The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One) (14 page)

“Oh, right. Well, I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to you, but Elisa would rather not wear a dress to the ball and the…your, um, wedding. I’ve been trying to redesign the gown concept I’d come up with for her into something that will make both you and her happy, but it’s not going so well. Turns out they don’t teach you how to design pantsuits for princesses at design school.”

“Our Elisa isn’t just any princess. She’s going to change the world.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Maggie made a face. “She might get there sooner if you told her to stop fighting your battles in the schoolyard.”

“What?” Nico had said something about a fight, but not that it had been about him.

“Apparently she clocked some kid for talking trash about you. She didn’t seem to care that it was probably true.”

“I’m sure it was.” Salvy felt tired all of a sudden. It had been a long week. “To be honest, she can wear whatever she wants. I don’t care.”

“All well and good, but I suspect the King—and your brother—would like her to look like part of the family and not some ragamuffin pulled in from the streets to shine shoes.” She sighed and turned back to a fresh piece of paper, picking up a pencil and toying with it between her fingers. “She should look royal, and gorgeous, but also like
her
, you know?”

Salvy couldn’t help himself, then. He moved and stood at her back, leaning over to put a hand on the table so he could see her newest sketch.
 

He felt her sharp intake of breath as his chest brushed her back, and resisted the urge to press closer. It had been so long since he’d wanted anyone in a meaningful way, but sitting here, having a conversation or helping her figure out details of Elisa’s clothes, felt almost as nice as getting her naked.
 

Odd, but kind of refreshing.

“How about something sort of Indian inspired? Rich colors and fabrics, but long pants?”

“Like the Bollywood girls?” She started swiping her pencil over the paper, no longer bothered by his nearness.
 

Salvy took advantage and breathed her in, watching her work like she was Picasso as he stood in the stillness she created. He hadn’t been still in years, he realized now, which was a funny thing to think. His father would say the opposite, as would the millions of people who gobbled up “news” from the gossip sites around the world, but shirking one’s duties and truly standing in a moment with no desire to leave it were two different things.
 

Time passed. He gave suggestions here and there, taking every opportunity to lean closer, to let her hair brush his arm, to pretend they were going back to his house together after this. The image filled in—a lush, sky blue satin covered with cherry tree vines that burst into green leaves and pink blossoms across the loose fitted pants and the matching top, the barest hint of belly showing where it scraped the high waist of the bottoms.

“What do you think?” she asked him, looking up so that their faces hung inches apart. Excitement littered her eyes with stars.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, not taking his gaze from her face. Unable to stop himself, even though he knew she would understand that he wasn’t talking about the picture, but about her, and that he was already breaking the promises made to himself so recently.

“Salvy…”

Her eyes fluttered like they wanted to close and it would have been so easy to lean in, to catch her lips with his and kiss her until neither of them could stand. He wanted her so badly he could taste it, and instinct said she might not resist. He wanted to grab her and set her on the table, undressing her one button at a time until her body was bared to him.

The image taunted him, but for the first time in his life, the reality of the days to come stopped him from plucking the blossom in front of him. He couldn’t do that to her, not to Maggie. In less than three weeks he would be someone else’s husband, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure he would be able to walk away from her a second time.

Salvy gathered his self-control and leaned in, pressing a kiss to her smooth, warm forehead. “I know, Moo Moo. I’m going.”

Her gaze filled with surprise, disappointment, and relief in equal measure. It told him that he’d made the right decision. The last thing he wanted was for any feelings Magdalena had for him, or he for her, to prevent her from being happy in her own life.
 

“Goodnight, Your Highness.”

“
Bona sera
. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Ten

Magdalena

The memory of last night, of how she’d made an idiot of herself waiting for Salvadore, the fucking crowned prince of Cielo, to kiss her, played on a loop in her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at her as if he wanted to devour her, the way her heart hammered and she’d gone shaky and wet under the intensity of his gaze.

How he’d backed off and merely said goodnight.
 

At least one of them had some self-control, but it bothered her beyond belief that he had been the one to exhibit it in that moment. Salvy, who slept with any good-looking woman who crossed his path, had declined what basically amounted to an open invitation.

Maybe it should have pleased her, that he had taken her seriously when she’d said she wasn’t a plaything, that she wasn’t like all of those other women. For some reason, it only made her feel sixteen and discarded, again.
 

“Maggie, would you pay attention? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re breaking and entering, and I’d really like to go through these files and get the hell out of here,” Brigida snapped from the semi-darkness on the other side of the small office suite.

“Sorry,” Magdalena whispered back. They’d been in Matrigna’s offices for ten minutes, but most of the boxes contained just office supplies. Or nothing at all.

She moved to the desk, shivering in the cold, dank space. Her breath plumed out in front of her face in frosty clouds and her fingers were so stiff it took her three tries to pry open the file cabinet drawer. They must not have the heat going at night.

“Thank God,” she murmured, spotting a space heater beneath the desk. She flicked it on and positioned it so it blew on her shins as she managed to get the drawer open.
 

The files were empty. All of them.
 

“Dammit.”

Maggie shoved the drawers shut and went to Brigida’s side, helping her paw through the remaining boxes. They found nothing but a few bills, all using the same address as this office. Whoever was running Matrigna was going to great lengths to ensure their identity remained hidden, which Magdalena thought was interesting in and of itself. Cielo was a small place; surely there were only a few people with the resources to buy up so much land.

“I have a hard time believing the crown isn’t aware of who’s behind this. Or that they don’t care that they’re soon going to be the second biggest landholders in the country,” Brigida murmured, closing the last box and turning off her flashlight app.

Maggie did the same, stuffing her phone in her purse. Frustration that they’d taken this risk and turned up nothing but a bunch of good questions balled between her shoulders, but at the same time, something about Brigida’s observations triggered her.

She stood still for a moment, breathing in the darkness, waiting for whatever it was to struggle to the surface.

“What?” Brigida asked. “Did you have an idea or should we get the hell out of here?”

“We can go.” Maggie sighed, glancing over the useless room one more time. “I was just thinking…what if the King
does
know who’s behind the land buyouts. And that’s the reason he’s deciding not to get involved.”

They slipped into the hallway, their voices lowering accordingly.
 

Brigida locked the door behind them. “You mean, like he’s the one doing it?”

Maggie shrugged. “Or one of his lackeys. Maybe Nico?”

She winced at the suggestion. It could as easily be Salvy or Luca, or maybe someone else entirely, but it made sense, that the royal family would seize an opportunity to cement their position of power.

“Do you really think so?” The expression on Brigida’s face was dubious. “You know them. You’ve always had nice things to say about both King Alfonso and Prince Niccolo. You really think they would stoop to blackmail to push people out of their homes? Why?”

Magdalena’s shoulders slumped as they found their way to the street. She breathed a sigh of relief at having gotten away unscathed, and admitted to herself that Brigida was right. King Alfonso was a good, gentle king. He treated the citizens of Cielo like a parent treats dutiful, charming children, and she’d never had any reason to believe Nico wasn’t set to follow in his footsteps. Salvy wouldn’t want land—it was worth money, but he had plenty of that, and he’d made it clear he had no interest in putting down roots so close to home.

Which left Luca. If he was the one buying up the land and the King knew about it, Maggie didn’t think he would stand idly by—quite the opposite. Luca had been a thorn in the royal family’s side since, well, as long as anyone could remember.

A stab of fear went through her at the thought of his threats a few days ago in the studio. If he thought he could use her friendship with Salvy to upset the family, he would do it. If he figured ousting her father as the royal tailor would have the same effect, Magdalena knew he would have no trouble pulling the trigger.

Which meant she had to be careful. For her father, for her future, and for herself.

“You’re right,” she told Brigida, trying to smile. “I guess we’re back to square one. Tell the others that we can give up the stakeouts. We’re not going to find anything here.”

Her friend’s eyebrows went up. “You’re not coming?”

“No. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow and ten more after that. I should get back to the castle.”

“We’ll keep you updated if we hear anything, or come up with any brilliant ideas before we all give into the pressure and end up homeless.”

“Thanks.” Maggie didn’t feel like giving her friend’s sarcasm the smile it deserved.

She didn’t feel like smiling at all.

A few days passed without incident. The early preparations—measuring the staff, ordering fabric, and starting to stitch together outlines for the hundreds of costumes that would be required—got underway. Salvy stopped by at least twice a day but he’d never caught her alone.
 

Magdalena couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed about the last part, but she liked having him in and out, a part of her day the way he hadn’t been in years. She enjoyed the familiar heat of his body as it lingered over her shoulder or at her side while she sketched and measured, and the way he asked questions about her work as if he actually cared about fashion.

She was alone in the workroom now. It was late, after midnight, and her neck was aching from bending over the sewing machine for the last three hours straight. The last thing on today’s agenda was to start Camilla’s dress, though Maggie struggled to understand why she felt inclined to do such a thing in the first place. Camilla was sour, superficial, snotty, and a bunch of other things Maggie had never enjoyed. She’d been Barty’s friend and had somehow latched on to the rest of them, even though no one else in the group came close to her slight social standing.
 

Imagined or not, that speck of noble blood makes her eligible to marry Salvadore. Maybe you’re jealous.

Maybe she
was
jealous, and that was why she’d agreed to make a dress for a girl she disliked.

The rest of the staff had gone to bed, but Maggie’s mind was on overdrive and she hadn’t even taken a break for dinner, which was unlike her.
 

A creak from behind her, along with the soft padding of footsteps, called her attention away from her sewing machine. Maggie turned, soft delight striking her in the chest at the sight of Salvadore striding across the room. He looked handsome but relaxed, wearing a pair of jeans and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
 

“Hey,” he greeted her, his dimpled smile enough to make the strongest woman in the world go weak in the knees.