Scandals Of The Famous: The Scandalous Princess

He’d dumped her on the floor. He’d pushed her away from him as if she disgusted him. It had been an instinctive response, one borne of self-protection and even fear. He’d had his moments of weakness exploited all too often. A tear-streaked face at four years old. Sullen and alone at twelve. The agony of his knee injury at sixteen. The paparazzi had captured every moment of emotional vulnerability and anguish he’d ever experienced and plastered them across their papers so the whole world had seen. So his mother had seen, and been heartbroken. Oldest Jackson misses his Daddy. Another Jackson Disappoints. Ben Jackson’s Dreams Shattered.

He’d lived through it all, and he would not do so again. He’d spent his life, his whole damn life, trying to live a quiet life, worthy of respect and out of the glare of the media. Trying to give the Jackson name the respect it had once earned. He’d thought he could have done it with football, but when that failed—when he failed—he did it with business. All along he’d wanted to make a difference, to change the way people thought about his family, and in one sordid moment he could have ruined it all. That’s what had gone through his head in a lightning-flash of fear when the cockpit had suddenly blazed with light. And while his history might have justified the fear, it certainly didn’t excuse the way he’d just treated Natalia.

He’d been foolish, he supposed, to have taken her out at all, and yet even so he couldn’t regret it. He’d wanted to be with her … and he still did.

Even now he wanted her, and not just physically, although that was certainly foremost in his mind. He wanted to apologise, explain why he was so afraid, and not just of the press, Ben realised in a rush of painful self-recrimination. Maybe that was just an easy excuse. He was afraid of himself. Afraid of losing control, of letting himself go because heaven only knew when Natalia was in his arms his whole world spun on its axis. Natalia had been right; he didn’t like feeling weak and helpless and out of control. He hated it.

You’re afraid of being afraid.

He pulled up to the palazzo and put on the emergency brake, turning to look at Natalia, to say something, but she’d already opened the door, her face angled away from him. ‘Natalia …’

She turned to him with one of her old mocking smiles, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. His wasn’t either. ‘Thank you for an evening that was full of surprises,’ she said, and without waiting for a reply, she waggled her fingers in farewell and then disappeared into the palazzo.

Ben cursed aloud.

Thank goodness it was the weekend. She didn’t have to see Ben for two whole days. Maybe, Natalia hoped, knowing it was futile, she’d have put the whole sorry episode behind her by Monday morning. Maybe she’d have forgotten it completely, or at least stopped remembering the sweet slide of his lips against hers every second of the day.

The weekend was endless. She thought about him constantly, wondered what he was thinking. Feeling. Wearing, even. She felt like a teenager with a first crush, except she’d never felt like this as a teen. This was deeper, darker, more dangerous, and yet infinitely sweeter too, and that made it all the more painful.

She relived the moment he’d pushed her away from him over and over again. He’d acted out of instinct, which made it worse. He’d been desperate to distance himself and the thought hurt more than it should. It shouldn’t hurt at all; it had just been a kiss.

A lot more than a kiss, Natalia acknowledged grimly. A lot more than even just sex. Her heart was involved; she felt it twist and splinter, jagged shards of disappointment digging into her soul. This was why she didn’t believe in true love. This was why she didn’t get involved with men she could care about. Until Ben.

How had he done it? Why had she let him?

On Saturday evening she’d broken down and rung Carlotta. She needed to talk to someone, someone who knew