, that part I do understand. I know all about families and spotlights,’ Allegra grumbled. And she told him—well, a little, but far more than she usually told another person. After all, if he was a prince then he had far more to lose from indiscretions than she. It actually wasn’t down to half a bottle of champagne or a handful of nuts and wasabi peas; it was simply the company, sitting in their little alcove, huddled together and putting the world to rights. It was a tiny pause before they headed back out there.

‘My family loves the drama. My sister Izzy was on a talent show…’ He had not a clue what she meant. ‘To find a pop star.’

Alex shook his head; he rarely watched television and if he did it was only to see the news. ‘Why would that impact on you?’

‘It’s not just Izzy. My dad used to play football in the Premiere League,’ she explained. ‘He’s like royalty here—except…’ She hesitated then looked into his eyes, saw his brief nod and knew she could go on. ‘It’s just one scandal after another. Last year there was an unauthorised biography published about him.’ He watched the colour swoosh up her cheeks. ‘It was terrible….’

‘Inaccurate?’

‘Yes,’ she attempted then shook her head. ‘No—it was pretty much all true, but you know how things can be twisted.’

‘Is that why you didn’t want to report your boss?’

He was way too perceptive, Allegra thought.

He was also right.

‘They’ve had a field day with the Jacksons recently.’ She told him about the scandals, about her mother, Julie, and the affair that her father had had with Lucinda, that he was now married to Chantelle, but still friendly with Julie. She talked about Angel, who was Chantelle’s daughter, and Izzy, who belonged to both Bobby and Chantelle. Allegra even had to get out a beer mat at one point and draw a little family tree. ‘The book made it all sound so grubby.’ She looked down at the beer mat, saw that perhaps it was. ‘It really hurt my dad—oh, he said it didn’t, did his usual ‘any publicity is good publicity’ spiel, but I know it upset him. I’m trying to put it right.’

‘How?’

‘I want to write an authorised one—I’ve started it actually. I’ve got loads of memories, hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures.’ He saw the flare of something he recognised in her eyes—that mixture of focus and passion that met him in the mirror each morning, the commitment that meant it was killing him to walk away from his work. ‘I want to set the record straight.’

‘Well, you’ve worked in publishing so you’ve got the right contacts,’ Alex said. ‘Write it.’

She laughed, as if it were that easy. ‘You’ve no idea how much work—’

‘You don’t have a job!’ He smiled but she shook her head; he simply didn’t get it—and why would he? It hurt too much to sit and talk about impossible dreams, so instead she asked about him.

‘What about your family tree? I’m sure it’s a lot less complicated than mine, a lot less scandal.’

‘Actually…’ He stopped then, for the most bizarre moment he had been about to tell her, about to speak about something that was completely forbidden, even within palace walls, especially within the palace walls—the constant rumour that his sister Sophia was possibly the result of an affair with a British architect. He looked to her green eyes staring out from beneath her heavy fringe and thought how nice it would have been to tell her, to admit as she so readily had, that his family might not be completely perfect.

‘It’s pretty straightforward,’ he said instead.

‘Lucky you.’ Allegra sighed. ‘I’m the boring, reliable one, of course. They won’t believe that I’ve lost my job.’ He watched her snap her eyes closed on panic. ‘If I don’t get a job soon I won’t be able to keep up my rent and I’ll end up back at Dad’s and be sucked back into the vortex.’ He did understand that feeling, her eyes told her that he did, for he leant over and his eyes held hers.

‘That is how I feel. That is why I don’t want to return just yet. I know that the moment I do…’

‘I know,’ Allegra said, and she spoke some more, except he was only half listening, his mind elsewhere. He looked to the table where he had sat just last week, with a man on the edge of his dreams who now lay cold in the ground, and he looked to the window and he saw the rain. He did not want to be lying there, cold with the rain and a life half lived, dreams undone. He wanted more for his business, wanted a couple more years before he returned to the fold—but how?

‘Can’t your brother do it?’ She pulled him from his introspection and she saw him frown. ‘If you don’t want to be king…’

‘I never said I did not want to be king,’ Alex corrected. ‘Just that I would like more time.’ He frowned at her. ‘Matteo and I have had different upbringings. Of course, were anything to happen to me, he would step in, but…’ He tried to explain it, for though he never expected her to understand, today he wanted her to. ‘You said earlier, that is how people feel at funerals… that people get upset…’

‘Of course,’ Allegra said. ‘Everyone does.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘When I was seven my grandmother died. The funeral was massive. At the cemetery…’ He did not really know why he was telling her this; he had not thought of this for years, but somehow he had to make her understand. ‘Matteo was upset, my mother hushed him, then my father picked him up—I remember because it was one of the pictures in the newspaper. I started to cry,’ Alex said. ‘Not a lot, but a little. The coffin was going down and I could hear my brother, and… I started to cry and my father gripped my hand and then he gripped it tighter.’ He took a breath. ‘He was not holding my hand in comfort.’

‘I’m not with you?’

‘When we got back to the palace, before the guests arrived, my father took me to the study and removed his belt.’ Alex wasn’t saying it for sympathy; it wasn’t a sob story she was being told. It was facts being delivered. ‘He said he would not stop till I stopped crying.’

‘You were a seven-year-old boy!’ She was the one who was appalled—not Alex.

‘I was a seven-year-old prince who would one day be king,’ Alex explained. ‘He had to teach me difficult lessons. A king does not cry, a king does not show emotion….’

‘You were a child.’

‘Who would one day be king,’ Alessandro said again. ‘And around and around the argument goes. You can despise him for it, but it was a lesson my father had to teach—which he did. He taught his firstborn son—perhaps he knew it was a tough lesson, for he gave my brother more rein at least till he was older. I have what it takes—I have been raised for this purpose.’

‘I’m not surprised you want more time.’ Allegra blew up her fringe. ‘Before you have to go back to—’

‘I could always fall in love.’ His voice halted her midsentence. ‘Our people know it is not a love match—Anna knows that too. Surely if I met someone and fell in love… there would be scandal, but it would blow over.’

Allegra looked to him. ‘Maybe you should try talking to Anna.’ She gestured to the table behind them, to the ladies that had been vying for time with him. ‘Maybe she’s the one…?’

That made him laugh.

‘I will not fall in love.’ He said it so assuredly. ‘I have no time for such things. But if I said that I had…’

There was a flag rising, an alarm bell ringing, but they were slow and in the distance because by the time she registered them, she had already spoken on.

‘Said that you had what?’

‘Fallen madly in love. That love had swept me off my feet, that I had become engaged.’ He indulged in a smile at the ridiculousness of the very thought. ‘Of course, in a few short weeks I would come to my senses and realise I had made a mistake, that my new fiancée and I are not suited after all, or more likely the people would strongly object. But by then it would be over between Anna and me, and my family would want me here, in London, at least for a year or two, till things had settled down.’

‘Well…’ Suddenly her throat was dry. ‘Good luck looking.’ She watched as he went to top up her glass, except the bottle was empty and he summoned the waitress but Allegra shook her head. ‘Not for me.’ She needed space, because her mind was bordering on the ridiculous. For a moment there she’d thought he was talking about her, that they were plotting together, that this might be real.

She excused herself and fled to the safety of the ladies’, told herself to calm down—except when she looked in the mirror her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes glittered in a way they never had before. Her fringe was stuck to her forehead from the rain and she blasted it under the hand dryer, then dabbed on some powder in an attempt to calm her complexion down.

Had he been suggesting that she…? Allegra halted herself there, because it was ridiculous to even entertain such a thought—yet… Who’d have thought when she stepped inside the bar, or when she had walked out of her job, that just a few hours later she’d be sharing a bottle of champagne with the Crown Prince of Santina.

She would have hid in the ladies’ for a little while longer, would have straightened out her thoughts before heading back out there, but a couple of the women Alex had been avoiding came in then and didn’t shoot her the most friendly of looks.

‘I said that I didn’t want any more champagne.’ The waitress was about to open another bottle when she returned.

‘Just leave it there unopened,’ Alessandro said to the waitress as Allegra sat down. ‘We might have something to celebrate later.’

‘Not with me you won’t,’ Allegra said.

‘We could just take it back to my—’

‘I think you’ve very much got the wrong impression of me,’ Allegra said primly, so primly she hoped he could not hazard a guess as to her suddenly wild thoughts, because she would love him to pick up that bottle, would love to dive into a taxi and be kissed all the way back to his place, to sit and drink champagne on a sheet rumpled by their lovemaking. God, but she’d had too much to drink and, mixed with this man, she was having trouble attempting rational thought. ‘Half a bottle of champagne and I’m well over my limit—and I don’t leave bars with men I’ve barely met.’

‘I was joking,’ Alex lied, for he had been hoping. ‘What about my other suggestion? Do you want to be my fiancée?’

‘Alex…’ Allegra said. ‘Why, when I didn’t even want to have a drink with you, do you think I’d even entertain—’

‘A million pounds.’

She laughed, because these things didn’t happen, and he had to be joking. When he pulled out a chequebook, she laughed even more, because it was crazy. Except when he handed it to her, his hand was completely steady and he wasn’t laughing.

‘You might not have to do anything. I will fly to Santina tomorrow and tell my family and Anna. The people will be outraged. Soon enough I’ll be told to reverse my foolish decision, to come back to London till the scandal dies down.’

‘So what are you paying me for?’

‘I can’t just invent someone—you might have to join me in Santina at some point.’ He anticipated her reaction, because as she opened her mouth he spoke over her. ‘You would have your own suite—a couple cannot be together until they are married. All you would have to do is smile and hang on to my every word.’

‘Until?’

‘Until the people dictate otherwise.’ He gave a shrug. ‘It might be days, it might be weeks.’ He looked to the cheque and so, too, did Allegra, and she thought about it—hell, she really thought about it. He wasn’t asking for her to sleep with him, just to smile and hold his hand. And what she could do with the money… She could get a flat, a job—actually, she could do what she really wanted….

‘You could finally write that book.’ It was as if he had stepped into her mind. She heard his voice as if he was inside it, but it was madness, it couldn’t work.

‘We’ll make it work,’ he answered her unvoiced words. ‘Is that a yes?’ Alex asked.

She looked back at him, thought not just of the book she could write but a link to this man, this beautiful man who had entered her life, and somehow she simply wasn’t quite ready to let go of him. ‘I think so.’

They stepped out onto the street, and she was wrong about taxis, for a luxurious car was waiting and it took them just a few streets down.

‘Shouldn’t you deposit it?’ Alex asked.

‘Okay.’ She grinned and walked into the bank and watched the eyebrow of the cashier rise a good inch. ‘Funds won’t be available till the cheque is cleared.’

‘Ring my bank and get it cleared now,’ Alex said, and she looked at the name on the cheque and did as told. There was the strangest feeling in her stomach as the cashier handed her a slip with her bank balance, a sort of great weight she hadn’t been aware she’d been carrying suddenly lifted.

‘Now, we shop.’

‘Shop?’

‘A fiancée needs a ring.’

They poured back into his car, laughed all the way along the street.

‘Shouldn’t I have royal jewels?’ God, she was tipsy.

‘You should, but…’ They were outside a very smart jewelers. ‘At least this you will be able to later sell. The acting starts here,’ he warned as he pushed a bell and the door opened. She stood there and looked at rings as the jeweler came out, and the acting did start here, because he held her hand as he spoke with jeweler, told them what he had in mind and they were whisked away, to view jewels kept well away from the window.

‘What about this?’ Alex turned to his fiancée but he had lost her attention, her eyes drawn not to the diamond ring he was holding, but to another that to Allegra was far more exquisite.

‘It’s heavenly.’ She picked it up—a brilliant emerald, so huge that it looked like a dress-up ring, but Alex shook his head.

‘Should be a diamond…’

‘Oh!’ She put it back down, remembered her place, that this was not real; she was merely playing a part. He put his head to her ear in a supposed romantic murmur. ‘Diamonds are more valuable.’

‘Perhaps.’

And he saw her longing for the ring, saw the moss of Santina in the jewel of her eyes. Perhaps an emerald would be more fitting and he hesitated for just a moment. After all, what did it matter? Soon it would be done, she would be gone, so she might as well have a ring to her liking.

He slid it on her finger.

‘We’ll size it,’ the jeweler said.

‘No need,’ Alex said. ‘It fits perfectly.’

‘I’ll give it a polish and box it,’ the jeweler said, but Alex’s hands were still holding hers, and they looked for all the world like a young couple in love, on the edge of their future, and she felt this wash of emotion for all that was not.

‘I don’t want to take it off,’ she admitted.

Allegra was confused and a little embarrassed to face him after he’d paid and they’d stepped outside.

‘Well done,’ Alex said. ‘You almost had even me convinced, though that is not the ring a future queen would choose.’

‘It’s heavenly.’

‘It’s yours,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you home.’

She gave his driver her address and of course they couldn’t discuss it in the car, so as they pulled up to her little flat and presumably because he was her fiancé, he saw her to her door, or rather the entrance on the street.

‘I’d rather you didn’t come up… it’s messy. I wasn’t expecting—’

‘I don’t care!’ He hushed her excuses.

He didn’t care and Allegra knew that—not about the mess in the flat, nor the chaos he was creating. Nor, she must remember, did he actually care about her.

‘What happens now?’

‘You write your book.’ Alex smiled. ‘I’ll fly to Santina in the next few days and break the news. I guess we should swap phone numbers.’

She tapped in his and when she had finished he picked up her hand and looked at the ring now on her finger. ‘It’s actually very beautiful.’ He looked more closely and then still held her hand and looked at her, saw she was suddenly nervous, perhaps regretting what she had done. ‘It really is just for a short while. Allegra, thank you.’

And she knew his kiss was coming. It was a kiss goodbye, a kiss to seal the deal, euphoria perhaps. It wasn’t just his smile that was dangerous, his kiss was too.

He lowered his head down and his mouth was warm and firm and just so absolutely expert. She breathed in his scent and she felt his lips and knew in a second he would end it. It was just a kiss to seal the deal, Allegra told herself.

He moved his head back, their lips parting, and she watched as he pressed his together, as if tasting her again. He smiled down at her, just a little, a warning smile, for he indulged again, lowered that noble head to hers. And it was a kiss called euphoria, she told herself, for it was not really her he was kissing, but a glimpse of the freedom he craved. And she kissed him back, because he made her weak, because the stroke of his tongue was completely sublime. He put his hand in the small of her back as if to steady her—and thank goodness he did, for if the previous kiss could have been covered by a handshake, then this one moved completely out of bounds.

His tongue was cool and his hand was warm, and when one hand would not do to hold her, when more than gravity was needed to anchor them to earth, he kissed her all the way to the wall. This dance of lips and hands in hair, two locked mouths and the strength of a wall to hold them up as he kissed her more thoroughly than she’d ever even dreamt of.

Heavens but it was thorough, so thorough that for decency’s sake it had to end. She looked up into eyes that were wicked, as if absolutely he knew what he’d do with her, all things she would never allow and it was imperative that she correct him.

‘What I said before about us not…’ She swallowed. ‘I meant it. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.’ With that kiss, she knew she just had. ‘I think I’ve had too much champagne….’

‘You’re a strange mix.’ His hand was still in her coat; he wanted to lift her jumper, slide his hand to her skin, but Alex was also sensible, very used to women falling in love with him. In a situation such as this one, that would never do. ‘You are right,’ he said, ‘it might confuse things.’