Secret Prince's Christmas Seduction

The concierge, Pino, who had this morning suggested a running route: wise.

His assessments were rapid, and seldom wrong, and as he looked over to the maid he recalled asking her name that first morning. That morning he had not been able to sum her up in one word.

Admittedly, he had been concussed, and not at his best, but today he was much better. So he looked at those sad eyes, and, no, he still could not isolate that word.

Their conversation paused, and yet it did not end, for instead of heading out of the balcony and down the private steps to the grounds below he watched as, having made the bed, she headed to an occasional table, where she picked up her notepad and ticked off her list.

‘So you are training as a therapist?’

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Although I’m not allowed to be let loose unsupervised on the guests yet. Well, I can give manicures, but that is all.’

‘I loathe manicures.’

There were two types of men who had manicures, Antonietta had learnt. Those who chose to and those who had been born to. He had been born to, she was quite, quite sure.

She resisted the urge to walk over and examine his hands, but instead looked down at them... Yes, they were exquisite, long-fingered, with very neat, beautifully manicured nails.

‘I find sitting there boring.’

‘Then why bother?’ Antonietta asked, and then pulled back the conversation. ‘I’m sorry—that was personal.’

‘Not at all,’ Rafe said. ‘I ask myself the same thing.’

‘You could always listen to a podcast while your nails are being done,’ Antonietta suggested.

‘Ah, but then I wouldn’t get to speak with you.’

It was a silly little joke but she smiled.

The girl with the saddest eyes smiled, and when she did she looked glorious, Rafe thought. Her black eyes sparkled and her full red lips revealed very white teeth. She had a beautiful mouth, Rafe thought, and watched it as she responded to his light jest.

‘I would not be allowed to treat a guest in the August Suite.’

He was about to say What a pity, but he rather sensed that that would have her scuttling behind the wall she had erected, which was just starting to inch down.

She rather fascinated him, and it was a relief to focus on their gentle conversation rather than deal with the problems he must face. He had intended to go for a run, just to clear his head. Yet instead he carried on chatting as she worked her way through the suite.

‘You grew up here?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I left a few years ago.’

‘For how long?’

‘Five years,’ Antonietta said. ‘And though it was wonderful, I came to realise that you cannot drift for ever. Home is home—though it is very different now, and the hotel has changed things. There are more people, more work...’

‘Is that why you came back?’

‘No,’ Antonietta said, and cut that line of conversation stone-cold dead.

It usually took an hour and fifteen minutes to service the suite to standard. Today it took a little longer, although they did not talk non-stop, just made gentle conversation as Antonietta got on with her work, diligently ticking off items in turn to ensure that nothing had been missed.

‘Do you have family here?’ Rafe asked, curious despite himself.

‘Yes.’

Again she closed the topic, and headed into the lounge and dining area. There had been no fire lit last night, and no meal taken, but she dusted the gleaming table, then topped up the cognac decanter and replaced the glasses.

Tick.

He was leaning on the doorframe, watching her. Usually to have a guest watching her so overtly would be unsettling, yet it didn’t feel that way with Rafe. She found him relaxing. Oh, her heart was in her throat, and beating way too fast, but that was for other reasons entirely.

She liked it that he did not demand elaboration. So much so that as she put the stopper in the decanter she revealed to him a little of her truth.

‘We are not really speaking.’

‘That must be hard.’

‘Yes.’

The candles in the heavy candelabra were new, and didn’t need replacing.

Tick.

She checked that the lighter worked.

Tick.

But she paused for a moment and wondered how used to luxury he must be not to light them each night. Not to need the stunning suite bathed in candle and firelight.

‘The August Suite is my favourite,’ Antonietta admitted. ‘You should use these candles. I am sure it would look beautiful.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘I mean...’ She was flustered, for she was not used to idle conversation. ‘I’ve always wondered what it must look like.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Rafe said again, and this time she flushed. ‘Which is your favourite view?’ he asked.

‘The one from the dining room. From there you can see the valley.’

‘Show me.’

As easily as that, he joined her at the window.

‘When I left,’ Antonietta said, ‘that whole stretch of valley was black and scorched from wild fires.’ She pointed to a large clearing atop a hillside. ‘My family’s property is up there.’

‘Was it razed in the fires?’

‘No, the fires stopped short of Silibri, but in the next village, where I also have family, there was a lot of damage. It’s hard now to remember that it was so dead and black. I came back in spring, for Nico and Aurora’s wedding, and the whole valley was a riot of colour. I have never seen it so alive. I find the view soothing. It reminds me that, as terrible as the fires were, they were good for the land.’