Bride Fit for a Prince

Letting go of the breath she’d been holding she said, “You had me brought to this apartment under false pretenses. I won’t be seeing the prince until the wedding, will I.”

“Now you’re catching on, as you Americans are fond of saying.”

He must have spent a lot of time around someone from the States. How she’d love to wipe that triumphant expression from his good-looking face.

There was no way she would be a victim if she could help it. An idea for escape had just come to her. If it didn’t work, then she’d try something else.

“Since you leave me with no choice but to surrender, how about granting this condemned prisoner one last favor before her execution tomorrow?”

His white smile was so unexpected and electrifying, her heart almost jumped out of her body. “Short of asking for a reprieve, your wish is my command, signorina.”

“You mean that?” She infused a little trembling into her question to reveal a deceptive combination of fear and humility.

“Try me and find out.”

“Could we go on that ride around the city you promised me earlier?”

“Of course. I’ll arrange for the limousine.”

“No—I mean on your motorcycle.”

A strange quiet filled the room. It pleased her that her request was the last thing he’d expected to be asked.

“In a movie I once rented, this American woman rode on the back of this guy’s motorcycle while they toured Naples. It looked so fun the way he maneuvered them through the narrow streets and alleys. They were able to go exciting places a car wouldn’t fit.”

He rubbed his jaw absently. “Torino’s a northern city of long parkways, gardens, promenades and right angles, signorina.”

Before she averted her eyes, she purposely let out a deep sigh he couldn’t help hearing.

“It’s all right, Nicco. I understand. Really I do,” she said in the way she might speak to a small child.

After a suspicious pause, “What is it you think you understand?”

Good. She’d piqued his curiosity, just as she’d hoped.

“That your responsibility is to protect me until tomorrow.”

“And?” he bit out impatiently. When she looked at him again, his eyes glittered with an unfathomable light.

“I should have realized you don’t feel confident enough to show me the sights on your bike without having an accident. You could have just told me the truth, but I forgot your pride. I understand the Italian male’s is more inflated than that of the other men of the world.”

He had no idea how much satisfaction it gave her to say that to him.

A sardonic smile broke out on his lips. “If anything, I was trying to protect your female sensibilities. You would have to cling to me like you were my second skin,” he said in a husky tone, leaving her in no doubt what he was thinking.

“However if that’s your heart’s desire, far be it from me to deny Prince Enzo’s lovely fiancée her final request.”

Again she looked away, thrilled to realize she’d accomplished her first objective. But she wasn’t going to fool herself that obtaining her second goal would be as easy to achieve.

“The bathroom is down that hallway on the right. Feel free to freshen up while I find his helmet for you to wear.”

She made a show of frowning. “But in the movie, the woman didn’t wea—”

“Forget the film.” He broke in without hesitation. “If, God forbid, something unforeseen should happen while we’re out riding, I would never forgive myself if you suffered an injury. Prince or no prince.”

He stood there with his hands on his hips, his appeal so virile and potent, her body trembled when she thought of being plastered against him.

“If you’ve changed your mind, signorina…”

Now he was baiting her, expecting her to back down.

“No. I’ll be ready in a moment.”

“That’s good. We have very little daylight left.”

She headed for the hallway on unsteady legs. That was the effect he had on her.

Valentino followed. She knew he was standing guard outside the bathroom door because she could hear him snoring. He sounded just like her own dog, reminding her how much she missed Chloe.

When she was ready and reached the foyer, Nicco was waiting for her with a helmet under his arm, another black one in his hand.

He rapped out something in Italian to the boxer who immediately took a sitting position. Then he opened the door.

“After you,” he said to Callie, indicating she should exit first. She retraced their steps to the outside of the apartment building. By the time she approached his cycle, he’d already put on his helmet.

Up close she could read the name of the model. It was called a Danelli NT-1 super bike.

“How much does something like this cost?”

“In lira or dollars?” he drawled.

“Dollars.”

“Upward of $150,000 or more.”

Even more than she’d thought. “For a down-and-out prince, he must pay you a hefty salary to afford this.”

Ignoring her comment, he lowered the other helmet over her head and fastened the chin strap. His piercing black eyes trapped hers briefly before he moved to drop the rear foot pegs.

While she stood there in a daze, he threw his leg over the seat and straddled his bike. Once he’d started the powerful engine, he turned toward her.

“When you get on, place your feet on the pegs and wrap your arms around my waist, interlocking your fingers. That’s all you have to do.” He lowered his shield and waited.

From the second she’d laid eyes on Nicco, she’d known he was a dangerous man. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d get anywhere near a motorcycle like his, let alone ride on one. She bet it could reach over a hundred miles per hour in less than ten seconds. To feel that kind of lightning acceleration was going to be thrilling.

Heavens—if it weren’t for the ghastly trouble Ann had gotten herself into, Callie would be having the time of her life.

Her heart pounded outrageously as she watched him pull in the clutch and put the bike in gear. He was impatient to go, letting her know it was now or never.