Page 69 of Royally Roma
“This isn’t how it looks.”
Chiara laughed. Hard.
“Shh. You’re going to wake him!” At the moment, a conscious prince sounded much worse than a sleeping one.
Chiara shot another long, lingering glance at the door. “You didn’t sleep with him. Then you’re either crazy or stupid. I’m not sure which.”
“Crazy or stupid? Those are my only options?”
“I’m willing to throw hopelessly naïve into the mix. Really, Julia. How could you not recognize him?” Chiara grabbed a copy ofNovella 2000off the table just inside the door and shoved it at her.
Nico—correction,Niccolo—stared back at her from the cover, looking as he had when she’d first seen him on the piazza at the hotel. The same moody gray gaze, same perfectly shaped lips, same close-cropped beard. The abrupt disappearance of the beard should have been the clincher. She’d had her doubts about his outlandish fake name, but no one dashes out of the Colosseum for an emergency shave. Not even men named Mano Romano.
God, she was an idiot.
“You seem upset,” Chiara said.
“Of course I’m upset. This is bad. Really bad.” And here she’d thought that losing her job had been the low point of her week.
Chiara rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? This is the best thing that could have happened to you.”
“How so?” It wasn’t good. Not at all. She was jobless. She could end up in the papers.Again.And this would be far worse than before.
She felt sick. Absolutely ill. And for some reason, the fact that he’d lied to her—for two straight days—hurt most of all.
“You’re sitting on a gold mine. Do you have any idea how much that picture of Niccolo La Torre is worth? He’s naked...in your bed...when he’s supposed to be too ill to show up for his appointments. With a single phone call, you could sell that photo and every one of your money problems would be solved. Think about it. You could pay off all those debts Elio racked up in your name. You could finish your master’s degree without worrying about where your next meal is coming from. You could move into a bigger flat.”
“No. It couldn’t be that valuable, could it?” Julia shook her head. “Surely not.”
“Of course it is. Nothing sells more newspapers than a royal scandal. Think about it.”
Julia stared down at the magazine in her hand. Chiara had a point.
“You could sell it on the condition that they leave your name out of it. Everyone wants to know where Niccolo La Torre has been this weekend. Someone is going to find out. Reporters always do. You know that better than anyone.” Chiara gave her a knowing look.
Someone is going to find out. Reporters always do.
All the awful headlines that Julia had run halfway across the world to escape flashed before her eyes. She remembered being chased down the street by paparazzi every time she left the house. She remembered all the dreadful names she’d been called by the press. She remembered all too well the humiliation and the tears.
And now it would happen all over again.
Bile rose to the back of her throat.
“Listen to me, Julia.” Chiara gestured toward the magazine. “If you broke the story,youcould be in control. This is your chance. Don’t blow it.”
Everything Chiara said made perfect sense. But could Julia really go through with it?
If she was smart, she would listen to her friend. Chiara knew what she’d been through. Chiara cared about her. She’d certainly never gotten her fired. And she’d never, ever lied to her.
Still, she didn’t think she could go through with it. “It feels wrong.”
“Need I remind you that he lied about who he is, purposely hijacked your actual client’s tour, and got you fired? This is Elio all over again, but with worse consequences.” Chiara narrowed her gaze. “If the two of you had feelings for one another, it would be different. I’m not misunderstanding things, am I? After all, he’s a prince. Even if you fell madly in love with him, the two of you could never be together.”
Julia laughed a little too loudly. “I’m most definitely not in love with him. That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.”
He was maddening. She would have to be crazy to have feelings for the man. And even if she did, which she most definitely didnot, Chiara was right. Princes didn’t marry the daughters of embezzlers. Not that Mano, Nico, Niccolo, or whatever his name was intended to get down on bended knee anytime soon. Or ever.
“I’ll think about it.” Julia wrapped her arms around herself to keep from coming apart at the seams.
