Page 21 of Royally Roma
But what if that person was a prince?
“Follow me,” she said.
She led him to a small stone alcove away from the open center of the arena. The gray walls dripped with moisture, and it was more of a cave than the quiet room he’d hoped for. But it would do. It would have to, he supposed.
“Thank you,” he said.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room for a bit. I’ll meet you back here shortly?” She blinked. The slow sweep of her eyelashes was almost enough to make Niccolo forget his disappearance had blossomed into an international incident.
He shouldn’t be this attracted to her. He absolutely shouldn’t. Half of the world’s most beautiful women were at his beck and call. Three quarters, possibly. An ardent American tour guide in Rome with a sharp tongue and penchant for retro scooters and polka dots shouldn’t elicit any sort of reaction in him, much less the visceral, dark pull he felt toward her. It defied logic.
But since when had sexual attraction ever been a logical beast?
She looked at home here in this ancient place. So earnest and passionate. She cared about its history. Truly cared. He wasn’t accustomed to such sincerity. It made his chest hurt for some odd reason. And the manner in which all that earnestness stood in such beguiling contrast to her pillowy, crimson lips was nothing short of torturous. A sinner’s mouth on the face of an angel.
It was enough to make a man forget he was a breath away from being the ruler of an entire country.
He gripped his cell phone, a very real, very tangible reminder of where he should be at this moment. Not here. Anywhere but here. “Very well.”
In the palm of his hand, his phone vibrated yet again.
“See you, Mano.” She gave him a little wave before exiting the alcove and rejoining the crowd. Faster than he could blink, she vanished from sight.
He felt her departure like a loss, and the heat that had been building inside him all morning smoldered into something darker. Catastrophic.
He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. His head throbbed as he scrolled through the latest list of missed calls and texts. Everyone was looking for him. The head of the royal security detail, his father’s private secretary, the concierge of the Hotel de Russie.
Even after swimming in one Bloody Mary after another, he’d known disappearing would have repercussions. But this level of scrutiny was more intense than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t like he’d snuck past a royal guard and climbed out the window of the palace or anything. He’d walked right out of the hotel piazza.
He’d gone away with a pretty woman. It was something that Cassian had done countless times.
It was in that precise moment that Niccolo knew with absolute certainty that he’d done something abominable—when he’d begun comparing his own behavior to Cassian’s.
AM I BORING YOU?
The words had been right there, on the tip of Julia’s tongue. She hadn’t let them loose, of course. Mano was a client. She’d already pushed the boundaries of acceptable professional behavior, teasing him as she had.
But it had been so fun. And fun hadn’t been a fixture in Julia’s life for a while. A long while.
This isn’t about fun. This is about work.
She checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror, tucked her lipstick back into her backpack and chastised herself for getting distracted. She couldn’t afford distractions. Even the sort of distractions that made her acutely aware of how long it had been since she’d been kissed.Especiallythose sort of distractions.
Besides, they weren’t exactly having a ball anymore, were they? The tour seemed to have come to a screeching halt, with Mano checking his phone every few minutes and scowling at anyone who came within five feet of them.
And now he was tucked away in a cave talking on his cell. She wondered what could possibly be so urgent. He was on holiday, after all.
Perhaps it was a woman. Yes, that had to be it. He seemed just the type to have an urgent woman problem. She rolled her eyes at her reflection and pretended not to notice the unexpected and utterly irrational stab of jealousy she felt like a thorn in her side.
She was better than this. She would not hole up in the ladies’ room worrying about what was going on with her overdressed, overly annoying, overly virile client. She had other clients to think about anyway. At least she hoped she did. The last time she’d talked to the booking agent at the touring company, there was nothing on the schedule for the next two days. As nice as a forty-eight-hour respite might be, it just wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to stay caught up on her bills and also enjoy the luxury of three meals a day.
She glanced at her watch. Mano was probably finished with his call by now. She should find her way back to him and resume the tour. His “quiet place” was on the other side of the building, right by the front entrance. There was no telling how long it would take to get back over there. Mornings were madness at the Colosseum.
Then again, he’d been awfully vague about how much time he needed to wrap up his urgent matter. She likely had time to make a quick call to the touring company to check and see if she was booked for tomorrow.
She reached for her cell and immediately noticed a missed call notification from When in Rome. Excellent.
The booking agent answered on the first ring. “When in Rome.Buongiorno.”
