Undressed (2 page)

Chapter One

Holy Coco Chanel

Lex was almost there.

After ten hours, aboard two planes seated in economy and another four cramped in a reefer boat’s bow, she made out Isola di Girasoli in the distance. Salt water from the Mediterranean splashed her face as the boat dipped in a rhythmic motion. Focused on the tawny colored dot in the horizon, she didn’t care.

“
Signorina
, hold onto your seat. We’re pulling in to the harbor,” shouted the boat’s driver.

The ship glided to the dock and a still calm replaced the rocking sensation as the engines shut down.

Azimut yachts packed the bay, sleek in design. Each vessel sported bronzed, statuesque passengers sunning on the decks—nude. Talk about perfection.

“Fuuuck!” yelled a toned, tan, fit woman perched on the largest ship’s sun lounge in the inlet. She grabbed the shiny brass railing with her left hand holding on for dear life.

Oh no.
“HELP, somebody—get a doctor.” Lex shouted to the captain. “She’s having heat stroke.”

The captain laughed at Lex and ignored the woman.

“Fuck! Fuuck! Fuuuck!” Flipping her long black tresses from her face, the woman’s eyes didn’t say heart failure. Neither did the wide smile gracing her lips—or her panting tongue.

Lex realized there was no medical issue. Pupils dilated, red faced, heaving, she was exercising, cardio perhaps?

The woman squatted—up, then down, up, then down. But her movements weren’t Tai Chi, Yoga, or Zumba either.

WTF?

“
Sì, sì,
” moaned a man popping his head up from underneath her. He buried his face in her breasts pulling down her metallic bikini top exposing her distended coffee hued nipples. He cupped them. He sucked them. He pinched them.

Lex appreciated the woman was a screamer, riding cock, on a cruiser in the open waters for everyone on Isola di Girasoli to enjoy.
Happy to see someone’s gettin’ it
.

She glanced beyond the harbor to what had to be Prince Massimo Tittoni’s palace, built on a cliff and overlooking the sea. Majestic enough, the royal residence made the White House look like a quaint bed and breakfast.

“
Signorina
,
benvenuta
to Isola di Girasoli.” The captain smiled and placed her luggage on the wharf. He pointed at a narrow walkway and instructed, “You’ll follow the sidewalk up the winding road until you find a tall iron fence. It’s electric, so don’t touch. The prince has top security. You’ll see the gated entrance to the palazzo. They’ll buzz you in.”

After slipping him a tip, she collected her belongings on the pier and asked, “What time is your
last
fare returning to Sicily?”

“I sail back in two hours.
Bocca al lupo
,” he horned after her as she headed up the hill.

“Thank you for your good wishes.”
I’ll need it
. Two hours—was this enough time? The knots in her stomach tightened. As an Easton rule, Lex should never be nervous at introductions. Until her father’s death and family’s bankruptcy, her life had overflowed with opportunities to mingle with society’s influential trendsetters. Her mother had made partying a priority.

Today, at twenty-eight she’d lost her money, her status in society, and any entitlement that went along with it. Nowadays she fostered being humble, hard working and honest—she called them her three H’s. Those were her assets and she’d put them to good use.

Lex didn’t know how she’d be received at the palace. She never met the prince, though she’d seen his picture in the tabloids. In fact, she’d never admitted this to anyone, but she even masturbated to his photos once or twice, letting sensual lip and strong hand thoughts take her body on a few rare occasions. Okay—more than a few.

In the morning, she awoke hugging her purple body pillow pretending
he
slept with her. Alone, late at night, she touched herself imagining
he
came inside her. And on the weekends when taking a bubble bath, she envisioned having
him
scrubbing her back—hard. No other man came to mind.

From what she could tell, Massimo embodied Jake Gyllenhaal cute, David Beckham bodied and Johnny Depp hot.
People
magazine named the prince the sexiest bachelor, tagging him this generation’s John F. Kennedy, Jr. A rare male specimen, his face as perfect as any Renaissance sculpture created. The photographers loved snapping Massimo shots, often shirtless.

No man could have such good fortune and be endowed. The universe was never kind.
But she’d heard stories quite the contrary. And naked photos, leaked on several blogs last year showed him swimming with his sweet dimpled ass in the air and his yummy cock hanging low. His dick, subjected to gossip, was touted as large as an Evian bottle. The memory from those images made her pussy ache with need. She wondered if she could take him—Jake David Johnny JFK Jr. Evian bottle and all.

* * * * *

It’s the Taj Mahal.
The Tittoni’s estate entrance stood as she imagined—baroque in design, ornate in style, gaudy in size and gilded from top to bottom. An expansive stucco exterior didn’t intimidate her compared to the Park Avenue high rises Lex had lived in as a kid. It was the man inside who terrified her. The prince held her fate in his hands. At his whim, she could be relegated to poverty for a second time. It was one thing to rebuild once, but twice—impossible.

Pushing the intercom’s button, she tried to stand taller and licked her lips.
Here I flippin’ go.
A sweat bead ran down her neck, coming to rest between her breasts. The humidity increased by the second, causing her favorite yoga style pullover, a cream colored sheer jersey trimmed in chiffon she’d designed and titled “The Jet Setter,” to cling to her. It felt tight, shrinking. And her underwear rode up in places which hadn’t seen action in a long time. She should’ve at least worn a thong or maybe nothing at all. Why she’d sported her granny panties was anyone’s guess.

A small video screen embedded in the pillar to her left lit up. A man in a vest, no doubt a butler asked, “
Posso aiutarla
?” The voice came over again, “May I help you?”

She smiled, despite the man’s brisk tone. “Yes, thank you. I’m Lex Easton, here to see Prince Massimo Tittoni. I’m from Easton Essentials.”

Thin lips compressed together. The man released and divulged, “I’m sorry,
Signorina
Easton. His Majesty is on holiday until the fall season.”

Massimo told her he’d be here. She needed to talk to him. “I spoke with His Majesty yesterday over the phone. I came from New York—I
must
see him. Please!”

His eyes widened. “
Uno momento prego
, I will check,” he grumbled and the screen went blank.

“HEY—hello?” Was the butler going to leave her out in the blistering sun and salty ocean air to ripen akin to a blood orange? Her skin would peel at any minute.
This is hell.

An eternity passed and the gates opened. Then a tall figure walked down the main driveway.

“
Signorina
Easton, my name is Roberto. We spoke on the phone.
Benvenuta
to the palace of the Tittoni family.”

Much better. Lex breathed in relief as he extended his hand taking her roller bag. “I’m the estate manager. I live here on the island year round.”

In a tuxedo? How uncomfortable.
Wearing a black bow tie with matching cummerbund, he dressed similar to a waiter, perhaps one who served caviar at a five star restaurant.

“Is the prince able to meet with me? Did you tell him I’m here?”

“His Majesty is aware you’ve arrived. But he can’t see you right now. He’s out by the garden pool entertaining. He asks in the interim I give you a complete tour.”

“How kind, although I’m not sure we have time. I’ve got to make the last boat to the mainland. It leaves in two hours, but I would care to use your restroom and freshen up.” She looked around for the garden or a pool and didn’t see either. “Where is the pool?”

He eyed her without conviction and responded, “We have three pools, the Olympic sized indoor pool off the gymnasium. It’s used for calisthenics.” One long finger pointed south as he continued, “An ocean view pool with natural salt water for sunning, and my personal favorite.” He gave her a fake smile, “And the garden pool.” He stopped and stared at her. “It’s a nudist pool, for pleasure. His Majesty created it to resemble the Garden of Eden.”

“Nice to hear the prince lives up to his tabloid reputation. He gets publicity on his social activities.” She offered him a tight smile in return but felt a little guilty for being snarky. After all, she came here for business. She couldn’t let her mind wander about poolside pleasures.

“The prince instructed he will join you for dinner in the Tancredi wing’s formal dining room, on the main floor at sunset. He’s offered to put you up at a villa for the night. The windows face the sea. You’ll have Malta views. Farther out is Tunisia. We’re very isolated out here. You may sun and swim your day away.”

She hadn’t packed a swimsuit. She didn’t own one.

“Thank you, but I won’t be staying. I’ve rented a room in Sicily for the night. Tomorrow I fly to Milan for a work event. I need to meet with His Royal Highness and get my shipment cleared through customs from your factory.”

“
Sì
I’ll show you to your room. You may use the facilities as you requested.”

Lex nodded allowing Roberto to lead her through the grounds, passing row after row of exotic looking flowers. Their sweet smell, heightened by the island’s heat, made the air rich, intoxicating and heavy, resembling steeping dessert tea with sugarcane. Her senses awoke, turned on by a flowery smell. Pearl white dahlias, baby pink roses and amethyst lilac bushes reached for the sun’s rays, each blossom fuller than the other. In recent times, she felt she was those sweet flowers, reaching for the sky, ready to be plucked and enjoyed. But it hadn’t happened in god knew how long.

From somewhere behind the main manor, Lex heard high-pitched laughing. The direction remained unclear.

Those aren’t kiddies giggling.

“Here we are,
Signorina
Easton. You’re in the Plaza da Villa. A smaller guesthouse. If I’d known you planned on visiting, I would’ve prepared our larger quarters, on the south side.” He pushed the oak double doors open, allowing the sunlight to spill into the suite.

A “small villa” here could be a penthouse in the Big Apple. Its imperial design included a master bedroom with spa, two smaller bedrooms, and a sitting area with fireplace, dinette, and four balconies with panoramic seashore views. The eye catching suite dripped spectacular. How unfortunate she wouldn’t be staying long enough to enjoy its amenities. In any case, she loathed the beach. Pale as the moon, she didn’t care to show much skin.

She stepped into the lavish living area. “Roberto, I won’t be here long. I’ve taken up enough time, thank you.” She reached in her purse to pull out a tip but realized she’d given her last dollar to the boatman.

Offended by her attempt to compensate, Roberto informed her, “
Signorina
Easton, your generosity isn’t necessary. No gratuities at the palace. We are salaried royal employees to the House of Tittoni.”

“Oh.”
Well, excuuuse me, I didn’t get the House of Tittoni memo.

He glanced at his wristwatch. “The prince dines at eight. Stay in your quarters until sunset. Take a siesta, rest or sunbathe, but please be ready when I come for you at a quarter to.”

Frustrated that he still expected her to wait for the prince, Lex didn’t have any intentions to dine with the royal. “I told you, the last boat circles back in less than two hours.” Glancing at her father’s scratched Rolex hanging loose from her wrist, she croaked, “Correction, ninety minutes.” What was she thinking? She’d never make it. “I’ll meet with the prince
now
. I don’t mean to be rude, but I have no choice.”

“Hmm…” Motionless and nonresponsive, Roberto stood still.

“If you can’t show me where he swims, I’ll find my own way.”

There was a long pause as the butler deciphered how to respond to her demands. Then he put out, “
Signorina
Easton, I don’t think you’re being wise. Let me see if I can get His Majesty’s attention and have him come here.
Per favore
wait inside, I’ll ring your room in a few minutes with an update. If you need anything, press the zero on the bedroom phone. Good luck,
Signorina
Easton.”

“Thank you.” She settled as he closed her door.

After fourteen hours flying, boating and walking, she stood by herself. She put her luggage on the oversized bed, causing the plush satin cover to crinkle beneath its weight. Walking over to the sink, she splashed cold water on her face and checked her iPhone for messages.

Vive ranted on and on via a borderline soliloquy style text message, livid she didn’t receive an invite to go to Italy with Lex.

Lex figured her mother must’ve told Vive.
Uhhh, everyone in Manhattan will know where I am by today’s end.
She texted, “call U LTR xo.”

Five minutes turned to fifteen and then to thirty. With less than an hour to get to the boat she grew panicked. Lex reached for the phone and rang for Roberto. No answer. She’d have to take fate into her own hands and go find the prince. The go out and get ’em approach worked for her life’s mantra. She hoped this wouldn’t be a fashion battle and asked herself if she was ready?
Absofrickinlutely.
Lex pulled her sunglasses over her eyes and opened the door.
It’s time to get my fashion designer phalanges on what I came for.