Kate Hewitt - Princess's Nine-Month Secret

‘One day, such parties will be for you,’ she’d said, steering Halina towards the lift. ‘When you are wed. But as for tonight, a quiet night in while we wait for your father’s further instructions.’

Halina had never been to a proper party. Since she’d turned eighteen she’d attended a few dire state functions, endless banquets with fussy old dignitaries, but never a party. She’d never worn a cocktail dress, flirted or drunk champagne. And that was what she wanted to do tonight—to be normal just for a little while, a young woman having fun, enjoying life.

Of course, there were a few obstacles to be overcome. She’d managed the first—escaping her room. She’d pleaded a headache and hidden in her room until her mother had gone to have a bath before making her getaway.

The second obstacle was clothes. She didn’t have anything appropriate to wear. Fortunately the hotel had an upscale boutique, and after hurrying across the lobby Halina slipped into the elegant shop and picked the first suitable dress she saw—a knee-length sheath in black satin, simple, stark and very sexy. She found sheer stockings and high heels as well, and charged it all to her hotel room. She’d think about the repercussions later. Hopefully her mother would never look at the bill.

Holding the elegant bag with its embossed silver logo and thick cord handles, Halina snuck into the bathroom off the hotel’s foyer and changed in a stall, her hands shaking as she stuffed her plain shift dress into the bag from the boutique. Was she really doing this? Was she crazy ?

She’d always enjoyed pranks and dares, and had forever got into good-natured trouble at school. But this...this was something else entirely. If her mother discovered her...if her father found out... Halina trembled to think of their disappointment and wrath. Her parents were both genial, but they’d never had to deal with such direct defiance from her or her sisters. Still, she had to try. She’d just have to live with the potential consequences, whatever they were.

The door to the bathroom opened and Halina held her breath, one hand on the latch of her stall, fingers near to trembling. She couldn’t be discovered now, not when her evening was just about to begin.

She heard the click of heels and from beneath the stall she saw the stiletto-shod feet of two women as they stood in front of the bank of sinks.

‘Did you see him?’ one of the women asked in Italian, in which Halina was fluent, as the other unzipped her make-up bag. Halina peered through the crack in the stall’s door and saw the women, sleek and elegant, their lips pursed and eyes narrowed as they gazed at their glossy reflections.

‘Falcone? Yes, he’s just arrived,’ the other woman answered with a toss of her head. ‘The man’s cold. Sexy as anything, but with a heart of ice. He’s finished with his latest mistress, you know. Gave her the usual diamond bracelet as a payoff and now he’s completely blanking her. She was crying her eyes out by the buffet.’

‘That French supermodel? She didn’t last more than a week.’

‘They never do.’ The other woman capped her lipstick in one decisive movement. ‘Would you fancy him?’

‘Everyone fancies him. But would I go for him?’ The woman tilted her head, considering. ‘He must be fabulous in bed, based on everything I’ve heard, but I don’t think I could warm up to someone that cold. One of his mistresses said that afterwards he always asks the woman to leave. And I mean, right afterwards. He’s booting them out only seconds later.’

‘There could be worse things.’

‘And he insists on no personal questions at all. No asking, no answering, nothing. He just doesn’t care.’

‘But as long as you know that...’

‘So it really would just be sex,’ the woman finished with a sigh. ‘And apparently that is amazing. That supermodel said she’s been ruined for life, and it’s only been a week.’

Halina’s head whirled at the kind of gossip she’d never heard before. Whoever Falcone was, he sounded both appalling—and intriguing. Fabulous sex? She’d never even been kissed.

‘Oh, well,’ the first woman said as she zipped her bag up. ‘Someone said he’s already looking for his next mistress tonight—he doesn’t like to have long in between paramours.’

‘Mere minutes, it seems,’ the other woman quipped. ‘Well, it won’t be me.’ She sounded glum rather than determined.

With a swish of skirts and a click of heels the two women left the bathroom. Halina exhaled a huge sigh of relief. She was alone again—and it was time to make her own exit. She stuffed the bag with her own shift dress behind the toilet, hoping it would stay hidden for the evening until she was ready to return to her suite.

She hadn’t quite figured out how she was going to return—would Abdul, her guard, still be asleep? And, if he wasn’t, could she make something up about having taken a walk, gone for some fresh air? She’d just have to and hope Abdul—and her mother—bought her lie. This was her one night to shine, or at least twinkle a little.

Halina stepped out of the stall, her eyes widening at the sight of her reflection. The dress hugged her curvy figure, leaving little to the imagination. She’d never, ever worn something so flagrantly sexy. She’d never worn a dress so beautiful, so bare. She felt practically naked. The sheer stocking made her legs look long and slim, as did the sparkly black heels. She had no jewellery or make-up, and she’d have to leave her hair down, tumbled about her shoulders. She wouldn’t look nearly as sophisticated as the women she’d just been spying on, but it would have to do.

One night. An hour, even. All she wanted to do was circulate among people, drink champagne, chat and maybe, maybe , flirt a little. And then she’d creep back to her bed. But for an hour—or two—she’d have fun. She’d live.

With her head held high, Halina walked out of the bathroom. She wasn’t used to the heels and she stumbled for the first few steps before she got the hang of it, swinging her hips, sashaying a little. It buoyed her confidence, as did the admiring look from the man behind the concierge desk. She didn’t even think he recognised her from when they’d checked in earlier in the day.

She followed the signs for the party and then paused as she saw a man on the door checking a guest list. She hadn’t thought of that. The prospect of being turned away before she’d even put a toe inside the opulent ballroom made everything inside her shrivel with dismay and disappointment. She couldn’t let that happen.

A couple glided past her, pausing in front of the man. Halina watched, nibbling her lip as they gave their names and he ticked them off his list. Another couple came by, and Halina watched as they followed the same procedure before going in.

Could she sweet talk her way in? She had a flair for the dramatic, but only in the safety of home or school. She’d never tried to charm a stranger, but she supposed she’d have to try.

Just then the man with the guest list caught her eye. He raised his eyebrows, managing to look both inquiring and a bit disdainful. ‘May I help you, miss?’

Halina opened her mouth, her heart beating hard. ‘Well...’ she began, trying desperately to think of some credible reason why her name wasn’t on the list but why she should still be allowed entrance to the party. ‘As a matter of fact...’

The man’s polite smile started to turn cool. ‘Are you a guest tonight, miss...?’

Halina stared at him wretchedly. It was going to be over before it had even begun. Then she heard a voice from behind her, low and dark and rich.

‘Yes, she is,’ the man said. ‘She’s with me.’