Page 17 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

Ilsa smiled. He might be hamming it up, but the effect was real. He was strong, attractive and potently masculine. Something deep inside stirred into life and it wasn’t another period cramp.

‘You’re probably brilliant, since I know you made your own fortune. But you’re not brash.’

Again he shrugged. ‘I’ve been told I’m rough around the edges.’

‘Really?’ She scanned his shoulders, his strong arms, then lifted her gaze back to his sculpted jaw and brilliant eyes. ‘I like what I see.’

His grin melted her bones and she was glad she was sitting. ‘Good.’ He paused. ‘But do you know my background?’

Ilsa shook her head. ‘I already knew your name, and that you’re Australian. But I didn’t do a comprehensive search.’

She’d intended to last night. It made sense to know about him before she embarked on an affair. But despite her elation she’d been tired and sore and had slept instead.

‘I wasn’t born rich, so my background is different.’

Noah saw puzzlement in her blue-grey eyes.

He was intrigued by how they changed colour. Last night in that sexy dress they’d looked blue. But when he touched her and sometimes when he caught her looking at him, they blazed silver grey and mysterious. He wanted to explore all her mysteries, find out what turned her on and all her secrets.

It was a far cry from the casual feelings he usually had for lovers.

She’s not your lover yet. Maybe she won’t be, when she hears who you really are.

Was that why he’d engineered this discussion? To check she wasn’t like Poppy?

But Poppy was eager to sleep with you. It was only when you naively wanted more—

‘Everyone’s background is different in some way,’ said the woman born in line to take a throne. ‘What?’ She’d caught his rueful smile.

Noah shook his head. ‘Some differences are more acceptable than others.’

There was no need to pursue this. But now he’d started, he wanted to see her reaction. He needed to be sure she wouldn’t get cold feet after he left and change her mind about meeting him in Istanbul.

‘Tell me about yours.’

He spread his shoulders in a shrug. ‘My family is fantastic, warm and funny. Very encouraging and supportive. I grew up happy.’ Long summer holidays playing cricket or going to the beach, until he was old enough to get a job and he’d started saving and planning.

‘You’re lucky.’

Ilsa smiled yet her tone made him wonder what it had been like growing up royal. Whatever she’d been through, he guessed it had taken a toll, though she was adept at hiding it.

‘I know I’m lucky. When you asked last night what I wanted out of life I realised I already have it. A happy life with my family around me.’ He was the first in his family to hit his thirties and not marry but his experience with Poppy had soured him on the idea. ‘I don’t want a wife and kids. Or even a long-term lover.’ He caught Ilsa’s gaze, making sure she understood the limits to what he offered. ‘I’ve got a large extended family and that’s enough.’

‘I understand.’ Ilsa’s tone was grave. ‘You’re not looking to start a family, just have some fun.’ Yet something about her tone scraped his nerves, a note he couldn’t identify. Then she continued. ‘So, how was your family different?’

‘My father and grandfather were garbos.’ He saw her confusion and continued. ‘That’s Australian for garbage collectors. The ones who ride the trucks and empty the bins. Though now, with mechanised lifts on the trucks, those jobs are largely gone and it’s mainly just driving.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

She tilted her head as if to view him better. ‘From your tone I’m waiting for something negative. Crime maybe. Violence?’

Was she serious? ‘The Carsons are law-abiding. Hardworking but not in jobs people aspire to. Members of my family don’t usually go to university.’ He’d thought of it but he’d been too busy working. Once his business had begun expanding and diversifying it had seemed irrelevant.

Still Ilsa only nodded.

‘Do you know where I started my business? Not trading shares or buying real estate, but with a clapped-out old truck, contracted to do a rural garbage run. Then another, and another. Clearly your online research wasn’t thorough. From time to time the press call meThe King of Trash.’

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