Page 15 of Incognito

He shouldn’t have kissed Natasha.

He knew that.

She knew that.

But he’d gone ahead and done it anyway, giving her some lousy excuse about using her as his girlfriend to put that crazy jerk who’d been following him off the track.

He’d had it all worked out: get her to meet him out the front of the hotel, slip a casual arm around her shoulders, give her aquick peck on the cheek, and stroll to the nearest café like they’d intended on meeting all along.

Instead, the moment he caught sight of her, all fresh-faced and righteously indignant, his plans for a quick peck took on a life of their own and he’d swept her into his arms before he could think twice.

At least the ruse had worked.

But at what cost?

He’d sensed a connection between Natasha and her ex, some unfinished business. Unresolved feelings perhaps?

If he’d jeopardised something for her, he should feel bad. Instead, the thought of that supercilious creep anywhere near the petite brunette made him want to order a royal head-lopping—if they still went in for that sort of thing in the twenty-first century.

The jerk had been rude, arrogant, and condescending, and he couldn’t see a feisty woman like Natasha putting up with him.

Then again, what did he know about women? His sister Gina was driving him mad, and his mother would have him married off the second he set foot back on Calida.

Speaking of Gina, the way Natasha had handled the situation earlier could make her the perfect candidate for what he had in mind.

After what happened earlier today, he couldn’t handle Gina and her idiosyncrasies alone, that much was clear.

He needed the help of a woman, a very astute woman who could handle anything, and more.

Thankfully, Natasha could be just the woman he needed.

9

Natasha sipped her takeout mocha cappuccino and strode towards Telford Towers, pride lending a spring to her step. With the early morning sun tipping the sandstone turrets in pale gold, the cloudless blue sky framing the impressive façade, and the gleaming windows, the hotel looked incredible.

It looked like home.

The only home she’d ever known.

But for how much longer?

She took another gulp of coffee, knowing the bitter aftertaste had nothing to do with caffeine and everything to do with Clay and his treachery.

The sooner she made the final two payments and got her scumbag ex out of their lives for good, the sooner she could rest easy.

Seeing Clay yesterday had resurrected too many painful memories of how gullible and stupid she’d been to fall for his glib lines and good looks.

But her disquiet had more to do with how Dante looked at her, like she must be dense to have associated with a creep like Clay, than lousy memories. She didn’t like looking a fool. She wanted Dante to view her as cool, collected, and capable.Otherwise, he’d be disinclined to promote her hotel once this week was over, and then she’d be in real trouble.

She cursed fate when she learned the truth about Clay and their mock engagement, and it looked like fate still liked to grab hold of her leg and yank, hard. Pity she couldn’t laugh, even if the joke was on her.

Finishing off the last of the cappuccino, she tossed the mug in the trash and headed for the front of the hotel. She had five minutes before her shift started and wanted to have a quick chat with the night concierge about an ornery guest during handover.

“Can I have a word?” Dante stepped from the shadows of an ornate column near the hotel’s entrance and she had no option but to stop. Either that or alienate her last chance to save the hotel.

“Sure, but I don’t have long,” she said, fixing a polite smile on her face, hoping her surprise didn’t show.

For royalty, this guy had the casual thing down-pat. Dark denim, khaki T-shirt, sneakers. Throw in the mussed hair and designer stubble and he looked like he’d just strolled in from a dawn sail on the bay. Wind-ruffled, tousled, and sexy. Very, very sexy.

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