Page 21 of Off-Limits To The Crown Prince

She walked over to the two men. ‘Is there a problem?’

Alessio smiled, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes. Fake. A mask and nothing more.

‘There appears to have been an error. You’ve been seated next to me.’

She was supposed to sit with Stefano tonight, but a beat of something a lot like anticipation thrummed through her at the thought of being by Alessio’s side. Still, she understood the impossibility of her desire and what wasnotbeing said. Alessio appearing with a woman would invite speculation which a deeply private man like him would despise.

Hannah pasted on her own fake smile. ‘I’ll change tables, then.’

‘Changing tables means changing place cards and will invite more gossip.’

He turned and spoke in Italian to the worried-looking man still hovering in the doorway between the hall and where the dinner would be held. When Alessio finished, the man sagged a fraction and bowed a final time, before hurrying inside the ballroom.

‘Come,’ Alessio said to her. ‘People know we’re here. It’s time to go in.’

‘What did you say to him?’

‘That wherever we’re placed is suitable, but Stefano would miss your presence at his table.’

‘Will he?’

There was something inscrutable about the way he looked at her.

‘Any man would.’

The pleasure at those words slid through her with the potency of a shot of spirits. A sensation all too intoxicating to be good for her, so she tried to ignore it. Hannah moved into position and Stefano took her arm, given he’d walk her inside, but Alessio in front held all her attention. He was entirely changed, the metamorphosis into Lasserno’s ruler complete. Strength and stability radiated from him like a beacon. Solid. Uncompromising. And yet behind the mask of his public persona, she still glimpsed the true man simmering underneath. He carried himself with an unnatural stiffness, and a tightness around the eyes suggested he wasn’t entirely happy in this new skin.

The master of ceremonies announced something to the assembled guests she couldn’t understand. The noise of chairs scraping back interrupted the murmurs from the room. A hush descended as everyone waited. Alessio’s shoulders rose then fell as if he took a deep breath, then with a straightening of his spine he stepped forward through the doorway as she and Stefano followed. Her eyes adjusted to the brighter lights of the room and she gasped at the sparkling chandeliers, towering floral decorations and gleaming silver candelabras adorning the opulent ballroom. About fifty people stood round tables scattered through the space and every face was turned to Alessio as he waited at the top of the stairs, allowing the assembled guests to take their fill of him, their Crown Prince, and his most honoured guest. It was a dizzying sensation to realise there were a hundred eyes on them as he made his way down the sweeping marble staircase into the room, a leader of his nation in all ways. Arresting and intoxicating.

As they walked through the room Hannah touched her necklace again, almost as a reflex. The curdle of something like fear slithered in her belly but the jewels reminded her that she had a place here tonight. They moved through tables to their seat and people stared and whispered as she passed. When they reached their table, Stefano pulled out her chair.

‘I’ll see you later, Hannah,’ he murmured. It was said quietly enough to seem private, loud enough to pique people’s interest. The game of deflection had begun. She merely smiled. Ignored everyone’s curious stares as she sat and accepted a glass of champagne from the waiter, thanking the man who poured it for her.

‘Ladies, gentlemen.’ The table descended into silence as Alessio spoke. ‘I’m pleased to introduce Signorina Hannah Barrington. My portrait artist, who has taken two weeks from her hectic schedule to be here before returning to England.’

It was a statement of intent. One she understood, but something about it left her feeling deflated, like a leftover balloon from a long-forgotten party. Alessio named the people at the table for her benefit. Counts, countesses, the Prime Minister and his wife. Lasserno’s aristocracy. The country’sWho’s Who.

A few people nodded with interest or stared as if in disbelief at the position she held, sitting to Alessio’s left. She could understand why. He was a man in his prime. Available, a prince. Who wouldn’t want to be her? They must know he was looking for a bride. Did they assume she was in the running? Her throat tightened and she took a sip of her champagne, the bright bubbles sparkling on her tongue and slipping too easily down her throat. Surely everyone here knew he was looking for a princess? And yet as she watched the other guests’ open looks of avarice, she realised this dinner held all the danger of picking her way through a room filled with broken glass in bare feet.

She steeled her spine. Whatever these people might think, they were all wrong and she’d show them. Alessio had to deal with this every day and Hannah couldn’t imagine how wearing it must be. She glanced at him now, making easy conversation with the Prime Minister.

‘How do you find His Highness’s hospitality?’ asked a man in a uniform festooned with medals. She didn’t like the supercilious way his brow rose when he spoke to her.

Still, her place at this table wasn’t to make trouble but to smooth it over. Hannah smiled. ‘His Highness is a gracious host, as one would expect.’

‘Are you spending much time in his presence?’ The corner of the man’s mouth turned up in a smirk. ‘For research purposes, of course.’

People near them began to watch the exchange, whilst Alessio seemed engrossed in his own conversation. Around the table the air vibrated with tension, a warning. This question was a kind of trap, but she wouldn’t fall into it, because no matter how strong and uncompromising he seemed, Hannah realised that Alessio needed shielding. All these people were vultures waiting for others to hunt down their prey and then pick over the carcass left.

She refused to be their victim.

‘He’s managed to fit me into his hectic schedule.’

The man’s smile in response appeared knowing, when he really had no clue. ‘I’msurehe has.’

Those words carried a weight and meaning everyone sitting at the table would understand. She pretended to be oblivious. To rise above it, since innocence was her weapon.

‘Enough to sketch and make the studies I need for the coronation portrait.’

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