Page 8 of Incognito

She should’ve been flattered by Dante’s interest but she wasn’t a fool. Now that he had her here, he wanted to know every last thing about the only person who knew his little secret. He probably still didn’t trust her.

“I’m my father’s right hand woman. After I graduated with an MBA, I joined him in the everyday running of the Towers. Whatever needs to be done, I do it.”

His eyes widened, the admiration in his steady blue gaze warming her from the inside out. “Is it only the two of you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Admitting it ripped through her, reopening old wounds. Would her mother have survived the heart attack without the added stress Clay had brought upon them? Would she have to spend the rest of her life harbouring the unspeakable guilt that she had contributed to her mother’s death as well as potentially ruining the family?

“You should be proud. You and your father have done a marvellous job. This hotel is wonderful.Thisis wonderful.”

He threw his arms wide in a dramatic gesture characteristic of his Italian heritage and she managed a tiny smile, when in reality she felt like bolting to the sanctity of her room and bawling her eyes out. Memories of her mother always made her feel like crying.

“Did you hire a designer to create this room?”

Natasha shook her head, a burst of pride making her sit up straighter and she quelled the urge to sniffle. “I did it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I wanted to create a home away from home for weary travellers. It’s the type of room I’d like to spend time in if I was stuck in a hotel miles away from everything familiar.”

Excitement filled her, and she marvelled at the sudden change. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything other intense, draining responsibility: she’d made a major mess of everything and she had to clean it up.

Every day used to bring joy as she accomplished tasks, yet the last year had brought nothing but guilt, recrimination, and a weary resignation for a job she used to love wholeheartedly.

But that was all about to change. Starting with the prince sitting in front of her, if he agreed to help.

“You’ve captured the exact feeling I had when I first sat here,” he said, glancing around the room with an appreciative gleam in his eyes, before his gaze came to rest on her. “You’re a very talented woman.”

“Thank you.”

She blushed, an annoying surge of heat that probably made her look like a sideshow clown. Somehow, his simple compliment meant more to her than all the accolades she’d received in the hotel business.

She must be in a soppy mood. Time to escape before she did something silly, like beg him to launch the Towers next ad campaign; or grovel in the hope he would book out the presidential suite for the next decade. Both would be financial boons and either option would get them out of trouble.

Making an obvious show of glancing at her watch, she said, “If our meeting here is over, I really must go.”

The cheeky glint in his eyes faded. “Ah yes, your secret assignation.”

That was his game, not hers. Thankfully, she bit back that retort. “Nothing too secret about meeting my best friend for our daily catch up at our favourite trattoria.”

She could’ve sworn she saw relief in his eyes before his super-sexy smile drew her attention. “You meet your friend every day?”

She nodded, knowing she would never have survived the last few years without brash, exuberant Ella, the sweetest, loyal friend a girl could wish for. The two of them had met through Telford Towers, when Ella had moved into one of the apartments five years ago.

The Dastardly Duo, her mum had called them. Natasha preferred dynamic duo because that’s how great Ella made her feel; her best friend was reliable and loads of fun, and it seemed like too long since she’d had any.

“Yeah, catching up daily keeps us sane. Nothing better than unwinding over a latte at the end of a hard day.”

“You are lucky.” He shrugged, a simple, eloquent gesture that spoke volumes when combined with the wistful tone in his voice.

At that precise moment, Natasha could’ve sworn the prince sounded lonely.

“I know, I’m lucky to have her. Now, I’m sorry, but I must dash.” She stood, eager to put distance between them before she leaned over and gave him a comforting hug. He looked like he needed one.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. And for agreeing to assist with that other matter.” He stood and gave a strange, little formal bow which made her want to giggle considering his bad-boy outfit.

Guys with day-old stubble, unruly hair, and faded denim didn’t bow. They rode motorbikes and broke hearts.

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