Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance) (12 page)

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Authors: Natasha Moore

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BOOK: Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance)
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She found her purse where it had fallen off the edge of the bed. She pulled out her phone and was not surprised to discover that Birgitte had not returned her call yet. Mia left another quick message, trying to be as vague as possible. She wouldn’t put it past her cousin to completely ignore her if she thought she might be pressured into doing something she didn’t want to do, especially agree to a marriage she didn’t want.

Mia padded into the sitting room to find coffee, juice, and covered dishes on the table. An empty coffee cup sat on one side of the table. Did Vittorio only have some coffee before he took off for his meetings? No wonder he was so tired at the end of the day. She ate a light breakfast and then sipped on coffee as she wandered back over to look out the window.

She had a large cottage garden behind her house that she enjoyed working in when the weather permitted. How wonderful it would be to be able to garden year round. Perhaps if there was nothing else for her to do here, she could play around in the neglected garden.

There was a sharp rap at the door and before Mia could call out a welcome, the door flew open and a tall, shapely woman strode in. Her dark hair was smoothed back into a chignon, her make-up flawless on her striking face. Her charcoal gray suit was softened by a peach blouse.

She was so elegant and put together, Mia couldn’t help but be immediately intimidated by her.

She almost laughed. The crown prince of Mezzano didn’t intimidate her, but this elegant woman did? Perhaps because she looked more like the type of woman who belonged in a palace.

So unlike Mia.

Following behind the woman were two men pushing rolling clothes racks packed with clothing; colorful dresses and trousers, blouses and jackets. Rows of shoes and boots lined up on the bottom.

“Miss Holmberg, I am Isabel. His Royal Highness said you were unable to bring your wardrobe with you and asked me to find some appropriate clothing for you. I’ve brought a variety of styles and colors for you to choose from.” She looked Mia up and down and kept her face carefully blank. Mia felt like a country mouse in her sensible jeans and T-shirt. “I’m certain we can find exactly the right outfits for you.”

“Wait. I thought I would be going shopping this morning.” Mia wondered what Isabel had been told about her. Probably not that she was a kidnap victim. Most likely that she was the prince’s new mistress and needed to be taught how to dress the part.

“That is what we are doing,” Isabel said brightly. “We have simply brought the clothing to you. It is much better than going around from store to store, is it not?”

“Of course.” Vittorio was not going to let her leave the palace. Mia should have realized that. He was probably afraid she would try to escape, even after she’d agreed to his demands. He probably didn’t think the word of an admitted liar meant much. He’d probably never trust her.

She took a deep breath. Just one glance at the quality of the fabrics hanging on the carts told her that she never would have set foot in a store that would carry these obviously expensive clothes. “All right. Let’s have a look. I’m sure I can only afford a couple outfits. And shoes. I have no shoes. Or underwear.”

Isabel’s carefully constructed façade actually faltered for a moment. No shoes or underwear? How was that possible? The curiosity flashed in her eyes for a brief second before it was gone.

“You misunderstand, Miss Holmberg. The prince is taking care of everything. He would not expect you to pay.”

His other mistresses had probably taken him for all they could get. “Oh, no. He’s not buying me one piece of clothing. Not one pair of shoes.” She was not going to be like the women the people of Stagatland sneered at. “I can pay my own way.” Mia was not here because of what she could get from the prince. Except sex. She was only here for the sex.

Mia whipped out her credit card and handed it to Isabel. “Here.”

Isabel took the card, jotted down the information and gave it back to her. “Of course. I will inform the prince. Now let’s see which of these outfits will make you look incredible for His Highness.”

Mia wanted to tell this elegant woman that she didn’t need to look incredible for Vittorio. She only needed shoes. And a dress for dinner. Well, maybe a few dresses if she was going to be here more than a day or two. She mentally cursed her cousin for getting her in this situation, then spent the next several hours trying on nearly everything Isabel had brought with her. Mia had to admit that many of these outfit made her feel incredible. Almost made her look as if she belonged here.

No. She’d never belong here.

Still, Mia couldn’t help but imagine what Vittorio would think as she tried on each piece of clothing. Couldn’t help but be glad she would look beautiful for him again.

She finally chose a couple dresses along with shoes to match. And some fancy undergarments. She’d actually been relieved to realize the goons hadn’t rummaged through her underwear drawer. Everything was finer than anything she’d ever had before. She’d be paying off the cost of this shopping spree for some time. But it was better that way. Better to keep her self-respect even at the extra hit to her budget.

By the time she was finally alone again in the suite, Mia had grown tired and cranky. The walls seemed to close in on her. She threw the doors to the little balcony open wide and stepped out into the fresh air, pushed away the memory of Vittorio’s body pressed up against hers. A glance out at the neglected garden plot made her even more restless. She had to get outside for a little while.

Dressed again in the worn jeans and T-shirt, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then opened the door to see Tony standing guard as he had been the day before. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“Of course. I will be happy to accompany you,” he said. “Would you like a tour of the grounds?”

She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to wander about on her own. She smiled at Tony. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.” He led her down the hallway, around a couple turns, and down an elevator to a door that opened onto the back lawn of the palace. The warm, moist air pressed down on her. This climate would take some getting used to. If she were staying. As it was, she just had to get through the next day or two. Mia took a deep breath and detected the scent of ocean in the air. “This is so different than what I’m used to.”

“The weather?” Tony asked as they strolled down the stone walkway, worn smooth by centuries of feet walking this same path. Mia could feel the history and traditions of Mezzano as sharply as she did those of Stagatland, and was pleased to realize not everything was different here.

“I was surprised how much colder your country was than Mezzano,” Tony went on. “I’m not surprised you feel that it is unfamiliar to you here.”

“Yes, the weather is part of it, of course. But the palace, the landscaping, the servants, the bodyguard.” She smiled up at Tony to show she felt no ill will toward him. “It is all different from what I am accustomed to.” They approached the fenced-in garden she’d spied from Vittorio’s window, one of the reasons she wanted to walk outside. “Why is this garden so neglected when the rest of the grounds are well maintained?”

Tony was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how to explain. “This space is called the Queen’s Garden. Her Majesty would often work out here tending it. No one has touched it since she died.”

“Why not?” Wouldn’t the royal family want the garden to be maintained to honor the late Queen?

He shrugged. “I believe the gardeners were not allowed to tend it while she was alive and they have never been given permission to enter the garden since she died.”

“That’s so sad. I can see it must have been lovely.” She left the path and tested the ornate iron gate. It squeaked as it opened, but she was pleased to discover it wasn’t locked. She stepped into the garden.

“Miss Holmberg…” Tony stopped at the gate and didn’t follow her inside.

“Please, Tony. I just want to look around.” She’d love to get her hands in this rich soil. To see this garden spring back to life. But she wouldn’t be here long enough to make a difference. She didn’t
want
to be here that long. Still, she could talk to Vittorio about allowing the palace gardeners in here, instead of leaving it sad and neglected.

Tony stepped into the garden. “The prince is looking for you.”

“Well, you can tell him where I am.”

“I did, Miss. He wishes to see you in his rooms. Now.”

Of course he did. He probably wanted a quickie in between meetings. Wasn’t that what she was here for? “Okay, Tony.” Mia took a deep sigh and left the garden, closing the gate carefully behind her. At least she’d get a chance to talk to Vittorio about the garden.

He was waiting for her when she got back to his suite. He stood at the window, looking out to where she had just been. He didn’t turn around when she entered the room.

“What were you doing in the Queen’s Garden?” he asked, his voice sharp, with his back still to her.

“I was just looking around. I like gardens.” Was he angry? She joined him at the window.

“I thought it was sad to see it so neglected. Why hasn’t it been kept up? I’d be happy to spend a little time out there if it’s all right.”

“It is called the Queen’s Garden for a reason.” He turned to pin her with his dark gaze. “Only the Queen of Mezzano tends it. No one else. It will lie there as it is until a new queen tends it again.”

She understood he still grieved his mother’s death. “I see. That’s too bad,” she said softly, slowly. Mia realized she’d overstepped her boundaries by going into the garden. Tony had tried to warn her.

She didn’t want Vittorio angry at her again. Still she couldn’t help but ask, “What if Birgitte doesn’t like to garden? I can’t really see her as the gardening type.”

“It is of no concern to you.” He closed the long gold draperies, blocking the sun. Blocking the view. “Have you heard from the princess?”

She’d left the phone sitting on the nightstand. Mia turned away from him and walked into the bedroom. He followed her. “No messages. No missed calls.”

Vittorio frowned. “She is avoiding you.”

“Probably. Unless she’s so busy with all her friends that she hasn’t been checking her messages. And if she had a late night, she might still be in bed.” Anything was possible with Birgitte.

“I suppose you are right.”

Vittorio looked as tired as he had the day before, and it was only shortly after noon.

“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked.

He waved her question away. “No. I have another meeting in a few moments.”

So many meetings. She brushed her fingers over his cheek. “Your staff should take better care of you.”

He shrugged as if being too busy to eat was not a problem. “Did you enjoy your shopping this morning?”

“Oh, yeah. It was great. I love looking at beautiful clothes I can’t afford.”

“Cost is irrelevant. Did Isabel not explain that to you?”

“Your personal shopper explained everything perfectly. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to let you buy me things.”

The look of confusion on his face might have been amusing if it wasn’t so infuriating.

“Why not?”

“I’m sure all your other mistresses loved to have you spend tons of money on them, but I don’t. I don’t want you to buy me anything.” She wasn’t trading her body or her self-respect for a few pieces of clothing, especially clothing she’d never have the occasion to wear again.

Vittorio stepped closer and she wanted nothing more than to lean into him. Nothing more than to agree to anything he wanted. But she couldn’t.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “You need clothing. I can provide them for you. It is simple.”

Mia turned away to pace the room. She didn’t know how Vittorio could stand so still. He was like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. She needed to move, had to find a way to burn off this frustration.

“Not so simple,” she told him, whirling around to face him again. “I bought some dresses myself so I can be attired appropriately for dinner with you. That’s all you should be worried about, right?”

He frowned. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because I am being kept here against my will and I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

He was in front of her in a second, yanked her up against him. The sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it. “And was last night a ‘bad situation’, Mia?” he growled.

“No. No, of course not. The sex part is great, it’s the rest of the mistress job that I’m not comfortable with.”

He released her and she almost whimpered. “There’s nothing else for you to do,” he said with a shrug. “Rest. Relax. Spend my money. What more do you have to do?”

“I want to do more than that. Be more than that. I’m not used to sitting around doing nothing.”

“You can try a little harder to get in touch with your cousin then.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “Tell her she needs to return. That you’re tired of being here with me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She liked being with him all too much.

“I’m going crazy with nothing to do.”

“Think of it as a holiday.” He glanced at his watch. “I must go.”

“Wait. You should eat something.”

“I don’t have time.” He cupped her face and crushed his lips to hers. The quick, passionate kiss stole her breath. Stole her senses. When he lifted his lips from hers, he frowned and tore the tie from her hair. It spilled around her shoulders. “I don’t like it pulled back like that.”

“Sometimes it gets in the way.”

“Do not pull it back when you are with me.”

Now he was telling her how to wear her hair? “I suppose I should cut it short, then it won’t get in my way and no one could mistake me for Birgitte.”

He gripped her shoulders and glowered at her. She thought he might shake her in his anger, but then he released his grasp and smoothed her hair gently. “You will not cut your hair as long as you are here with me. You will wear it down as long as you are here with me. Once you are gone you can do whatever you want to it.” Her heart pounded. She couldn’t say a word.

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