Scandals Of The Royals: Princess From the Shadows

CHAPTER SIX (#ud8600cf7-975b-5c5e-a579-a86ae2d7d58a)

SEXY didn’t begin to describe Carlotta in that black lace gown. It should be illegal. Or they should be alone in one of the expansive bedrooms of the palace, with nothing but free time and an enormous bed at their disposal.

Instead, they were in a crowded ballroom, people everywhere. Normally he enjoyed parties. They were fun, shallow diversions that allowed him to block everything out and focus on nothing but easy, happy things.

Now it was grating his nerves. Because too many people meant he had to behave himself. He wasn’t just the rebel prince anymore, he was the future king. He always had been, he knew, but it had all been distant and murky, and he’d been in no hurry to move back into the palace. Back to the source of his darkest moments.

Well, the reprieve was over. Which was how he found himself here, at a party for an octogenarian he’d never met, keeping his hands off of his ultra-desirable fiancée.

“I used to hate these things.” Carlotta leaned in, ruby lips brushing his earlobe as she whispered to him. “What’s the deal with putting all the food on toothpicks? And honestly, room-temperature shrimp sitting on a tray for five hours?”

He choked a laugh out through his tightened throat. “I can’t argue with that.”

“I used to hate them,” she said. “But now it’s been so long since I’ve been out, I’m finding it really enjoyable.”

“What about your brother’s engagement party?”

She blinked. “That was … interesting. And stressful. I can kind of see why it made Sophia run off, no offense.”

Oh, yes, Sophia. His original intended bride. She never even crossed his mind. It didn’t seem right, the thought of another woman standing at his side now.

“None taken,” he said, shaking his head when a passing server offered him a shrimp cocktail.

“It was sort of fun watching the Jacksons. They don’t care what anyone thinks. It’s kind of … refreshing.”

“You think?”

She looked at him, green eyes glittering. “I care too much. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be who I thought I should be. So yes, it’s easy to envy people who clearly haven’t got a care in the world about their image.”

“Unlike the people here.” He surveyed the room, filled with stuffed shirts and black, conservative gowns. “I wonder if any of them have secret lives?”

“Don’t we all?” she asked.

“Well, we don’t. Hard to keep secrets when the press follows you all the time.”

“True. Anyway, I like the dress. I’m sorry I fought with you earlier.”

“I like the dress too.” He’d like it better pooled into a puddle of black lace on his floor, but he would take what he could get.

What was it about her that captivated him? Had he really thought her plain only a few days ago? He hadn’t been paying attention, clearly. With her dark hair pulled back into sleek bun, her curves emphasized by the fitted dress, olive skin visible in teasing amounts through the lace and the perfect amount of makeup to highlight her features, she was nothing short of stunning.

“You look beautiful,” he said, because that was the kind of thing he said to women. But … he meant it. He always meant it, but usually he was performing a seduction. Words, then touch, then bed. But at the moment, he simply felt it was important for Carlotta to know.

Carlotta didn’t want to feel anything when he said that. She knew how men worked. She’d fallen prey to easy lines like that in the past. So she really shouldn’t be feeling a rush of heat spreading through her. No flush of pleasure, no rapid heartbeat.

She did though. Because Rodriguez was charming. There was a reason women swooned straight into his bed when he smiled at them. He was hot. And she was celibate.

But she wasn’t stupid.

“Thank you,” she said tightly.

“You don’t like compliments?” he asked.

“I don’t like insincere compliments.”

“I was sincere.”

“I … That’s not really what I meant.”

A smiling woman whose face looked like it had been frozen into a permanently surprised expression approached them with her shorter, older husband on her arm. She spoke in rapid Spanish to Rodriguez, and Carlotta could only catch half of it.

“Your new fiancée?” she asked, flashing a smile that showed unnaturally white teeth.

“Sì,” Carlotta said, accepting the other woman’s double-cheek kiss.

“Muy bonita!” she said.

Rodriguez shot her a look. “I did tell you. Though perhaps you will take Señora Ramirez’s word for it?”

Carlotta returned his look with a deadly one of her own before turning her attention back to Señora Ramirez. “Gracias.”

The señora kept talking and Rodriguez translated when Carlotta didn’t understand.

“She wants to know when the wedding is,” he said, a question in his tone, as if he were wondering the same thing.

“Tell her we’re in no hurry.” Carlotta looked beyond Rodriguez and felt her heart sink into her stomach.

“I’m in a hurry,” he said, his voice hushed, his hand snaking around her waist, palm resting on her hip.

She cleared her throat. “Well, after my brother Alex gets married maybe …”

That set Señora Ramirez off into a flurry of excited chatter, about invitations and gowns and two royal weddings, how exciting! Her husband just stood next to her, his expression blank.

If Carlotta weren’t so overwhelmed, she would probably be fighting back laughter over the poor man’s plight. Her own parents were so suitably matched. Both so stoic and regal … well, stoic in public at least. She knew what it looked like when her father was angry. Angry beyond words.

Now she was wishing she’d taken the last passing server up on his offer of room-temperature champagne….

“Ah, bailar.” Señor Ramirez spoke for the first time as strains of classical music filled the ballroom.

“I think I am needed now,” Señora Ramirez said. “You should dance too.” She turned to her husband and the look of pure, undisguised love that passed between them made Carlotta feel like she’d been hit in the chest with a rock.

The way they looked at each other … it told her what she didn’t want to believe. That not everyone was cold in their marriage, like her parents. That not everyone lied, like Gabriel. That there was love and happiness.

It would just never belong to her.

You have Luca. That’s real love. Permanent love.

“Care to dance, princesa?” Rodriguez turned a devastating grin her direction.