Page 11 of Incognito

After Luigi left, Natasha shook her head. “I swear you must’ve come out flirting with the doctors when you were born.”

Ella shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk playing about her glossed mouth. “Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. Besides, the old guy loves it. And what better way to ensure we keep getting the best coffees this side of Carlton, huh?”

Natasha chuckled and took another mouth-watering sip of her mocha-coffee blend. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re changing the subject. Is there anything else about this prince I should know?” Ella took a healthy slurp of her latte and sighed with pleasure.

“No.”

Though Natasha couldn’t dispel the memory of Dante’s intense gaze as she handed over her card and he locked stares with her, those too-blue eyes holding more than a hint of challenge. “The prince will go about his business, I’ll go about mine.”

“Are we talking about funny business?” Ella winked again and Natasha rolled her eyes before burying her twitching smile behind her giant mug.

“No, I’m not interested, and besides, he’s a prince,” Natasha said, chuckling at Ella’s shenanigans despite herself.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

Natasha’s response had a hollow ring to it and she knew it. Because despite wanting to explain her bizarre exchange with Dante as meaning nothing, Dante wassomething.

Way too much something for her peace of mind.

“I’ll let you finish your mocha,” Ella said, smiling at Natasha like a co-conspirator, before spoiling the effect with, “I’m sure you’ll keep me posted about your stud-muffin prince.”

“He’s not my prince.”

As she muttered the refusal, she wondered why it left her disappointed.

6

Natasha had just stepped out of the shower and slipped into a fluffy purple bathrobe when her phone rang.

She considered ignoring it, as she had a date with the latest streaming thriller and a super-sized bowl of her favourite choc-fudge ice-cream.

However, it could be her dad calling from Perth and he’d worry if she didn’t answer.

Or it could be the prince.

She wavered for a few seconds, hoping for the former, knowing a quick glance at the phone’s screen would put her out of her misery. The phone continued to shrill its funky tune and she finally gave in, crossing the room and grabbing it out of her bag.

She didn’t know the number.

Tapping the answer button on the screen, she mustered her best phone voice, the one Ella said could scare an army into battle.

“Natasha Telford speaking.”

“Natasha, it’s Dante. I need your help. Urgently.”

She swallowed, surprised by the quick thrill of pleasure at the sound of his deep voice, annoyed that the movie and ice-cream would have to wait.

“What’s up?”

“I’m being followed. Can you meet me out the front of the hotel in two minutes?”

How crazy. What did he expect her to do? Pull some bad cop routine on his stalker, who would probably turn out to be some lovesick girl?

Shaking her head and wishing she’d never given him her private number, she said, “I’ll be there.”

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