Page 25 of Off-Limits To The Crown Prince

‘All that I do is for my country.’

‘Then what feeds the man’s soul?’

He walked to the windows of the palace overlooking his capital. The city, glittering in the late evening like a bright jewel. One entirely in his care. ‘The man doesn’t exist in isolation from the Prince. They’re one and the same.’

‘What about love?’

‘What about it?’

‘You could marry for that. Love’s not about duty.’

Alessio wheeled around. He knew this story, an age-old one. Love had no place in his life. He’d seen how it ate away, destroyed when one party stopped loving the other, or perhaps had never loved them in the first place. His parents’ relationship had been the best evidence of that. It inured him to ever seeking anything more for himself. If duty it was to be, then that would extend to his princess, who’d understand the constraints of royalty, the expectations of her role.

Sure he’d had promises before...of love, of adoration...all so a woman could get a crown on her head too. He could never be sure of anyone, whether they wanted the man, the money or his family’s name, especially after Allegra’s efforts. Better he found someone who knew what this was, a dynastic endeavour. Protecting his country from a vacuum, nothing more. In many ways Hannah was the same as others, accepting the exorbitant fee he’d offered her to paint his portrait. The suspicion overran him, needy and unfamiliar. Had he not been the Prince of Lasserno, would she have agreed to paint him with no complaints? Probably. And that was something he should never forget. Even though tonight, she had seen fit to protect him at her own expense.

‘And who would I find to love? You?’

Hannah’s eyes widened, and then she laughed in a mocking kind of way, as if what he’d said was ridiculous. ‘Me? That’s absurd.’

Which was not the answer he’d been expecting. He’d expected a shy glance, some fluttering of eyelids. A woman playing coy at the hint something more might be on offer. Any reaction other than suggestions of foolishness on his part.

‘Many women want to be a princess.’

‘When they’re little girls, perhaps. But I’m all grown up, and those kinds of dreams die when you realise that’s all they are. Silly, glitter-covered fantasies which tarnish as soon as you expose them to reality. I’m an artist. A commoner. We don’t marry princes.’

Had her dreams died with her parents? He wanted to rail against it. She should be allowed to have the fantasy she could be whatever she wanted. He couldn’t have that dream, but that didn’t mean the same was unavailable to her.

‘What feeds the woman’s soul?’

The flush ran over her cheeks. ‘My art consumes me. When I paint, nothing else exists. It’s all I’ve wanted for a long time. It’s enough.’

It sounded like an excuse.

‘You look like a princess. And tonight, at the table, you acted like a queen. No royalty I know would have done better.’

It was as if she’d protected one of her own, when no one apart from Stefano ever leapt to his defence, only tried to tear him down. The warm kernel of something lit in his chest. Bright, perfect. Overlaid with an intoxicating drumbeat down low. Desire that was dark, tempting and forbidden. Something to be taken care of by himself, on the rare occasion it afflicted him, or with a willing partner who knew what this was. A few hours of passion, nothing more.

Not with a woman he’d begun to crave with a kind of obsession.Neverthat.

A slow stain of colour crept up her throat. A gentle smile on her lips. The obvious pleasure in a compliment letting him know she was still a woman underneath all her talk otherwise.

‘Thank you. I’ll let you in on a secret. For a little while, I felt like one. The make-up, a pretty dress. Some exquisite jewellery that isn’t mine. It’s all smoke and mirrors really. But for one night, I’ll admit it was fun.’

She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the trappings that had her competing with royalty, but her demeanour. The way she had stood up to those who tried to cut her down. The way she had stood up for him...

‘What if for one night, it’s what we could have?’ The urgency of his need gripped him. The fantasy that he could have her for this moment. Every part of him began to prickle with anticipation, the hum of pleasure coursing through his blood. ‘If we could pretend that I’m simply a man, and you’re simply a woman.’

‘That you’re not the Prince of Lasserno? Are you asking me to grant your wish?’

A pulse beat at the base of her throat, an excited kind of fluttering that told him she wanted this too.

‘And I’d treat you like the princess that you are.’

Her pupils expanded, drowning the rockpool green of her eyes till the colour was a mere sliver. Her lips parted, as if the oxygen had been sucked from the room, and he sensed it too. The tightening of his chest as if he couldn’t fill his lungs.

She stood in front of him, glowing, beautiful in a way which evoked physical pain. He wanted her so badly he would drop to his knees and beg her like some supplicant so long as she granted him one evening, for both of them to lose themselves in the pretence they could be something other than who they were.

‘Bella?’Her blood-red toes curled into the carpet. He clenched his hands to fists so he wouldn’t reach out, touch. Take. ‘I will do nothing unless you say yes. The choice, it is yours alone. Stay, or go.’

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