Lynn Raye Harris - Men In Uniform - Captivated By The Prince

‘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.