Page 9 of Incognito

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me,” she said, out of habit as she grabbed her purse.

Not that his sneaky highness would need anything more from her. She’d bet he had his whole week planned out, starting with a rendezvous with the royal mistress.

“How do you propose I do that?”

She halted, surprised by the hint of urgency in his voice. “Uh… you can contact me through reception.”

His sceptical look implied he knew she’d just given him the brush-off.

Though it wouldn’t be smart getting her walking-talking-promotional-dream off-side this early. She needed to appear a tad friendlier, more approachable.

She rifled through her purse and handed him a business card. “Or rather than going through reception, you can contact me on that number if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Natasha returned his polite smile, unable to shake the deep-seated niggle that there was more to the prince’s charade than met the eye—and she’d just handed him an easy way to involve her in it.

5

“You’re late.”

Ella tapped her watch and mock glowered as Natasha rushed into Trevi’s and fell into her usual seat.

“Sorry,” Natasha said, unable to stop a huge smirk spreading across her face.

She’d never been any good at keeping gossip involving guys from her best friend and considering the afternoon she’d had, starting with meeting Dante and ending in agreeing to assist his clandestine plans, she knew this would be another one of those times where she couldn’t help but share. Every last juicy detail…

“No, you’re not.” Ella gestured at Luigi, their favourite waiter, to bring them the usual. “You’ve got that look that says you’ve been up to no good and enjoying it way too much.”

Natasha laughed and threw her hands up in surrender. “Give me a chance to catch my breath. And remind me to never try and hide anything from you. Who are you, the secret police?”

“So, you do have a secret.” Ella snapped her fingers. “Come on, tell all.”

“Can’t I at least wait until my mocha cappuccino arrives?”

“No!” Ella shouted and Luigi’s head snapped up from the coffee machine, an indulgent smile on his face as he winked athis two favourite customers. Though Natasha suspected he said that to all the girls.

Natasha usually enjoyed toying with Ella, feeding her tiny tidbits of gossip gleaned from her varied and unusual jobs in the hotel. However, by the avaricious gleam in Ella’s eyes, she knew now wasn’t one of those times to tease. Besides, she had the strangest urge to blurt the truth and get her friend’s point of view.

“Okay. Though what I’m about to say must adhere strictly to our lips zipped policy, okay?”

“Absolutely,” Ella said, miming zipping her lips and throwing away the key. “It’s nothing serious, is it?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

She’d make sure of it.

There was no way she’d ever burden her friend with her financial troubles or that she could lose her home if the Towers went under.

Ella’s eyes narrowed. “I know, it has something to do with the prince. How did it go? Has he swept you off your feet? Does he want to take you back to his castle and make you his love slave? Should I buy you some of those funky princess slippers?”

Natasha laughed, more than a little disturbed that Ella’s preposterous questions elicited a thrill of excitement. What would it be like to be swept off her feet by a prince and spirited away to his castle to live happily ever after like the fairytales promised?

Something she’d never know about, and the small romantic part of her that had survived Clay’s treachery, the part that still harboured dreams of finding the elusive ‘one’ despite what she’d been through, agreed.

“You can hold off on the slippers,” Natasha said, watching Ella lean forward with an avid expression. “I don’t think I’m the prince’s type.”

“Babe, you’re gorgeous. You could have any man you want.” Ella’s indignant quick-fire response brought an unexpected lump to Natasha’s throat.

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