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‘Maybe not, but it’s my name.’
‘Are you so angry with your parents that you would even want to disavow your connection to the royal family?’
Her face drained of colour. ‘I’d prefer not to discuss it.’
‘That’s a shame, as we have nothing but time ahead of us.’
‘A week,’ she said, thinking of how much she had to achieve in six or seven days. Could she change his mind in that time? Could she convince him to let her go? It wasn’t long, and yet, with the two of them, it might turn out to be an eternity. Already she felt her nerves stretching well past breaking point.
‘Tell me how you know my brother,’ she invited, surprised that her voice could emerge so calm when her insides were fluttering.
‘We met a long time ago.’ His answer was short, his gaze direct, yet he was holding so much back, she couldn’t help but laugh.
‘That’s funny?’
‘No, but how assiduously you’re trying not to answer my question is.’
It was clear that Benedetto was not a man used to being called out. He glowered for a moment before something like a smile flickered on his face, like lightning way out on the horizon, so quick and breathtakingly bright that you could almost swear you’d imagined it.
‘We met through a mutual friend when I was in my twenties. Younger even than you,’ he drawled, as if to remind them both of the age gap between them.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Which was how many years ago?’
‘Twelve.’ He moved closer, lifting a hand to her face on the pretence—and it was most definitely a pretence—of tucking hair behind her ear, to contain it in defiance of the light sea breeze. ‘I am thirty-six, Princess.’
Her stomach rolled with the power of these conflicting emotions. Desire warred with frustration, and fear. She wasn’t a princess, she wanted to scream, even when she knew she could never proclaim that to another soul.
‘Older than Anton,’ she murmured.
His eyes flashed with hers. ‘And too old for you.’
‘And yet you’re touching me.’
‘Haven’t we already covered that?’ he responded, but dropped his hand, so she could have kicked herself for even bringing it up. She glanced away, buying time to assume an expression of calm.
‘How come I haven’t met you?’ she pushed, but he didn’t answer immediately, instead gesturing to the table across the deck from them. Amelia eyed it, her stomach giving a little growl as she remembered that she’d been starving moments earlier.
‘Happenstance,’ he said non-committally. ‘I’ve been to Catarno a couple of times. I’ve met your parents, your brother. You weren’t at home.’
She considered that. ‘Uni, perhaps.’
‘Or with friends.’
She heard the veiled criticism and bristled. She’d gone to a few high-profile parties in her first year at university and from that moment on she’d been dubbed the Playgirl Princess. On the one hand, she’d been pleased to see that the treatment often meted out to young, single male royals was being dispensed to her—because gender shouldn’t determine such things. On the other, it had been spectacularly unfair. In reality, Amelia had worked hard at her studies and had been a member of the track and polo teams, competing at a high level for both. If she’d missed seeing Benedetto, it had probably been because she’d had a meet.
There was no point explaining that to him though. It was all too apparent he’d made up his mind about her. It pained Amelia to imagine how Anton must speak and think of her, for Benedetto to have formed such a particular dislike.
‘Why are you so loyal to him?’
He held out a seat for her, their eyes sparking as she moved towards it. She sat, ignoring the way his hands brushed her shoulders as if by accident, and the way her body responded immediately. How was it that a single touch could unsettle her so completely?
‘You don’t think he deserves it?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
Benedetto took the seat opposite, his long legs brushing hers beneath the table. Another accident? Her hand shook as she reached for her water glass, glad to take a sip to dilute the whisky flavour in her mouth.
‘I’m just curious,’ she continued after a moment in which he didn’t speak, ‘as to why you’d owe him such an allegiance that you’d consider committing a criminal offence.’
