Page 23 of Incognito (Royally Reckless #1)

23

N atasha didn’t believe in coincidences.

So when she walked into Trevi’s and spotted Dante at a quiet table in the back corner, she wondered if sneaky Ella had played a trick on her.

Not in the mood to face his royal sexiness, or ponder the question of him targeting her deliberately for his final fling before settling down, she headed for the long, polished teak counter, determined to grab a mocha cappuccino to go.

“ Ciao , Natasha.” Luigi’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “Why is my favourite girl in such a hurry today? You no want to sit?”

Natasha fought a blush as Luigi’s bass voice boomed across the café and Dante’s head snapped up from the newspaper he’d been hiding behind.

“Actually, I have lots to do today, Luigi, so if I could grab a takeout cup—”

“Nonsense. You know that nice young man sitting over there, si ? The one pushing a chair out for you?” Luigi pointed straight at Dante and her heart sank as she realised she couldn’t ignore the prince no matter how much she wanted to make a run for it. “You go and chat while I bring your coffee.” Luigi made a chef’s kiss with his thumb and fingers. “And a double serve of tiramisu to share?”

Natasha shook her head, the thought of forcing a morsel of food down her throat making her nauseous, let alone sharing a dessert with Dante. She hadn’t been able to eat a thing this morning, her mind in a muddle from last night.

Her main problem should be Clay and clearing her debt, but Gina’s revelations kept popping into her head and she found herself pondering Dante’s motivations and the complete mess she’d made of her life without trying.

“Just the coffee, thanks, Luigi. And I will take it over there at his table.”

Luigi beamed and she walked to Dante’s table, basking in the appreciative once-over he gave to her favourite summer dress—a sunny yellow maxi dress scattered with tiny daisies—annoyed that she cared and surprised when he blanked his gaze as she drew nearer.

“You don’t mind if I join you?”

“Please sit.” He stood to pull out her chair further and as she slid into it she couldn’t help but inhale, savouring his citrus scent mingling with the rich aroma of coffee beans and vanilla in the air.

In that moment, realisation dawned. Despite being affronted by Gina’s implications last night about Dante using her for sex before settling down, she still harboured feelings for him.

Worse, she would miss him—his scent, his smile, his company, his attention—when he left. She would miss it all, and no matter how hard she tried to sugarcoat it, she knew Dante’s departure would leave her devastated.

When he remained silent, she searched his face, looking for the telltale crinkle of laugh lines around his eyes, the ever-present sparkle in their clear blue depths, the cheeky smile quick to appear at the slightest provocation.

Nothing. Expressionless, devoid of emotion, he stared at her with a forced, polite interest.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, trepidation tiptoeing across the back of her neck, raising her hackles.

“I am leaving today,” he said, his monotone sending a shiver of apprehension through her.

“You’re leaving?” Her voice came out an embarrassing squeak and she cleared her throat, hating her audible desperation.

“Yes.” He shrugged. “I’ve done what I set out to do.”

What the hell? All he’d done was coerce her into organising his nephew’s party, charm her into falling for him, before absconding earlier than planned?

She didn’t understand. Sure, he’d taken care of family business as he’d said at the start of the week, but what about the rest? What happened to his official duties?

If Dante didn’t stick around for business, where did that leave her?

Or more precisely, the hotel’s publicity she’d been depending on?

“What about our agreement?” She took a deep, steadying breath and blew it out to ease the tightness in her chest. “You said you’d help with the hotel publicity. I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, what about yours?”

Not a flicker of expression crossed his face. He looked like an automaton and she resisted the impulse to jump up and down, wave her arms in front of his face, and yell to elicit a reaction.

She wanted him to show some emotion, some recognition that he appreciated the week they’d spent together, chatting, laughing, cocooned in a special bubble, just the two of them.

“You will be suitably compensated,” he said, his cold, flat tone matching the frigid, lifeless aquamarine depths she’d once seen glitter with fire. “This should cover it.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and slid it across the table, his long, elegant fingers lingering over it while she stiffened in disbelief.

He was paying her off.

He drummed his fingers against the piece of paper that had to be a cheque, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at it.

“It’s that easy for you, isn’t it?” She swallowed, hating the way her voice shook, wishing her heart didn’t ache at the thought of him walking out of this café without a backward glance.

She could attribute the vice squeezing her heart to the thought of losing the hotel’s one-way ticket out of trouble, but she couldn’t lie to herself any longer.

She’d suffered through the indignity of discovering her relationship with Clay had been a sham perpetuated by a charlatan, and she’d been forced to tolerate his insane demands. Her broken heart and bruised ego had healed, but the thought of losing Dante sent an arrow of pain shooting through the organ she’d learned to protect more than life itself.

What an idiot, falling for yet another man totally wrong for her.

She hated to acknowledge that no matter how much self-talk she’d indulged in, she’d made the same mistake.

Again.

“Easy?” Dante’s brow puckered in confusion, as if he hadn’t understood her question. “You mean you think me leaving is easy?”

“Of course. What else could I mean?”

Easy for you to walk away without a backward glance?

Easy for you to flirt a little to get your own way?

Easy for you to make someone like me fall for someone like you?

At least her sarcastic response elicited a reaction out of him; if she could call the slight compressing of his lips a reaction.

Those same lips she’d experienced crushing hers in an all-too-brief, fake encounter she couldn’t forget. And as stupid as she felt falling for him, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to have those lips caress her with serious passion and intent.

“I thank you for your assistance this week. It has been invaluable, but it is time for me to move on.”

If he executed a snappy royal bow to accompany his polite head nod and stilted speech, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

As for ‘it’ and not ‘you’ being invaluable, she could quite easily tip a sachet of arsenic in place of sugar into his coffee for that little gem.

Feigning nonchalance while her heart broke, she shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the turnaround.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She should hold her tongue and let him walk away. But since when did she let a guy get away with anything?

She’d called Clay’s bluff, and though she had to eat humble pie with her ex for the sake of her family, Dante couldn’t do a thing to hurt her that he hadn’t done all ready.

She leaned forward and glared, trying to not to lose control of her fragile temper.

“I’m not surprised by this abrupt change in your plans. You were the laid-back, rebel prince one minute, schmoozing a pleb to get what you wanted, using money or power or whatever you have to get the job done. And now you’ve achieved your initial goal, you’re reverting to type. Nice.”

She should stop her character evaluation—assassination, more like it. His frigid stare would make the sassiest big mouth shut up, but unfortunately, she didn’t want to stop.

She needed to have her say. She needed closure, and knew without a doubt that by the time she’d finished telling his precious highness what she really thought of him, the Dante and Natasha interlude would be well and truly over.

His eyebrows arched. “Are you quite finished?”

“Actually, no. Bear with me for a moment while I tell you a story and then you can walk away.”

She didn’t expect him to stay. She expected him to push back his chair and stroll out of the café—and out of her life—without a care.

Instead, he folded his arms, his glacial expression not warming. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve met many people in my line of work over the years. Rockstars, film stars, VIPs, families, businessman, people from every walk of life. Working as a concierge this last week, I’ve had many interesting requests, including a guy requesting a hundred red roses to be delivered for his wedding anniversary, a media mogul requesting I buy a Porsche for his girlfriend and insisting it had a fuchsia ribbon tied in a bow around it, and a guy who asked me to organise a gondola ride down the Yarra for his girlfriend and a chalk artist to write ‘will you marry me?’ surrounded by love hearts for when they docked near Flinders Street Station.”

She’d been a tad envious at that one. Why couldn’t she find a guy who’d go all out to make her feel special?

Thankfully, Dante hadn’t bolted after her long spiel and she continued before he did.

“Those were all unique requests, things I managed to deliver without batting an eyelid, and then in walks a rebel prince. He’s nothing what I expected. In fact, this rebel prince is the antithesis of every preconceived royal idea I had in my head. Of course, he had an unusual request, to preserve his anonymity for a week. Being the good little concierge, I agreed, but you know the part I don’t understand?”

She’d sparked his interest, glimpsing a flicker of fire in those incredible eyes.

“What part don’t you understand?”

“The part where the prince masquerading as a pauper went a step further and established a friendship with me. He was fun to be with and he made me feel like I was an integral piece of his life even for a brief moment.”

He made me fall for him, to feel things I’ve never felt before.

He made me trust again.

He made me wish for a future no matter how far-fetched or unobtainable.

He made me want the fairytale happy ending.

Blinking back the sudden sting of tears, she said, “Then the prince goes cold on me. Says he’s leaving. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “If you ask me, that’s stranger than any of those other things I’ve had to deal with all week.”

Natasha sighed and leaned back, all out of puff. What had started out as an accusatory monologue had petered out to a pathetic cry for answers.

She scanned his face, knowing every angle as if she’d studied it her entire life. She saw the slight widening of his eyes, the tense jaw, and the flash of something akin to anguish cross his face.

That couldn’t be right. What did she expect, that he felt pain walking away after the meaningless week they’d shared?

As if.

“I don’t owe you any explanation,” he said, his stony expression unchanging, sending any faint hope that she might get closure plummeting.

“No, I guess you don’t.”

She glanced away, shame flooding her. What had possessed her to rave like that? The guy was a prince, for goodness sake. He wasn’t used to answering to anybody, so what made her think she was so special that he’d actually give her an explanation for his strange behaviour?

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

Dante pushed away from the table and inclined his head in her direction. She nodded back, aiming for the same politeness while her heart splintered into a million pieces.

He hesitated for a fraction and their gazes locked, hers inquiring and hopeful, his dark and unreadable, before he turned and walked out of her life.