Men In Uniform: Captivated By The Prince
Slowly Emily turned around, her eyes widening when she saw what he was looking at. A beautifully upholstered taupe suede viewing seat was angled to face a large entertainment system. Nestled in the corner of the unusual triangular-shaped seat rested a violin, propped up between two cream silk cushions. ‘Should it be out of its case?’ she mumbled foolishly, sinking down on the sofa again.
‘I imagine that’s the only way it’s ever going to be played,’ Alessandro said, levelling a long, steady gaze at her.
Emily’s heart was thundering so fast she could hardly breathe. She had to turn round to take another look, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming—to prove to herself that she really was in the same room as the violin Miranda had played in Heidelberg.
‘But you told me it was a museum piece—beyond price,’ she said, not caring that her battered emotions were now plainly on show. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Everything has its price Emily,’ Alessandro said with a small shrug as he regarded her coolly.
He was waiting. For what? For her to say something? But how could she when her brain had stalled with shock and her whole body was quivering from some force beyond her control? To make matters worse, Emily couldn’t rid herself of the idea that she too was a prize exhibit—and with a rather large price tag dangling over her nose.
‘You bought it?’ she managed finally.
‘I bought it,’ Alessandro confirmed.
‘But why on earth—?’
‘As a bargaining counter.’
‘A bargaining counter?’ Emily spluttered incredulously. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Will you allow me to explain?’
Emily clenched and unclenched her hands. She didn’t like the look on his face one bit. ‘I think you better had,’ she agreed stiffly, feeling as if she was clinging to Miranda’s dream by just her fingertips now.
‘It would be far better for your sister if she had enough money to continue her studies without the distraction of working with the band.’
‘Well, of course,’ Emily agreed. ‘But—’
Alessandro’s imperious gesture cut her off. ‘Let me finish, please. It would be better still if she could have the use of that violin behind you—’
‘Is this before or after she wins the Lottery?’ Emily demanded, rattled by his composure.
‘What if I told you that I am prepared to give the violin to your sister…on permanent loan?’
A thundering silence took hold of the space between them—until Alessandro’s voice sliced through it like a blade. ‘Well, Emily, what do you say?’
‘What would she have to do for that?’ Emily demanded suspiciously.
‘Your sister? Nothing at all.’ Alessandro’s mouth firmed as he waited for Emily’s thought processes to crest the shock he had just given her and get back up to speed.
Emily’s eyes clouded with apprehension as her brain cells jostled back into some semblance of order. ‘What would I have to do?’
A smile slowly curled around Alessandro’s lips, then died again. She was so bright…so vulnerable. It was as if he had spied some rare flower, moments too late to prevent his foot crushing the life out of it.
Standing up, he crossed the room. He needed time to think…but there was none. Opening a door, he reached inside the small cloakroom where he had been keeping the flowers. He had ordered the extravagant bouquet to seal their bargain. As he grabbed hold of them he realised that his hand was shaking. He paused a beat to consider what he should do. He could ram them in the wastebin, where they belonged, or he could keep on with the charade…
Turning to face Emily, he held out the huge exotic floral arrangement. There was real hope in his eyes, and a sudden tenderness to his hard mouth.
‘I’m sorry, Emily, I meant to give these to you earlier.’ She looked so wary, and Alessandro knew he was the cause. What had started out as a straightforward business transaction had developed into something so much more. If Emily Weston accepted his proposal he would be the luckiest man in Ferara…No—the world, he thought, trying to second-guess her reaction.
‘For what?’ Emily said, glad to have the opportunity to bury her face deep out of sight amongst the vivid blooms as he handed them to her. ‘I’ve never seen such a fabulous display,’ she admitted, forced to pull her face out again when they began to tickle her nose.
‘For agreeing to become my wife,’ Alessandro said softly.
For a full ten seconds neither of them seemed to breathe, and then Emily whispered tensely, ‘Are you mad?’
Alessandro’s rational self gave a wry smile, and told him she might be right. But thirty generations of accumulated pride in Ferara insisted that no woman in her right mind would refuse the opportunity to become princess of that land.
‘Not as far as I am aware,’ he said coolly.
‘I think you must be.’
‘I said I had a proposition for you. I made no secret of it.’
‘Yes, a recording contract…for my sister—from Prince Records,’ Emily said, thrusting the bouquet away from her as if she felt that by accepting it she was in some way endorsing Alessandro’s plunge into the realms of fantasy.
‘I have no connection whatever with any company called Prince Records,’ he said, brushing some imagined lint from the lapel of his jacket.
‘What?’
‘You assumed I was a recording executive,’ he elaborated. ‘I allowed you to go on believing that…while it suited me.’
‘I see,’ Emily said, finding it difficult to breathe. ‘And now?’
‘The deception is no longer necessary,’ Alessandro admitted. ‘Because I have something you want and you have something I want. It’s time to cut a deal.’
Emily felt as if her veins had been infused with ice. She might be twenty-eight and unmarried, but when her prince came along she wanted more than a business deal to seal their union…she wanted love, passion, tenderness and a lifetime’s commitment—not a charter of convenience to close a cold and cynical deal. ‘So, who the hell are you?’ she demanded furiously.
‘Crown Prince Alessandro Bussoni di Ferara,’ he said. ‘I know it’s rather a mouthful—Emily?’
Snapping her mouth shut again, Emily whacked the bouquet into his arms. ‘Take your damn flowers back! My sister might be in a vulnerable position right now, but let me assure you, Alessandro, I’m not.’
‘Your sister put herself in this position—’
‘How dare you judge her?’ Emily flared, springing to her feet to glare up at him. ‘You don’t have the remotest idea how hard she works!’
Alessandro felt as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt, and it had nothing to do with the fact that no one—absolutely no one—had ever addressed him in this furious manner in all his life before.
Just seeing Emily now, her eyes blazing and her hair flung back, her face alive with passion, intelligence and a truckload of determination, he felt a desperate urge to direct that passion into something that would give them both a lot more pleasure than arguing about her sister.
Was he falling in love? Could it be possible? Or was he already in love? Alessandro forced a lid on the well of joy that threatened to erupt and call him a liar for wearing such a set and stony expression in response to her outburst, when all he wanted to do was to drag her into his arms and kiss the breath out of her body. Had the thunderbolt struck the first moment he saw her, commanding that gaudily decorated stage…putting the harsh spotlights to shame with her luminous beauty—a beauty that had refused to stay hidden even under what had seemed to him at the time to be half a bucket of greasepaint?
‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and call my car for you,’ he said steadily, revealing nothing of his thoughts. ‘I can see you’re upset right now. We will discuss this tomorrow, when you are feeling calmer—’
‘Don’t waste your time!’ Emily snapped defensively.
‘With your permission,’ Alessandro said, swooping to retrieve the discarded bouquet from the floor by her feet, ‘I’ll have these couriered to your mother.’
‘Do what the hell you want with them!’
But as she calmed down in the limousine taking her safely home through the damply glittering streets, Emily was forced to accept that without financial assistance Miranda would never achieve her full potential. A grant might be found to cover her lessons with the Japanese violin professor, but no one was going to stump up the funds necessary to buy her a violin of real quality.
But how could marriage to a stranger provide the answer? She gave her head an angry shake, then began to frown as she turned Alessandro’s preposterous suggestion over in her mind. With the right controls in place it might be possible…it would certainly secure Miranda’s future.
The ball was in Alessandro’s court. If he was serious he wouldn’t be put off by her first refusal; he would be back in touch with a firm proposition very soon…Very soon. How long was that? Emily wondered, feeling a thrill of anticipation race through her.
CHAPTER FOUR
EMILY’S family sat in a closely knit group on the sofa in front of her, their faces frozen with disbelief.
‘And so we’ll all board Alessandro’s private jet and fly out to Ferara for the wedding,’ Emily finished calmly.
Her mother recovered first. Glancing at the vivid floral display that took up most of the front window, she turned back again to Emily, her face tense with suppressed excitement. ‘Are you quite sure about this?’
‘Quite sure, Mother.’
‘No,’ Miranda said decisively. ‘I can’t let you do this for me.’
But as Miranda cradled the precious violin in her arms it appeared to Emily as if the wonderful old instrument had finally come home.
‘Believe me, you can,’ she said firmly, turning next to her father. ‘Dad? Don’t you have anything you’d like to say?’
Her father made a sound of exasperation as he wiped a blunt-fingered hand across his forehead. ‘I’ve never understood this romance business. I just knew your mother was right for me and asked her to marry me. She accepted and that was it.’
‘You can’t mean you approve of this, Dad?’ Miranda burst out, distracted from her minute inspection of the violin. ‘Just because it worked for you and Mum doesn’t mean it’s right for Emily. She doesn’t even know this Alessandro Bussoni—’
‘Well, I only got to know your father in the first year,’ their mother pointed out. ‘And Alessandro’s a prince.’
As Miranda groaned and rolled her eyes heavenwards, her father made his excuses.
‘I have work to finish if we’re all going off on this jaunt next week.’
‘A jaunt?’ Miranda exclaimed, watching him hurry out of the room. ‘Doesn’t Dad know how serious this is?’
‘Alessandro has given me a cast-iron contract,’ Emily said calmly. ‘I’ve read it through carefully and even had it double-checked in Chambers.’
‘And you’re sure that Miranda’s fees will be paid in full?’
Miranda flashed a look of dismay at her mother.’ Mother, really!’
Emily put a restraining hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Fees, as well as a grant, Mother, plus an indefinite loan of the violin.’
‘And the only way Alessandro’s elderly father can abdicate is if Alessandro marries you?’
‘That’s right, Mother. You see, we need each other.’
In spite of her bold assurances, Emily wondered if she really was quite sane. She could recall every nuance of Alessandro’s telephone call—the call that had come through almost the moment she’d walked into her apartment after their meeting. He had signed off the deal with a generosity beyond anything she could have anticipated. At least, those were the tactics he had employed to make her change her mind, she amended silently. Tactics. She rolled the cold little word around her mind, wishing there could have been more—wishing she could have detected even the slightest tinge of warmth or enthusiasm in Alessandro’s voice when he’d upped his offer to ensure her agreement. But it had been just a list of commitments he was prepared to make in exchange for her hand in marriage. He might have been reading from a list—perhaps he had been, Emily thought, trying to concentrate on what her sister was saying.
‘And all you have to do is marry some stranger,’ Miranda exclaimed contemptuously.
‘Don’t be like that,’ Emily said softly.
Miranda made a sound of disgust. ‘Well, I think you’ve all gone completely mad.’
Emily might have agreed, even smiled to hear the word she had so recently flung at Alessandro echoed by her sister, but noticing how Miranda held the violin a little closer while she spoke only firmed her resolve. ‘This marriage lasts just long enough to allow Alessandro’s father to abdicate in his favour and Miranda to complete her studies with Professor Iwamoto. That’s it. Then it’s over. So don’t any of you start building castles in the air—’
‘Castles,’ her mother breathed, clapping her hands together as she gazed blissfully forward into the future. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
‘I’ll make it work. I have to,’ Emily said, when she was alone in her bedroom with Miranda later that day. ‘I’ve got nothing to lose—’
‘You’ve got everything to lose!’ Miranda argued passionately. ‘You might fall in love with Alessandro, and then what?’
‘I’m twenty-eight and have managed to avoid any serious romantic entanglements so far.’
‘Only because you’re a workaholic and no one remotely like Alessandro has ever crossed your path before,’ Miranda exclaimed impatiently. ‘What are you going to do if you fall in love with him? He’s one gorgeous-looking man—’
‘Which makes it all the easier to keep the relationship on a professional level,’ Emily cut in, seizing on the potential for disappointment. ‘He’s bound to be spoiled, selfish, inconsiderate and self-obsessed. Just the type of man I have always found so easy to resist.’
‘And what if you get pregnant?’ Miranda persisted.
‘Absolutely no chance of that.’
‘Now you do have to be kidding. You’ll never be able to resist him. And Alessandro looks like one fertile guy—’
‘It’s never going to happen without sex.’
‘What?’ Miranda stared blankly at her.
‘I’ve had it written into the contract,’ Emily said, congratulating herself on her foresight. ‘It seemed like a sensible precaution. And it saves any embarrassment for either party.’
‘“It saves any embarrassment for either party”,’ Miranda mimicked, trying not to laugh. ‘Get real! You’ll never know what you’re missing.’
‘Exactly,’ Emily confirmed. ‘And I intend to go back to work when all this is over, so I don’t need any distractions.’
‘Alessandro isn’t a distraction; he’s a lifetime’s obsession,’ Miranda pointed out dreamily.
‘Maybe,’ Emily conceded. ‘But he’ll want out of this contract as much as I will do. Don’t go making Mother’s mistake and reading more into it than there is. This is a straightforward business deal that suits both of us. It’s a merger, not a marriage.’
‘Then I’m sorry for you,’ Miranda said softly. ‘For Alessandro, too. And it makes me feel so guilty—’
‘Don’t,’ Emily said fiercely, clutching her sister’s arm. ‘Don’t use that word. You have to support me, Miranda. It’s too late to back out now. I’ve already arranged to take a career break. Just think—I’ll be able to pay off my mortgage with Alessandro’s divorce settlement, so you’re helping me to achieve my dream, too.’
‘In that case, I guess we’re in this together,’ Miranda said, pulling a resigned face.
‘Just like always,’ Emily admitted, forcing a bright note into her voice as she tried not to care that her marriage to Alessandro was doomed before it even began.
‘Like for ever,’ Miranda agreed, on the same note as her twin. But her face was full of concern as she looked beyond Emily’s determined front and saw the truth hovering behind her sister’s eyes.
It was a beautiful summer’s evening of the type rarely seen in England. The milky blue sky was deepening steadily to indigo, and it was still warm enough to sit out on the hotel balcony in comfort. The uniqueness of the weather was perfectly in accord with the mood of the occasion, Emily mused as she watched Alessandro come back to her with two slender crystal flutes of champagne. The business of signing the contract was over, and now it was time to celebrate a most unusual deal.
A little shiver ran through her as she took the glass. Marriage to a man like Alessandro would have been an intoxicating prospect whatever his condition in life…If there had only been the smallest flicker of romance—but there was none.
‘To us,’ he murmured, breaking into her thoughts with the most inappropriate toast she could imagine.
‘To our mutual satisfaction,’ Emily amended, only to find herself qualifying that pledge when she saw the look on his face. ‘With the outcome of our agreement,’ she clarified.
‘Ah, yes, our agreement,’ Alessandro repeated with a faint smile. ‘It may not have been spelled out to you exactly, but you will be entitled to keep the title of Principessa if you so wish…Emily?’
‘That’s really not important—’
‘Not important?’
She could see she had offended him. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I—’
His dismissive gesture cut her off. Turning his back, he stared out across the rapidly darkening cityscape. ‘Once we are married the title is yours for life, whether or not you choose to use it.’
‘I will have done nothing to earn that right,’ Emily protested edgily.
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Alessandro countered, spearing her with a glance. ‘There are bound to be difficulties before you settle into the role.’
‘Please don’t worry about me, Alessandro. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’
Emily was convinced that she was right, but she hadn’t reckoned with the speed with which Alessandro would put the plan into operation. By the end of the week even travel arrangements had been finalised. Emily and her family would fly to Ferara in Alessandro’s private jet while he remained in London to conclude his business dealings there.
As the day of departure drew closer, the speed of change in Emily’s life began gathering pace at a rate she couldn’t control. It felt as if the carefully crafted existence she had built for herself was being steadily unpicked, stitch by intricate stitch. The first warning sign was when a young couple arrived unannounced to take her measurements and speak in reverent terms of Brussels lace and Shantung silk, Swiss embroidery and pearls. At that point Emily realised that if she didn’t put her foot down she would have little to say even about the style of her own wedding dress. As if to confirm her suspicions, just a couple of days later clothes began arriving at her apartment—without anything being ordered as far as she was aware—as well as boxes of shoes by the trunkload.
Feeling presumptuous, almost as if she was attempting to contact someone she hardly knew, she picked up the telephone to call Alessandro at his London office.
She was so surprised when his secretary put her straight through that for a few moments she could hardly think straight.
‘I know it’s a bit crude,’ he admitted, covering for her sudden shyness with his easy manner. ‘But time has been condensed for us, Emily, and I wanted you to feel comfortable—’
‘Comfortable?’ Emily heard herself exclaim. ‘With clothes labelled “Breakfast, lunch, dinner: al fresco; breakfast, lunch, dinner: formal”! And that’s only two of the categories. There must be at least a dozen more—’
‘You don’t like them?’ Alessandro said, sounding genuinely concerned.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.’
‘Should we meet and discuss it, do you think?’
‘Yes.’ She should have pretended to think about his offer for a moment or two, she realised.
‘Shall I come for you now?’ There was a note of amusement in his voice.
‘That would be nice,’ she managed huskily.
Alessandro took her to lunch at one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. Somewhere so discreet that even a prince and his beautiful young companion could pass a comfortable hour or two consuming delicious food in a private booth well away from prying eyes.
Laying down her napkin after the most light millefeuille of plump strawberries, bursting with juice, sweetened with icing sugar and whipped cream, Emily wondered how she was going to refuse Alessandro’s fabulous gifts without offending him.
‘Is something troubling you?’ he pressed, signalling to the waiter that he was ready to sign the bill. ‘You surely can’t still be worrying about those clothes?’
‘I don’t know what to think about them,’ Emily admitted frankly, hiding her confusion behind the guise of practicality. ‘There are just so many outfits—it would take me the best part of a year just to try them all on.’
‘So leave it for now,’ he suggested casually. ‘Grab a few things you like, and I’ll have the rest delivered to the palace. You can take your time over them in Ferara. I just thought as we were in London it was too good an opportunity to miss.’
‘You’re very kind…too kind,’ Emily said impulsively. Her heart was hammering painfully in her chest, while Alessandro’s gaze warmed her face, demanding that she look at him.
‘I just want you to be happy,’ he murmured.
A muscle flexed in his jaw, as if he was struggling with the situation almost as much as she was. ‘For the duration of the contract,’ Emily said, as if trying to set things straight in both their minds.
Inclining his head towards her, Alessandro gave a brief nod of agreement. ‘Talking of which—’ Reaching inside the breast pocket of his lightweight jacket, he brought something out, then seemed to think better of it and put it back again.
‘Are you ready to go?’ he said, standing up. ‘I thought we might take a stroll around the park before I take you back.’
As they left the restaurant Emily was aware that the same men who had followed them discreetly from her apartment were just a few footsteps behind them now.
‘Don’t worry,’ Alessandro said, linking her arm through his, seeing her turn. ‘They’re the good guys.’
‘Your bodyguards?’
‘Yours, too, now that you are to be my wife,’ he reminded her.
The thought that she was to be Alessandro’s wife excited her, in spite of everything, but the thought that she would never go anywhere again without bodyguards was the flipside of the coin. She needed Alessandro to guide her through this confusing new world, Emily realised. There were so many things she had to ask him…
‘Would you like to come back to my place for coffee?’
The few seconds before he replied felt like hours. So long, in fact, that Emily began to feel foolish—as if she had made some clumsy approach to a man she’d only just met.
‘Better not,’ he replied with a quick smile.
‘Don’t worry—I just thought—’
Alessandro could have kicked himself. Emily’s invitation had been irresistible—almost. But if they went back to her apartment there could only be one outcome and, to his continued surprise, Emily Weston had awoken a whole gamut of masculine instincts within him—prime amongst which, at this moment, was his desire to protect her. To protect her, to woo her, and then make her his wife. And he had already accepted that the timing of that last part of his plan might not coincide exactly with their wedding day.
‘There’s still time for that walk in the park.’
They were sheltering from rain beneath a bandstand when he said, ‘You’d better have this.’
‘What is it?’ Emily said curiously, watching as again he dipped his hand inside the breast pocket of his jacket. She frowned when she saw the ring he was holding out to her.
‘It would cause quite a stir in Ferara if you weren’t seen wearing this particular piece of jewellery,’ Alessandro explained, as coolly as if it was a laptop that came with the job.
Of course there would be a ring…she should have known. And it was a very beautiful ring. But shouldn’t an engagement ring be given with love…and with tenderness?
‘Don’t you like it?’
It really mattered to him, Emily realised, taking in the fact that the ring was obviously very old and must have been worn by Alessandro’s ancestors for generations—possibly even by his late mother.