The Forbidden Prince

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS ONE of the things that Mika loved about Italian villages—that she could rock up to a place like this, in shorts and a singlet top, probably looking as weary and in need of a shower as she felt, and still be welcomed with a smile and gestures that suggested they had been waiting for her arrival.

The change when Raoul entered the restaurant behind her was subtle but unmistakable. Instead of a welcome guest, Mika suddenly felt like a...a princess?

‘This way, sir, please; this is the best seat in the house. And you’re lucky. You get to catch the last of this magnificent sunset.’

The whole wall of the restaurant was glass and the building seemed to be perched on the side of the mountain. It was the same view they’d had from the top of the Footpath of the Gods, only now the Mediterranean was on fire with red and gold light, and the islands way up the coast were dark, mysterious humps. It was a similar drop over a cliff right beside them, too, with no more than a low, railed fence outside the window and a roof or two of houses well below on the steep slope.

The slight quirk of Rafe’s eyebrow along with the expression in those dark eyes was remarkably eloquent. He wanted to know if she was okay to be sitting, overlooking the drop. He would be more than happy to forgo the view if she wasn’t and he would request a change without embarrassing her by referring to her recent disability in public.

It made Mika feel even more like a princess.

No. It made her feel the same way that taking hold of his hand on the track had made her feel.

Protected.

Safe.

She had to clear her throat to get rid of an odd lumpy sensation before she spoke.

‘This is gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Perfect.’

The white linen tablecloth was more of a worry than the view, in fact. Along with the silver cutlery, and the way their host flicked open a huge napkin and let it drape over her bare legs told Mika that this was nothing like the café she currently worked in. Was it going to be horrendously expensive? She remembered those nice boots Rafe was wearing. How well he spoke English when his accent advertised that it wasn’t his first language. How the maître d’ had instantly recognised somebody that deserved respect. Mika suspected that Rafe had come from a far more privileged background than hers. He was probably quite used to eating in restaurants that had linen tablecloths and silver cutlery.

Thank goodness she’d been paid yesterday.

‘I will bring you the menu,’ the maître d’ said, reaching out to light the candle on their table. ‘For drinks, also? We have a wide selection of the finest wines.’

It was Mika’s turn to raise an eyebrow in Rafe’s direction. At least, that was what she intended to do, but as soon as her gaze met his she completely forgot and found herself smiling instead. Was he as amused by this as she was? Here they were, looking like scruffy tourists, and they were being offered a selection of the finest wines.

‘A glass of your house red, perhaps,’ Rafe said.

‘I’ll have a beer, please,’ Mika added. ‘A really cold lager.’

With a nod, their waiter turned away. Mika glanced back at Rafe and this time her eyebrows did rise. He looked as though he was assessing something important. Something to do with herself? His face looked quite serious as he turned his head.

‘Excuse me,’ he called. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Can you bring me a beer, too, please?’

It was a bit silly to feel so pleased about a simple change of drinks but it was as if Rafe was sealing their friendship in some way. Telling her that he liked her choice and was prepared to follow it.

She liked him, she decided. It was a bit disconcerting that merely his presence could alter an atmosphere in a room, as if he had an aura of some invisible power, but she didn’t feel threatened by him in any way. Quite the opposite—and that was probably as disconcerting as how ridiculously good-looking that glow from the sunset through the window was making him seem.

Nobody was that perfect.

To cover the tumble of thoughts she had no intention of exploring, Mika opened her bag to take out her camera.

‘I’ve got to get a photo of this sunset,’ she told Rafe. ‘How stunning is that?’

‘It’s amazing,’ he agreed. ‘I bet we could see as far as Capri in the day time.’

Mika wished she’d read more of the instruction booklet for her camera last night. She had to hope the settings were appropriate for the level of contrast out there.

‘Nice camera,’ Rafe said when she’d finished snapping.

‘I know.’ Mika sighed happily. ‘It’s a Nikon D4. Sixteen-point-two megapixels. It’s my new baby,’ she added quietly. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this.’ The first step to a new career. A new life.

‘You’re keen on photography?’

‘Mmm.’ Mika was scrolling through the photos she’d just taken. The dream of becoming a travel writer and supplying great photos to accompany her stories was too new and private to share. ‘Look...’ She tilted the screen of the camera towards Rafe. ‘These are the ones I took of the monastery on the way up the mountain.’

He leaned forward and reached out to hold the other side of the camera as she kept scrolling.

‘These are great. I just stopped long enough to look at the view but you’ve captured so much more. That close-up of the stonework in the arch... And that hand-painted sign: Convento San Domenico,’ he read aloud. ‘Sentiero Degli Dei.’

‘Ah...you’ve walked our famous path.’ The waiter delivered tall, frosty glasses filled with amber liquid. ‘Sentiero Degli Dei—Footpath of the Gods. It is beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘An experience I will remember for ever,’ Mika answered truthfully.

Was the touch of Rafe’s foot against hers under the table accidental? No. Judging by the gleam of mirth in his eyes, he was sharing a private understanding that the experience was not what the waiter might be assuming. It had been the lightest of touches...how come she could feel it all the way up her leg? Into an almost forgotten spot deep in her belly, even.

Mika put her camera down to pick up the menu that had come with the drinks. ‘At least I got some good photos before it hit me. And I have my notes.’

‘You took notes? What kind of notes?’

Oh, help... Mika had spotted the prices beside some of the dishes, like the pesce del giorno. Had they sent out their own boat to select the best fish the Mediterranean had to offer?

‘Um, oh, interesting things. Like, there’s a bit of confusion over whether that’s a monastery or a convent. The church, Santa Maria a Castro, was there first. It was donated to the Dominican Friars in 1599 and they were the ones who built the convent. And...um...’ She turned a page in the menu, distracted by the rumbling in her stomach. ‘What are you going to have to eat?’

‘Do you like pizza?’

‘Of course.’ Mika bit her lip. Did he really want to eat street food when there was so much more on offer? Or was he choosing the least expensive option because she had revealed too much when she’d said she’d waited a long time to get her flash camera? Had he guessed that she’d had to put so much effort into saving up for it? She could feel herself prickling defensively. She didn’t need looking after financially. She didn’t need looking after at all, in fact. Today had been an anomaly and it wasn’t going to happen again.

‘It goes with beer,’ Rafe said smoothly. ‘And they’re usually so big I don’t think I could eat one on my own.’ He shrugged. ‘I just thought that maybe we could share. How about this one? It’s got wild mushrooms, asparagus, caramelised onion and scamorza. Do you know what scamorza is?’

‘It’s a cheese. Similar to mozzarella.’

‘Sounds delicious.’

It did. And suddenly it was what Mika wanted to eat more than anything else on the menu. That the shared meal would be so affordable was merely a bonus.

Were they being watched by the staff? That might explain why—despite other tables being occupied—Rafe only had to glance up to have the waiter coming to take their order. But Mika couldn’t help the feeling that this man was used to having control of his life. That he was one of that golden breed of people for whom things happened easily.

He had a problem now, though, didn’t he?

He’d lost everything, she reminded herself.

And it was her fault.

* * *

Raoul could feel himself relaxing.

There’d been a moment when he’d thought the game was up because the maître d’ had recognised him when he’d followed Mika into this small restaurant, but it seemed that it had simply been deference to his being Mika’s male companion—an outdated assumption that he was in charge?

Whatever. It wasn’t lost on Raoul that being in Mika’s company, with people assuming they were a couple, was actually a layer of going incognito that he could never achieve on his own. Not that he would ever use someone like that, but it was an unexpected bonus. Like her company. Not only was she so easy to talk to, but every new snippet he was learning about her was adding to an impression that he was with a rather extraordinary person.

He didn’t even have to say anything to communicate with her. Just a glance from those dark eyes, that seemed too big for the small face that framed them, had been enough to answer his concern that she might not want to sit beside a window that looked out over the kind of drop that had triggered her vertigo. The deliberate nudge of her foot had rewarded him with another glance and that one had cemented a bond. They were the only people in the world who knew about Mika’s unfortunate experience up on that mountain track and it was going to stay that way. As far as anyone else was concerned, the journey would be memorable for ever because of the extraordinary view or the accomplishment of a not inconsiderable physical challenge.

How often did you find somebody that you could communicate with like that?

He’d seen it—between people like his grandparents, for instance—but they’d been together for decades and adored each other.

He and Mika were complete strangers.

Although, that strangeness was wearing off with every passing minute as he got to know more about her.

He’d glimpsed a dream by the way she handled that camera and a note in her voice when she’d told him that owning it had been a long time coming. Was she planning a new career as a photographer, perhaps? He already knew how determined she was by the way she’d handled her desperation at being in the clutches of vertigo, so he was quite confident that she would find a way to achieve any dreams she had.

Weirdly, it made him feel proud of her...

He’d also seen her pride. He’d deliberately searched for the least expensive item on the menu because it was obvious that Mika didn’t have unlimited funds. He’d picked up on that, when she’d said she had waited a long time to own that precious camera, as easily as he’d been able to absorb communication from a glance. And he’d seen the way she’d reacted. It had reminded him of that curious little creature he’d come across for the first time when he’d been at his English boarding school—a hedgehog that curled itself into a ball to protect itself so that all you could see were prickles.

But Mika had relaxed again now. And she could eat... There was real pleasure to be found in the company of a female who actually tackled food like a boy. There was no picking at a low-calorie salad for Mika. She was attacking her big slices of pizza with so much enthusiasm, she had a big streak of tomato sauce on one cheek.

This was so different from anything he’d ever experienced. The only note of familiarity was the offer of the best table the restaurant had to offer—and another table would have been found, of course, for the discreet security personnel who were never far away. Photographers would have been shut outside for the moment but his female companion would have excused herself possibly more than once, to make sure she was ready for them later, to touch up her make-up and check that there were no stains on the figure-hugging evening gown she was wearing.

Imagining any of those elegant women he’d dined with in the past with food on her face made it virtually impossible to hide a smile. Raoul also had to resist the urge to reach out and wipe it clean with his napkin. Or maybe just his thumb. He could imagine how the prickles would appear again if he did, though. He already knew Mika quite well enough to know that she would not appreciate being treated like a child.

‘It’s good, isn’t it?’

‘So good.’ Mika eyed the remaining slices of the pizza but reached for her beer first. She frowned at Raoul when she put her glass down. ‘What’s funny?’

The smile had escaped. ‘You’ve got a moustache.’

‘Oh...’ With the back of her hand, Mika erased the foam above her lip. The gesture captured the streak of tomato sauce as well. ‘Better?’

‘Mmm.’ But Raoul was still smiling. He’d never sat a table with a woman who would use her hand rather than a napkin and it was quite possible he’d never enjoyed a meal quite this much, either.

‘Tell me more about this OE you’re on... Do you have an itinerary?’

‘Not really. I find a place and a job and work until I’ve saved enough to go somewhere else. I’ll be here for a while longer after investing in that camera, but it’s a good job and I love it here, so that’s okay.’

‘What’s your job?’

‘I’m in hospo.’

Raoul blinked. Maybe his English wasn’t as good as he’d thought. It took only as long as that blink for Mika to realise his lack of comprehension and rescue him.

‘Hospitality. I’m a waitress in a café down in Positano.’

‘And that’s a good job?’

‘It is when you’re travelling. It’s easy to get work and nobody’s too bothered about permits or anything. You can get paid in cash, too. It’s what most people do on their OE. Part of the rite of passage, even. Everybody should work in hospo at least once.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it changes the way you see the world. You get to see the best and worst of people in ways you wouldn’t believe. And it changes how you see people who work in the kind of jobs that usually make them invisible—you know what I mean?’