Page 4 of Incognito (Royally Reckless #1)

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D ante glanced around the cosy bar, surprised by the homey feel. He’d travelled the world, stayed in the best hotels, and sampled the finest luxuries money could buy, yet something about this place tugged at him.

The mahogany coffee tables and bar covering an entire back wall, deep comfy arm chairs, muted light from brass lamps, and the scattering of antiques were nothing out of the ordinary, yet together, they created an ambience that beckoned like the privacy of his room at the palace at the end of a long day.

This bar exuded intimacy, the comfort he’d expect from a private living room, not a hotel lobby bar, and it welcomed like his sitting room back home.

Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to create this effect, to offer travellers a home-away-from-home. Someone with taste, good business nous, and a keen sense of what it felt like to belong.

At that moment, Natasha walked into the bar, and his penchant for admiring the décor evaporated.

She looked incredible, and he smiled as he waved her over, mesmerised by the sway of her hips in poured-on denim, the way the lamplight highlighted toffee tints in her hair, and how her overall outfit combined sassy casual with innate elegance. Though he guessed that had more to do with the woman inside the clothes than the garments themselves.

Natasha Telford, quite simply, took his breath away.

Now he only hoped she had an open mind to go along with his plan.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, rising to his feet and pulling out her chair.

“No problem.” She inclined her head in thanks and sat, gesturing to a waiter behind the bar. “What would you like?”

“Espresso, please.” And a healthy dose of her co-operation .

“Make that two,” she said, smiling at the waiter in a way that made his pulse roar.

Why couldn’t she give him one of those smiles? Had she been romantically involved with the waiter?

Dante studied her carefully, watching for flushed cheeks, a coy expression, a change in body language, but he came up blank. Instead, while he’d been making irrational judgements, it looked like she’d been studying him just as intently.

By the frown marring her brow, he’d come up lacking.

“What did you want to discuss?” She asked, sounding less than impressed.

She sat ramrod straight, her hands clasped firmly in her lap, her expression determined, and Dante had a sneaking suspicion his plan would hit a major snag; in the form of one beautiful wet blanket.

“I need your help.”

“So you said earlier.”

Her caustic tone didn’t inspire confidence and he continued, choosing his words carefully.

“My visit to your country is multi-faceted. Official duties, fostering foreign relations, and catching up with family. As you know, my personal assistant made the booking, so everyone is aware I will be staying at your hotel and for how long. What they don’t know is that I’ve arrived on schedule, assumed a different identity, and will have my PA call to say I’ve been delayed by a week. So during this week, I wish to remain anonymous.”

“Why didn’t you let me know your need for anonymity when you booked?”

Good question; he just couldn’t give her an honest answer. How could he explain to a woman he barely knew that the spur of the moment decision had as much to do with a desperate need to escape as his desire to spend time with a nephew he’d hardly seen?

“My extra week here is impromptu and I need some timeout from my duties.”

She raised an eyebrow, a delicate gesture that made him smile. Natasha came across as a vision of feminine loveliness… with a backbone of steel beneath.

“I see.” By the frown creasing her brow, he seriously doubted that. “You’re here for family reasons?”

“Uh-huh.”

If only it were that simple.

“What happens if someone recognises you?” Her eyes narrowed as they swept over him, coolly assessing. “Won’t that scuttle your plan?”

“I’m sure you did your research like most people do when hosting royalty, and I look very different from my offical portraits. And you’ll find that dressed like this,” he gestured at his casual clothes, “I blend in.”

He only just heard her mutter, “That’s debatable,” and he bit back a smile. Good to know she found him palatable.

“Why don’t you have more of an online presence?” She asked, the spark of intelligence in her steady gaze as attractive as the rest of her.

“Calida is a tiny municipality. We have existed for centuries without an influx if tourists, and my mother prefers to keep it that way.”

“But what about paparazzi when you travel? Don’t they want to photograph a playboy prince?”

Her admired her persistence, but the playboy tag when she didn’t know him irked.

“Like this trip, I often travel incognito. I enjoy the luxury of a normal life it affords me.” He shrugged. “When entrusted with business duties, I play my part and am photographed. Otherwise, I am just an ordinary man, which is why I want to spend time with my family for the first leg of this trip.”

He pinned her with a stare that made things happen. “That’s why I need you to accommodate my wish in remaining anonymous for the next week.”

Natasha sat back in the armchair and fixed the prince with a suspicious glare, wondering if he thought she was completely stupid.

Guys like him didn’t flit around countries trying to hide their identity for family reasons. They did the cloak and dagger thing for mistresses, or whatever the name was for their hidden love interests.

The prince must have a secret lover, someone he didn’t want the press to get wind of, and that had to be the real reason behind this elaborate farce.

Whatever his rationale, it was none of her business. As long as he revealed his identity at the end of the week, she’d still get the much-needed publicity boost for the Towers.

And after agreeing to play along with his sneaky highness, she had every intention of milking his royal presence for every cent he was worth.

“You don’t look too impressed?”

Silently cursing her expressive face, Natasha said, “What you do in the next week is no concern of mine.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

The arrival of their espressos put paid to the questions raging through her brain and she waited until they were alone again to continue.

“I don’t understand.”

“You are the only person who knows my real identity and I want it to stay that way. It is imperative. Do I make myself clear?”

She stared at him in open-mouthed shock. Who did he think he was, talking down to her like that?

Then again, he was a prince and obviously used to ordering people around. Not to mention the guy who would get her family’s business out of crisis.

She’d bite her tongue. For now.

“Perfectly clear,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee, enjoying the caffeine rush and trying not to notice the way his long, tanned fingers wrapped around the glass mug with ease, as if they were made to hold things… caress things…

“Good.” He stared at her over the rim of his mug, those blue eyes capturing her attention and making it impossible to look away no matter how much she wanted to. “How long have you been a concierge?”

His question came out of left field, though she should be grateful. With his probing stare, she’d half expected something more personal.

“Less than a week.”

He lowered his mug, surprise etched across his handsome face. “By your surname, I assumed you were part of the Telford family and held the job for a long time. Maybe I’ve entrusted my secret to the wrong person?”

“Relax,” she said, with her first genuine smile since they first met.

No matter how laidback his highness seemed, this secrecy thing was getting to him. She could see it in the sudden tensing of his shoulders, his rigid neck, his clenched fingers. His mistress must be some woman for him to go to these lengths to protect her identity.

“My father runs Telford Towers and I’ve worked here since I could walk. Our concierge is away for the next twelve weeks on sick leave so I’m filling in for seven days until his temporary replacement starts next week. Does that allay your fears that I’m experienced enough?”

He nodded and visibly relaxed, placing his mug on the table between them and leaning back in his chair. “What do you usually do here?”

“Everything.”

From ensuring the hotel ran smoothly to mediating staff disputes to pampering VIPs, she did it all. She loved everything about this place, had always loved it. Being a part of Telford Towers came as naturally to her as breathing and she couldn’t let it slip away.

Especially when the entire mess with Clay had been her fault.

“Such as?”

She should’ve been flattered by Dante’s interest but she wasn’t a fool. Now that he had her here, he wanted to know every last thing about the only person who knew his little secret. He probably still didn’t trust her.

“I’m my father’s right hand woman. After I graduated with an MBA, I joined him in the everyday running of the Towers. Whatever needs to be done, I do it.”

His eyes widened, the admiration in his steady blue gaze warming her from the inside out. “Is it only the two of you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Admitting it ripped through her, reopening old wounds. Would her mother have survived the heart attack without the added stress Clay had brought upon them? Would she have to spend the rest of her life harbouring the unspeakable guilt that she had contributed to her mother’s death as well as potentially ruining the family?

“You should be proud. You and your father have done a marvellous job. This hotel is wonderful. This is wonderful.”

He threw his arms wide in a dramatic gesture characteristic of his Italian heritage and she managed a tiny smile, when in reality she felt like bolting to the sanctity of her room and bawling her eyes out. Memories of her mother always made her feel like crying.

“Did you hire a designer to create this room?”

Natasha shook her head, a burst of pride making her sit up straighter and she quelled the urge to sniffle. “I did it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I wanted to create a home away from home for weary travellers. It’s the type of room I’d like to spend time in if I was stuck in a hotel miles away from everything familiar.”

Excitement filled her, and she marvelled at the sudden change. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything other intense, draining responsibility: she’d made a major mess of everything and she had to clean it up.

Every day used to bring joy as she accomplished tasks, yet the last year had brought nothing but guilt, recrimination, and a weary resignation for a job she used to love wholeheartedly.

But that was all about to change. Starting with the prince sitting in front of her, if he agreed to help.

“You’ve captured the exact feeling I had when I first sat here,” he said, glancing around the room with an appreciative gleam in his eyes, before his gaze came to rest on her. “You’re a very talented woman.”

“Thank you.”

She blushed, an annoying surge of heat that probably made her look like a sideshow clown. Somehow, his simple compliment meant more to her than all the accolades she’d received in the hotel business.

She must be in a soppy mood. Time to escape before she did something silly, like beg him to launch the Towers next ad campaign; or grovel in the hope he would book out the presidential suite for the next decade. Both would be financial boons and either option would get them out of trouble.

Making an obvious show of glancing at her watch, she said, “If our meeting here is over, I really must go.”

The cheeky glint in his eyes faded. “Ah yes, your secret assignation.”

That was his game, not hers. Thankfully, she bit back that retort. “Nothing too secret about meeting my best friend for our daily catch up at our favourite trattoria.”

She could’ve sworn she saw relief in his eyes before his super-sexy smile drew her attention. “You meet your friend every day?”

She nodded, knowing she would never have survived the last few years without brash, exuberant Ella, the sweetest, loyal friend a girl could wish for. The two of them had met through Telford Towers, when Ella had moved into one of the apartments five years ago.

The Dastardly Duo, her mum had called them. Natasha preferred dynamic duo because that’s how great Ella made her feel; her best friend was reliable and loads of fun, and it seemed like too long since she’d had any.

“Yeah, catching up daily keeps us sane. Nothing better than unwinding over a latte at the end of a hard day.”

“You are lucky.” He shrugged, a simple, eloquent gesture that spoke volumes when combined with the wistful tone in his voice.

At that precise moment, Natasha could’ve sworn the prince sounded lonely.

“I know, I’m lucky to have her. Now, I’m sorry, but I must dash.” She stood, eager to put distance between them before she leaned over and gave him a comforting hug. He looked like he needed one.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. And for agreeing to assist with that other matter.” He stood and gave a strange, little formal bow which made her want to giggle considering his bad-boy outfit.

Guys with day-old stubble, unruly hair, and faded denim didn’t bow. They rode motorbikes and broke hearts.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me,” she said, out of habit as she grabbed her purse.

Not that his sneaky highness would need anything more from her. She’d bet he had his whole week planned out, starting with a rendezvous with the royal mistress.

“How do you propose I do that?”

She halted, surprised by the hint of urgency in his voice. “Uh… you can contact me through reception.”

His sceptical look implied he knew she’d just given him the brush-off.

Though it wouldn’t be smart getting her walking-talking-promotional-dream off-side this early. She needed to appear a tad friendlier, more approachable.

She rifled through her purse and handed him a business card. “Or rather than going through reception, you can contact me on that number if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Natasha returned his polite smile, unable to shake the deep-seated niggle that there was more to the prince’s charade than met the eye—and she’d just handed him an easy way to involve her in it.