THE
SANTINA CROWN

Royalty has never been so scandalous!

STOP PRESS—Crown Prince in shock marriage

The tabloid headlines …

When HRH Crown Prince Alessandro of Santina proposes to paparazzi favourite Allegra Jackson it promises to be the social event of the decade

—outrageous headlines guaranteed!

The salacious gossip …

Mills & Boon invites you to rub shoulders with royalty, sheikhs and glamorous socialites. Step into the decadent playground of the world’s rich and famous …

THE SANTINA CROWN

THE PRICE OF ROYAL DUTY – Penny Jordan

THE SHEIKH’S HEIR – Sharon Kendrick

THE SCANDALOUS PRINCESS – Kate Hewitt

THE MAN BEHIND THE SCARS – Caitlin Crews

DEFYING THE PRINCE – Sarah Morgan

PRINCESS FROM THE SHADOWS – Maisey Yates

THE GIRL NOBODY WANTED – Lynn Raye Harris

PLAYING THE ROYAL GAME – Carol Marinelli

Ben stared at her for a moment, long enough to make her lose her edge of defiance and start to squirm. Or at least want to squirm. Thankfully she remained quite still. ‘Are you always this pleasant?’ he finally enquired.

‘No, I’m not,’ Natalia told him. ‘You happened to catch me at a good moment.’

He let out a dry chuckle, surprising her. So Ben Jackson possessed a sense of humour. A small one.

‘I shudder at the thought of catching you at a bad one,’ he told her, and his voice was low and honeyed enough to slide right over her senses.

Natalia knew she had been rather rude to him, but only because she’d felt so defensive. As soon as she’d met Ben Jackson he’d examined and dismissed her, all in the space of a few minutes. She’d spent a long time perfecting her air of polished, jaded sophistication, and she didn’t like someone like Ben blowing it. Seeing right through it. Laughing at her.

‘Shudder away,’ she told him. ‘Somehow I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.’

About the Author

KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon® romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen, and she’s continued to read them ever since.

She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately, they’ve become a bit more detailed as she’s grown older.

She has written plays, short stories, and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling, and learning to knit.

After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother’s childhood friend—she lived in England for six years and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children, and the possibility of one day getting a dog.

Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website, www.kate-hewitt.com.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE DARKEST OF SECRETS

KHOLODOV’S LAST MISTRESS

MR AND MISCHIEF (The Powerful and the Pure)

Did you know these are also available as eBooks?

Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The
Santina Crown

The Scandalous Princess

Kate Hewitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Meg Lewis and Anna Boatman,

who helped me see this book through to the very end! Many thanks,

Kate

CHAPTER ONE

‘NOW there, at least, is a Jackson who has bettered himself.’

Princess Natalia Santina glanced at her mother, whose arctic tone belied what had sounded like a compliment. Queen Zoe’s eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed together in disapproval. Her usual look then. Natalia turned to see who was the subject of her mother’s grudging praise. Her gaze moved through the crowd of well-heeled guests who had come to the engagement party of her older brother Alessandro and his unexpected fiancée, Allegra, daughter of British tabloid fodder and ex-footballer Bobby Jackson, to finally rest on Ben Jackson, Allegra’s older brother and self-made millionaire. Not that the money made a difference to her mother. Anyone, she liked to say with a sniff, could make money. Breeding was what mattered.

After all, the fiancé who had thankfully just broken Natalia’s own engagement—Prince Michel of the small mountain principality of Montenavarre—hadn’t had much money. He’d claimed Natalia had possessed impossibly expensive tastes, which was undoubtedly true for him. Prince Michel might be second in line to the throne but he was practically penniless, and in any case Natalia had no intention of spending her life in some draughty castle in the Alps, listening to her husband go on and on about his country’s tediously noble history.

The question of just how she intended to spend her life remained, as yet, unanswered. For the moment Natalia was simply glad to enjoy her reprieve from matrimony. Nothing in her experience so far had recommended it.

Now her own gaze narrowed as she took in Ben Jackson’s powerful form. He was dressed in a well-cut grey silk business suit, his tie a sober navy, his movement restrained and precise as he chatted to another guest. Unlike his father, whose flashy tie, booming voice and expansive gestures proclaimed new money like nothing else could, Ben Jackson was the epitome of understated male elegance. Queen Zoe, Natalia had noticed with a stab of amusement, had held out only two fingers for Bobby Jackson to shake and flinched visibly when he’d lavishly kissed her hand instead.

‘What does Ben Jackson do exactly?’ she asked her mother, who stiffened at the vulgarity of such a question. Natalia knew you weren’t supposed to ask what people did, because of course people of class didn’t do anything. Not for money. Queen Zoe didn’t even like to mention the successful business ventures of her own son and heir to the throne. Sometimes Natalia wondered if her mother had stepped from the pages of a Victorian novel, or even a time machine. Her attitudes certainly did not belong to this century.

‘He’s an entrepreneur, as far as I can tell,’ Zoe said stiffly. ‘Something in finance.’

How boring, Natalia thought, even as she eyed the oldest Jackson with undisguised feminine appreciation. The set of his shoulders underneath the tailored grey silk was impressive indeed. He lifted one long-fingered hand to make a point, his blazing eyes and set mouth creating an expression, Natalia decided, of controlled enthusiasm. He felt deeply, but he didn’t want anyone to know. She’d always been good at reading expressions, and gauging a person’s attitude. It had certainly helped her through twelve years of incomprehensible education, when often the curve of a mouth or lift of an eyebrow was the only clue as to whether she’d got it right or wrong.

‘Who is he talking to?’ she asked her mother. ‘Ben Jackson, I mean?’

Her mother sighed with the kind of weary disappointment Natalia was long used to. ‘He’s talking to the minister of culture and tourism,’ she told her, ‘which you would know, if you professed any interest in or duty to the country of your birth and family.’

Natalia did not reply. She knew her mother was really referring to her recently broken engagement. Both her parents had wanted her off their hands and out of the country. At twenty-seven, happily unmarried and with a rather active social life, she was an embarrassment to the royal family. At least this time it was by choice.

‘You’re right, Mother,’ Natalia said with as much docility as she could muster. ‘I should be familiar with Santina’s ministers. I suppose I’ll have to remedy that immediately.’

And with a suggestive sway of her hips, she sauntered over to where Ben Jackson was still looking intriguingly … passionate.

The word slid slyly into her mind. Ben Jackson didn’t look like a passionate man. The shoulders were impressive, yes, but everything about the man from his sober suit to his close-cut brown hair said restrained. Controlled. Boring, even. A man who guarded his passions—if he had them at all—carefully.

‘Princess Natalia!’ The minister of culture and tourism inclined his head in a nod as Natalia approached. She smiled, reaching out to shake his hand.

‘Minister. How lovely to see you again.’ The minister blinked, and Natalia wished she’d thought to ask the man’s name before she’d come over. It would have added a nice touch.

‘Likewise, Your Highness,’ the minister responded after a pause, and still smiling, Natalia turned to Ben Jackson. Up close he wasn’t quite so boring. His body radiated a certain leashed power, and despite his aura of restrained wealth and prestige, Natalia still felt an undercurrent of cynical wariness that intrigued her. He might have risen far on his own, but he hadn’t left the boy behind. But then, you could never really leave behind the child you’d been … even if you wanted to. Desperately.

His eyes were blue, navy like his tie, and now they were narrowed not in admiration or even assessment but … amusement, Natalia realised with an icy pang of shock. He was laughing at her. The thought caused a stab of irritation to knife through her. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand it was to be laughed at. The butt of someone’s silent joke. It had happened too many times before.

‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,’ she said, switching from Italian to English. She held out her hand, and Ben Jackson’s mouth flicked upwards at one corner, the faintest of mocking smiles.

‘Not formally,’ he agreed, ‘although I know you are one of the Santina princesses, and you undoubtedly know I am a Jackson.’ He took her fingers in his own for the most cursory of handshakes, but Natalia was still left with an impression of latent strength.

‘Ah, but which Jackson?’ she replied with a lift of her brows. ‘There are so very many of you.’

Ben Jackson narrowed his gaze, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Natalia gave him a bland smile back. She would not be anyone’s amusement. Not ever again. If she amused, it would be by choice, not because of what she could—or couldn’t—do.

‘And there are quite a few Santinas as well,’ he replied in as bland a tone as her smile. ‘Large families are such blessings, aren’t they?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Natalia murmured, although she’d hardly call her large family a blessing. Their relationships were too fractured and distant for that. Save for her twin sister, Carlotta, Natalia didn’t feel particularly close to anyone in her family, and certainly not her parents. Yet knowing what she did of Bobby Jackson’s clan, she didn’t think Ben thought his family such a blessing either.

The minister of tourism and culture had excused himself with a murmur, and Natalia nodded to his retreating back. ‘You were certainly having a cozy chat with our minister. Are you planning on spending some time on our fair island?’ She’d spoken playfully, giving him a flirtatious look from under her lashes, but Ben Jackson remained all too expressionless. Unaffected, or perhaps still amused.

‘As a matter of fact, I am.’

‘A holiday, perhaps?’

‘Not quite.’

He was definitely amused. Natalia suppressed another stab of irritation. She was used to managing such conversations better, or, if she were honest, wrapping men like Ben Jackson around one manicured pinkie. No, not men like Ben Jackson. She had a feeling she hadn’t met many men like Ben Jackson, which was something to be thankful for. The man was downright annoying.

‘Then perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘you’re here to keep an eye on your sister? Make sure she behaves herself?’

‘My sister is an adult and perfectly capable of behaving herself,’ Ben replied coolly, ‘unlike some women who have been happily plastered across the pages of most of the tabloids of Europe.’

Natalia jerked back just a little, shocked by the sudden sharpness in his tone. He didn’t sound amused any more; he sounded condemning. She knew she was featured heavily in most tabloids and gossip magazines. She sought out such publicity deliberately. Yet hearing this aggravating man mock her for the exaggerated stories of her evening exploits made her now burn with fury—and shame.

‘Then you must be watching out for the rest of your family,’ she said with an answering edge to her voice. She let her gaze sweep through the room, lingering pointedly on his outrageous father, who was laughing far too loudly, before moving on to one of his sisters arguing heatedly with a guest, and then another sister—some kind of reality TV star, for heaven’s sake!—who certainly looked the part, before finally resting on yet another sister, a curvy blonde who was poured into a dress and flirting outrageously with a man twice her age. ‘I don’t believe all of them are able to behave themselves, are they?’

Ben’s expression didn’t change, not one bit, yet Natalia experienced a ripple of unease anyway. She felt again that impression of latent strength, leashed power.

‘I believe,’ Ben said softly, ‘this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I hardly think we can compare families, Mr Jackson, despite their similar sizes.’

‘Ah, I see. You’re a snob as well as a brat.’

Natalia drew back, shocked. No one ever talked to her like that, at least not a commoner at a public event. Within the palace walls was another matter altogether. ‘You should know,’ she told him coldly, ‘that I could have you thrown out of here for making remarks like that.’

‘Is that a threat?’

Natalia said nothing. It was a threat, and a useless one at that. She could go and fetch one of the liveried guards standing sentry at the doors to the palace ballroom, and she could request that they eject Ben Jackson from the premises. Whether they would do so was highly questionable. Ben Jackson was the brother of the future queen of Santina and, despite his family’s insalubrious background, an honoured guest. And the palace staff, on orders from her parents, took any of her requests with an irritating dose of cautious skepticism. She’d just been very foolish.

‘Consider yourself warned,’ she told him, and he laughed softly.

‘At least you have some sense.’

‘And you have no manners,’ she shot back.

His eyebrows lifted once again, and another mocking smile quirked that rather mobile mouth. ‘Kettle?’ he reminded her softly. ‘Pot?’

Natalia resisted the very strong urge to remind him she was of royal blood. And to kick him in the shins. Or maybe somewhere a bit higher. She plucked a flute of champagne from a circulating tray and took a large sip. ‘So,’ she said, eyeing him over the rim of her drink, ‘why are you considering spending time on Santina?’

Ben regarded her for a moment, and then seeming to shrug although his shoulders barely moved, he decided—thankfully—to be civil. ‘I’m starting a sports camp for the island’s disadvantaged youth.’

Surprise flickered through her. She’d expected him to say something about touring Santina’s sights, or renting a private yacht or palazzo. The usual reason a restless millionaire came to their shores. ‘How very charitable of you,’ she finally murmured.

‘Thank you.’

‘And I suppose you’re hoping to find the next Lionel Messi or David Beckham? Get a few kickbacks?’

Ben narrowed his eyes. ‘If you’re implying that my aim in starting this camp is to find a future star and benefit financially from it then you would be very much mistaken.’

‘Oh, come now. Surely you can’t deny you have something of an ulterior motive? Or are you going to spend however many weeks or months setting up this little camp with no profit whatsoever?’

‘As incredible as it seems to you, Your Highness,’ Ben murmured, ‘yes.’

Natalia shook her head. She knew enough about business—or at least men—to realise that no one did anything for free. There was always a price; it just depended on who paid it. And even if Ben had the saintliest motives possible, she still liked to annoy him. Especially since he’d annoyed her so much. ‘Perhaps not a future star, then,’ she acknowledged, ‘but the publicity can’t be bad.’

‘You know what they say about publicity. No publicity is bad publicity, except I don’t think that’s quite true in your case?’ He left it as a question, but the iron in his eyes made Natalia quite sure that he had no doubt about the publicity she’d had—or its accuracy. Only last week she’d been photographed leaving a club at 4:00 a.m., in the company of two well-known jet-setting playboys. A man like Ben Jackson probably found that shocking—and shameless. ‘In any case,’ he continued, ‘the amount of publicity generated by a youth club on this small island will be negligible to my business or its profits.’

Natalia didn’t know whether to be amused or outraged by his complete dismissal of this small island. She was a bit of both. Her mother would possibly swoon at such scorn. ‘Well,’ she said, keeping her voice careless, ‘since you seem so well-acquainted with the tabloids of Europe, I have no doubt you’ll be able to deliver the information into the right hands and guarantee yourself a front page or two.’

He stared at her for a moment, long enough to make her lose her edge of defiance and start to squirm. Or at least want to squirm. Thankfully she remained quite still. ‘Are you always this pleasant?’ he finally enquired.

‘No, I’m not,’ she told him. ‘You happened to catch me at a good moment.’ He let out a dry chuckle, surprising her. So boring Ben Jackson possessed a sense of humour. A small one.

‘I shudder at the thought of catching you at a bad one,’ he told her, and his voice was low and honeyed enough to slide right over her senses. Restrained and boring he may be, but he was also all too attractive.

Natalia knew she had been rather rude to him, but only because she’d felt so defensive. As soon as she’d met Ben Jackson he’d examined and dismissed her, all in the space of a few minutes. She’d spent a long time perfecting her air of polished, jaded sophistication, and she didn’t like someone like Ben blowing it. Seeing right through it. Laughing at her. ‘Shudder away,’ she told him. ‘Somehow I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.’

Ben Jackson let his gaze sweep slowly over her—far too slowly, for Natalia felt not only as if he were seeing right through her, but stripping the clothes from her body. Not that she was wearing much. Her silver-spangled dress was haute couture but very short, with a plunging V neckline. She felt her body heat all over under his deliberate scrutiny, and knew Ben Jackson saw the revealing colour wash over her. Unfortunately she went blotchy when she blushed. Not at all the look she was going for, and a ridiculous response to a man who had treated her abominably. She needed to get out of here, before Ben Jackson saw—and knew—too much.

Ben watched Natalia flush with interest and a sudden kick of lust. She was a beautiful woman, he had to give her that. Sexy, sophisticated, with a wicked glint in her eye and a proud tilt to her chin. The dress she wore was outrageous. In other circumstances, he would have enjoyed suggesting they both get out of here and go somewhere a little more private. Very private. Yet he was quite certain, from what he’d read and now just experienced, that Princess Natalia didn’t do private. Not like he did. He’d had enough scurrilous publicity for a lifetime, and he’d seen its effects tear through his family, a tornado of rumours and lies.

No, he had another suggestion for the princess. He watched her start to turn away, still proud, still bristling with affront, and he said, almost lazily, ‘You can dismiss my football camp all you want, Princess, as some reprehensible publicity stunt, but I guarantee you wouldn’t last a day—no, an hour—there serving as a volunteer.’

Natalia turned back, eyes narrowed to jade slits. ‘I wouldn’t want to volunteer even for an hour,’ she snapped.

Ben grinned; he couldn’t help himself. Sparring with her invigorated him, made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in a long time … even if she was completely annoying. ‘That doesn’t surprise me at all.’

‘Let me clarify,’ she said icily. ‘I would not want to volunteer if you were present.’

‘I bother you that much?’ he enquired, and he couldn’t keep the obvious innuendo from lacing his words. She bothered him. In more ways than one.

‘I simply prefer not to spend my time with arrogant boors.’

He chuckled drily, reluctantly admiring that she never let up. Not for one second. ‘You’ve summed me up quite quickly.’

‘As you have me,’ she pointed out, and to his surprise he thought he heard a thread of hurt underneath her magnificent disdain. The possibility made him feel uncomfortable, almost disappointed. He wanted to take Princess Natalia at face value, no more.

‘Still,’ he said. ‘You should volunteer.’ He didn’t really mean it, of course. The thought of the princess swanning through his office, disrupting his efficient staff and generating all kinds of speculative publicity was definitely not something he wanted. Yet he couldn’t keep from baiting her.

‘Thank you for the suggestion,’ she told him sweetly, ‘but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.’

Now annoyance prickled under his skin, even though he knew he was being unreasonable. As unreasonable as the princess, refusing to even consider such a thing. ‘It’s so beneath you?’ he enquired silkily.

Her chin lifted and her eyes glittered. ‘You seem to think so.’

‘I think it could be good for you.’

‘Teach me a lesson? Thank you, but no. Go ahead and do your little pet project, make yourself feel better, but leave me out of it.’

Annoyance turned to anger. Ben knew he was reacting emotionally to this woman’s taunts, yet he couldn’t keep himself from it, from feeling the anger surge through him at the way she’d dismissed not just him, but something that was so important to him. Already she was turning away. ‘I’ll make you a wager,’ he told her in steely challenge, and she stilled.

‘A wager? I don’t gamble, Mr Jackson.’

‘Please, call me Ben.’ She smiled frostily and said nothing. He took a step closer to her. ‘This isn’t exactly a gamble, Your Highness. More a test of your mettle.’ Her expression turned stony, and Ben knew what he wanted. He could handle the princess’s theatrics, and even the publicity. Besides, with so much going on with the royal family, were the tabloids really going to jump on Princess Natalia for going to an office every day? And the thought of seeing her taken down a notch or two, or even learning something, was very attractive indeed.

As was she … For a second Ben questioned just why he was doing this. Then he thrust the thought aside, and dipped his head so he could inhale her surprising, citrusy scent, feel the feminine warmth of her only inches away. ‘I’ll bet,’ Ben whispered, ‘that I could convince your father to make you volunteer.’

She stiffened, half turned to face him, and if Ben had moved at all, their lips would have touched. He felt a jolt of lust, the depth and strength of his attraction surprising him, alarming him even. Too much. He could tell she wanted to take a step backwards, but she refused. She angled her head so she was looking up at him, and he could see the golden flecks in her eyes, a tiny mole at the corner of her mouth.

‘Convince my father? I hardly think so.’

‘Then you’ll take the bet?’

Natalia eyed him coldly, and he knew she was torn between proving herself and staying safe. As was he … Just what was he thinking, inviting Natalia into his office, his life? Yet as her lashes swept downwards, hiding any emotion revealed in her eyes, he realised he didn’t care. He wanted this.

‘I didn’t say that,’ she finally said.

‘Scared, Your Highness?’

Natalia drew herself up. ‘You take the most appalling liberties, Ben. And no, I’m not scared. I’m just not interested. And I highly doubt my father would so much as grant you an audience, much less listen to your argument.’

Her resistance just made him want to push more. ‘Then why not take the bet?’

‘Why should I?’

‘Of course. Something has to be in it for you.’

‘Is there something in it for me?’ she enquired sweetly. ‘Such as you printing a public apology to me for your rude behavior in every tabloid newspaper from here to London?’

He laughed softly. ‘What an odd thing to request. It’s not as if anyone has overheard our conversation.’

‘I’d still like to see you grovel.’

‘I bet you would.’

Her eyes flashed and attraction sparked between them again, threatening to ignite to flame. Ben knew Natalia could feel it. He certainly could. Should he let her off the hook, keep them both from getting burned? He’d wanted to keep a low profile on Santina, and being involved in any way with Natalia would surely put paid to that. Besides the princess was exactly the kind of woman he couldn’t stand. Yet still he said nothing, didn’t move.

‘You really are a betting man,’ Natalia finally drawled. She shrugged as if she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘All right, go ahead and attempt to convince my father. You won’t get very far. And if I win, and he refuses to grant your request …’ She paused, and Ben waited, adrenalin coursing through him as if he were on the football pitch. This certainly was an even match. He couldn’t wait to hear what she wanted from him. ‘Then you are mine to command for a day.’ Command …? Provocative images blazed through Ben’s mind. Natalia smiled. ‘Fair?’

‘And if I win?’ he murmured, his gaze heavy and intent on hers.

‘Then I volunteer,’ she answered with a shrug. ‘And you get to command me anyway.’

She spoke without innuendo, yet it was there anyway. Desire pulsed in his blood, fired through him. He could handle it, Ben told himself. He could handle her. ‘I look forward to it,’ he murmured, and put out his hand for her to shake. He wanted to touch her. ‘So we’re agreed?’

Defiantly Natalia took his hand, and Ben saw her react to the touch of his fingers enfolding hers, saw it in the flaring of her eyes, that little hitch of breath. Then she smiled as if she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘It’s a deal.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT?’ Natalia heard the outraged screech of her own voice echo against the walls of her father’s audience chamber. He did too, obviously, for he winced slightly even as he lifted a paper from an ornate end table and scanned it with seemingly little interest.

‘Please lower your voice, Natalia, and conduct yourself as a princess.’

Natalia nearly shook with disbelief—and anger. ‘And princesses,’ she asked, ‘spend their days coaching football for the ragtag children of—’

‘These children,’ King Eduardo reminded her coldly, ‘are the citizens of your country. You have a duty to them.’

‘A duty to teach them football?’ Natalia was quite sure her father and mother’s duty did not extend much beyond the palazzo walls, unless it was making a speech or giving a little royal wave.

King Eduardo sighed and dropped the paper, turning to Natalia as if she were really rather wearying. It had already irritated her that he’d called her to him in this audience chamber, an ancient and ornate room that was meant for commoners to present their petitions to their king, not conversations within the family. Standing in front of him, the royal throne decked out in gold leaf between them, she felt at a distinct disadvantage. Still, she hadn’t expected this.

‘Natalia, the truth of the matter is, I think volunteering could be beneficial for you—’

‘Beneficial—’

‘Let me speak,’ Eduardo said sharply, and Natalia, chastened, fell silent. She could not afford to anger her father now. ‘You have been running around for far too long, living an inappropriate and extravagant lifestyle. I was willing to overlook it because of your impending marriage to Prince Michel, but since he has broken the engagement—causing some significant humiliation to our family—I see that other measures need to be taken.’

Natalia bit her lip, hard, to keep from speaking. She knew she’d been pushing the boundaries of her parents’ acceptance with her partying. Of course, the tabloids exaggerated everything, but in her parents’ world frequenting a nightclub was already skirting the perimeter of propriety. Yet what was she supposed to do? She didn’t have a decent education, she couldn’t work and she didn’t fancy spending her days the way her mother did, dressing up for lunch, taking tea at a certain hour and waving at the masses from the balcony. And at least when she went out with a wilder crowd, she knew that was what the press would focus on. Nothing else.

‘In any case,’ her father continued, his tone utterly implacable, ‘it has come to my attention that a bit of positive publicity could be very good for you, as well as this family. When I consider Sophia—’

‘Sophia?’ Natalia repeated, unable to hold her tongue any longer. ‘What has Sophia done?’ Sophia never did anything wrong. The press loved her, and her father had announced her engagement to Prince Rodriguez last night at Alex and Allegra’s engagement party, to much acclaim. Unlike Natalia, Sophia was doing everything right. Wasn’t she?

‘Never mind,’ Eduardo said sharply. ‘The point is, I think your volunteering is an excellent idea, and I told Ben Jackson so. You are to start on Tuesday.’ He turned to face his daughter, his dark eyes steely with determination. ‘And do not think of defying me, Natalia, or you will find yourself without a penny, and an armed bodyguard making sure you do as you are told.’

Natalia swallowed. She was quite aware that her father’s threat was real, unlike her own to Ben Jackson the other night. And the thought of being penniless and virtually imprisoned did not appeal to her at all. For a blinding second she hated being a princess, hated its restrictions and regulations, the oppressive expectation of royal duty, the secrets and shame she was forced to hide.

‘Very well, Father,’ she finally managed. ‘I will do my best to be a credit to you and the Santina family.’

Her father waved his hand in obvious dismissal, and burning with frustration, Natalia swept out of the chamber. She stood in the opulent front hallway of the palazzo, half a dozen liveried guards flanking the various arched doorways. She could not volunteer for Ben Jackson. The thought filled her with a panicky fear that she couldn’t bear to feel. Too much was out of her control. Too many possibilities of being humiliated, exposed—and by Ben Jackson, smirking in triumph.

The thought made her stomach churn and she felt physically sick. She had her reasons for acting the way she did, hiding in plain sight. She did not want Ben guessing them. Knowing them. Knowing her.

Natalia drew a deep breath and threw her shoulders back. Very well. If she could not convince her father to drop this ridiculous scheme, then she would have to convince the other man involved. She would talk to Ben Jackson himself.

Ben heard the gasps of shock from the reception area of his rented office and leaned back in his chair, smiling in anticipation. That had been quick.

A second later the door to his office burst open and Princess Natalia Santina stood there, her slanted hazel cat’s eyes narrowed and glittering with fury. With her blond pixie hair cut and her long, lithe body, she looked, Ben thought, a bit like an elf. A rather naughty elf. He couldn’t quite forget the image of her in that indecent dress last night. It had barely covered her bottom. Then she’d looked like sex in high heels; now she looked every inch the elegant princess, wearing a pink linen shift, high heeled slingback sandals and wraparound sunglasses which she’d pushed up onto her head. She also looked utterly furious. Ben smiled.

‘Ah, so prompt, Princess. But I believe I arranged with your father for you to start on Tuesday?’ He let his smile widen. He could practically see the steam coming from her ears. ‘So consider this a twenty-four-hour reprieve.’

Natalia took a step into the room. Her chest heaved, although when she spoke her voice was level. ‘You cannot really think,’ she said coldly, ‘to go through with this … this ridiculous idea.’

So she was going to try and play the princess card. Ben laced his hands behind his head and lounged back in his chair. ‘Oh, but I can,’ he assured her. ‘Your father was really quite taken with it.’

‘My father—’ She bit off the words, looking like she wanted to chew them up and spit them out.

‘Thought it would be good for you,’ Ben filled in helpfully.

Natalia glared. ‘I know what my father thinks, thank you very much.’

‘Then there’s no problem.’

She drew a deep breath. ‘There is very much a problem, Mr—’

‘Ben.’

‘Ben.’

She was so very angry. Really, Ben thought idly, she looked rather magnificent when she was furious. Her eyes glittered and her cheeks were flushed, her breasts heaving underneath the snug pink linen of her dress. He could almost imagine what she would be like in bed.

Natalia Santina was a woman who gave as good as she got. The thought of matching her between the sheets had a distinct appeal … and one Ben knew he would have to resist. He chose his affairs with care and discretion, two words he could not apply to the princess. But he was looking forward to being her boss.

Natalia took another step into the room. She drew a breath and let it out slowly, smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress. Ben braced himself for a new tactic. ‘Look,’ she said, and her voice was pitched low, appealing. Sexy. He banished the thought and looked alert and interested, as if he might actually change his mind.

‘I know we were winding each other up last night, but that’s all it really was.’ She smiled, playfully, and despite his best intentions to remain unmoved Ben felt his pulse kick up a notch. This woman really affected him, in more ways than he cared to admit. Again he questioned the wisdom of having her here, flitting around, smiling so sexily. No, he could handle it. He would stay in control. Always. He smiled blandly back.

‘Was it?’

Irritation flashed in those hazel eyes. ‘You know it was. I can’t actually … participate in this camp of yours.’

Her tone invited him to share the absurdity of such a concept and, smiling regretfully, Ben shook his head. ‘Oh, but you can.’

‘But I’m—’ She stopped suddenly but Ben could easily guess what she’d been about to say.

‘A princess?’ he filled in. ‘And princesses can’t get their hands dirty? Can’t mingle with the masses? Can’t do a single day’s work in their bloody useless lives?’

Natalia recoiled, and underneath the anger Ben thought he saw a flash of vulnerability. Then she drew herself up, all haughty disdain, and he was reminded of just what a spoilt snob she really was. He knew what it meant to work. He knew what it was to try and fail and then try again. His father may have once been a famous footballer, but Ben had made his own money, his own life far from the scandal and notoriety of his upbringing. He’d earned the respect he now garnered; it hadn’t been given to him simply because of who he was. Not like this princess. He’d be damned if he’d let her try to walk all over him.

‘It’s simply not reasonable,’ she said, clearly now going for quiet dignity. A little too late for that.

‘I don’t see why.’

‘Because—’

‘Just what do you have against volunteering at my sports camp?’ Ben asked, leaning forward. He genuinely wanted to know the answer. ‘The children are generally friendly and well-behaved, and they can actually be quite a laugh. You might, heaven forbid, enjoy yourself.’

‘You’ve done these camps before?’

‘A few. One in London, another in Liverpool. Coming here was a way to launch possible camps all over Europe.’

‘Ambitious, aren’t you?’

Ben simply shrugged. ‘So? What do you have against it?’

She stared at him and he saw something flicker in those hazel-green eyes, something that looked remarkably like fear. ‘I don’t know anything about football,’ she finally said.

‘It’s not as if I’d expect you to coach.’

She didn’t speak for a long moment. With the tiniest flicker of sympathy, Ben could just imagine how trapped she felt. Even he had been surprised at how readily King Eduardo had agreed to his plan. The rather dismissive way he’d discussed his daughter had caused Ben a ripple of unease. Natalia may be spoilt, snobbish, vain and even useless, but she was still the man’s child. He had spoken about her, at least a little bit, as if she were nothing but a bother and embarrassment.

Finally she lifted her chin, settled her flintily determined gaze upon him. ‘What would you have me do?’

Ben felt a surge of triumph, as well as a reluctant wave of admiration. The woman had courage. And pride. Too much of it, of course. He shrugged, spreading his hands. ‘Whatever needs doing, really. Office work to begin with—’

‘Office work?’ For a second she looked panicked, which surprised him. Surely office work would be preferable to getting mucky with the children on a football pitch.

‘The camp doesn’t actually launch for another week,’ Ben explained. ‘When the Santina schools have their spring holiday. We’ll start our first three-week camp then. Until it starts, you can help organise things here.’ He gestured to the reception room out front that had been a hive of happy productivity, at least until Princess Natalia had stormed in and stunned them all into silence. ‘You might not be able to type a hundred words a minute,’ he allowed generously, ‘but I assume you can handle a photocopier, do a bit of filing? Read?’ He smiled, expecting her to laugh or smile back even if it was haughtily, but she didn’t. She jerked her startled gaze upwards to his and for a second, no more, she looked terrified. Then her expression closed up completely and she jerked her head in what Ben supposed was a nod.

‘We could make another bet,’ he offered. ‘If you can hack it here for thirty days—’

‘Thirty days—’

‘A month,’ he clarified, and she narrowed her eyes to slits.

‘I can count, Mr—Ben. Thank you very much.’

‘Glad to hear it. Read and count. You’re really quite accomplished.’

She said nothing, but her eyes blazed fury and something even deeper. Darker. Hatred, almost. The emotion in her eyes surprised him; the princess had been giving as good as she got. He felt a stirring of unease at the possibility that he’d actually hurt her.

‘If you manage to stay the required month,’ he said after a moment, keeping his voice mild, ‘required by your father, I should add, then our original bet still stands. I’ll be yours to command for the day.’ Last night that had seemed an almost enticing possibility. Now Ben rather thought that if he was under Princess Natalia’s command she would order him to carve out his own liver with an oyster fork.

She stared at him for a moment, her expression still closed and really rather remote, so he had no idea what she was thinking. It was almost as if she’d physically, or at least emotionally, retreated from him, so even though she still stood in this room, her lithe figure splendidly encased in the pink shift, she was in actuality a million miles away. Ben was surprised to feel a little pang of regret. Despite her aggravating personality, he’d enjoyed their sparring.

‘You don’t think I can do it,’ she said at last.

He could not keep himself from replying, ‘You have given me little cause to believe you can.’

Another flash across her features that he couldn’t quite discern before her expression closed again. ‘You don’t know me.’

‘I’ve read about you—’

‘Do you really believe everything you see in the papers?’ she scoffed, although he still detected a trembling thread of uncertainty underneath her disdain. ‘Your family has been fodder for the tabloids plenty of times. Maybe you’re the pot calling the kettle black now.’

Ben stiffened. He hated the kind of press coverage his family generated, had been trying to rise above it for, it seemed, his entire life. And he particularly hated any personal media exposure, having been dogged by it all too often when he was younger. Even now he could remember the look on his mother’s face when she’d read the papers. She had never been able to resist reading them, seeing and even studying the photos of Bobby Jackson with his latest mistress. Seeing the photo of Ben himself, his tear-streaked face, only four years old. She’d let out a cry of anguish then that still reverberated through Ben thirty years later and made him avoid reporters and their invasive cameras as much as possible. ‘It’s true my family has fed the British press for far too long,’ he told her evenly, ‘but it’s been my experience that even the most outrageous stories hold a grain of truth.’

‘A grain.’

‘Are you saying you’ve been maligned?’

She pressed her lips together. ‘I’m saying I’ll do it,’ she finally said. ‘Clearly I have no choice, and in any case I look forward to winning this ridiculous wager of yours.’ She drew herself up, her eyes glittering, her cheeks high with colour. She really did look magnificent. ‘I look forward,’ she told him, ‘to telling you just what you can do with yourself for an entire day.’

Ben let out a reluctantly admiring laugh. ‘And I look forward to obliging you, I’m sure.’ He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the T-shirt he’d reserved for her. ‘Here’s your uniform.’ He tossed it to her, and she caught it on reflex, staring down at it in incomprehension.

‘It’s a shirt,’ he explained kindly. ‘You wear it.’

She stared at the logo on front, her brow furrowed. Was she really going to object to wearing a shirt with his name on it? From what he’d already experienced of her, probably.

‘Jackson Enterprises Youth Sports,’ she read slowly. She glanced up at him, gave him a wicked smile. ‘You’ve got your name all over this project, haven’t you?’

‘What should I have called it?’ Ben snapped. He leaned forward, suddenly goaded into proving himself, even though he knew it was ridiculous. ‘These camps mean a great deal to me, Princess, and I’d advise you not to stretch my patience too far. You have no idea what I’m capable of.’

She stared at him, the T-shirt clutched to her chest with one fist. ‘And I’ll say the same to you,’ she said quietly. ‘You have no idea what I’m capable of, Ben Jackson.’

Natalia stood outside Ben Jackson’s office building, blinking in the bright sunlight and willing her heart to stop thudding.

Thirty days.

How could she do it? How could she survive? Ben Jackson’s mocking voice echoed in her head, reverberated through her body.

Read and count. You’re really quite accomplished.

He had no idea. Thirty days in an office would be a month of living hell. She’d had Carlotta’s help to cover herself in school, but now …? How long would it take Ben to figure out her weaknesses? Mock them?

And yet despite the fear that coursed through her like liquid silver, Natalia felt something else just as strong: a blazing streak of determination. She wanted, more than anything, to prove Ben Jackson wrong. Annoying him in the process would be a pleasant bonus.

Her mouth curved into a grim smile as she imagined just how aggravating she could be to Ben. After all, he hadn’t qualified his bet with any sort of progress or achievement on her part. All she had to do was show up and stick it out. And make his life miserable in the process … just as he would undoubtedly make hers.

And then, after thirty days, she would have won. Now she smiled with anticipation as she imagined what she would command him to do. Fetch her slippers? Write an abject public apology in the press? Have him follow her around like a lap-dog? Another tantalising possibility slid through her mind, a sly whisper of just what Ben Jackson could do for her … and to her …

She pictured those broad shoulders and trim hips, those eyes darkened with desire … those long-fingered hands roving over her body with languorous intent. Then she pushed the images away. No, she had no interest in that. Ben Jackson was too autocratic and arrogant to be anything but her boss. Besides, she might flirt and date and have it written up in a tabloid as a torrid affair, but in reality she was very choosy with her relationships. That was one lesson she’d learned all too easily.

The smile died from her lips as she considered what lay between her and winning the wager. Thirty days. Thirty days of working hard—Ben would do his best, she knew, to keep her nose to the grindstone. She sighed, her shoulders slumping before she drew herself up again. She wasn’t afraid of working hard. She just didn’t know if it could produce any meaningful result.

Back at the palazzo Natalia was surprised to find her father closeted with a handful of advisers and her mother in a ferment of anxiety. She asked for Natalia to come to her private rooms upon her return, which she did. Despite her party-going antics, Natalia had yet to disobey a direct order.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, and Queen Zoe raised perfectly plucked eyebrows.

‘What’s going on? Only that your foolish sister has run off!’

Natalia slid her sunglasses up onto her head. ‘Sophia?’ she guessed, thinking of her father’s words this morning. Her own twin, Carlotta, had already shamed the Santina family by having a child out of wedlock and was trying to live a quiet life in Italy. Natalia didn’t think on top of that she’d just disappear.

‘Yes, Sophia,’ Zoe said with a worried huff. ‘Apparently she would rather ruin her reputation than marry Prince Rodriguez.’

‘Really,’ Natalia said, and didn’t even bother sounding surprised. Wasn’t she the same? She just hadn’t possessed the courage to take it as far as Sophia apparently had done. ‘Where has she gone?’

‘She has stowed away on the airplane of the Maharajah Ashok Achari.’

‘Ash?’ Natalia said incredulously. Ash was one of her brother Alex’s oldest friends, and as such had visited the palazzo several times. Sophia, Natalia suspected, had always had a bit of a crush on him. But to stow away on a plane …! She felt a thrill of admiration as well as envy. She might have made a few scenes, caused a few minor scandals, but she’d never done something really brave.

‘The media is going wild,’ Zoe said in disgust. Both of her parents hated the press, though they recognised the need to appease the people’s desire for press coverage of the royal family. ‘Between this and how they’ve taken to Alex’s intended—’ Her mother stopped abruptly. ‘Really, I cannot conceive what your sister was thinking.’

She’d taken her future into her own hands—in a way Natalia never had.

Zoe sighed. ‘The media is having a field day with Alex’s choice of bride and now Sophia and Ash are having a hasty, patched-up wedding. Your father was quite right in having you volunteer for the Jackson boy. In these precarious times we must do what needs to be done.’

Ah, Natalia thought, royal duty. Of course.

Zoe turned to Natalia, her expression now one of kindly appeal. ‘I know this volunteering might be a bit … difficult for you,’ she said, and Natalia stiffened. Her mother’s sympathy was far worse than her scold. ‘But the positive publicity really is important now.’ She smiled sadly and spread her hands wide. ‘We’re depending on you, Natalia.’

CHAPTER THREE

NATALIA stood in front of Ben Jackson’s office building on one of the best streets of the business district and took a deep breath. She’d had a fraught morning. The palazzo was still in uproar over Sophia and Ash’s scandalous elopement, and the paparazzi had hounded Natalia all the way to the door of the chauffeured car that would take her into the city. Fortunately the driver, Enrico, had lost them on the winding, cobbled streets of Santina’s capital city and now Natalia was left mercifully alone. But not for long. News of her volunteering would leak out and then she would be hounded again. She could just imagine how the press would handle her sudden charitable streak. Bad Girl Plays at Being Good. No one would take it at face value, or consider it admirable. She knew that. Her mother might be depending on her to bring in some good press, but Natalia doubted she could be the one to do it.

Sophia had always been the darling of the media, and even Carlotta’s sins were quietly forgiven, since she was so obviously repentant. But Natalia? She was the party girl—shallow, selfish, reckless and wild—and the paparazzi had no desire for her to shake off her role. Neither, it seemed, did Ben Jackson. From their conversation two days ago, Natalia suspected he was quite looking forward to seeing her fail. She straightened her shoulders and started towards the office. Today she would begin proving him wrong … and making his life hell in the process.

‘You’re late.’ Natalia had just stepped into the building when Ben appeared in his own office doorway, tapping his gold and silver watch. ‘Ten minutes after nine, Princess.’

‘Please, call me Natalia,’ she said with exaggerated graciousness. ‘Or if you prefer, Your Highness.’

Ben’s lips twitched even as he narrowed his eyes. ‘We’re informal in this office. Everyone will call you Natalia.’

Natalia glanced at the three people working in the front office, two women and a man, all of their mouths agape, their eyes as wide as saucers.

‘And,’ Ben continued, his voice hardening, ‘everyone arrives on time.’

‘Of course,’ Natalia replied smoothly. ‘It’s just that I had some difficulties avoiding the press. They were parked outside the palazzo all morning. And not on my account, I might add.’ She gave him a smilingly pointed look as she took off her light silk trench coat and held it out. The woman behind the receptionist desk hurried to take it and Ben’s face darkened.

‘You can hang up your own coat,’ he snapped, and Natalia inclined her head in regal acknowledgement. She had a feeling that playing the gracious royal would get right up Ben’s nose. And in actuality, she’d held out her coat unthinkingly. She was used to someone snapping to attention any time she needed or wanted something; that was how things had always been done in the palazzo. Clearly it was not going to be like that here.

She registered the narrowing of his eyes and the flare of awareness as he took in her clothes; she’d worn the T-shirt he’d given her but paired it with a pale grey silk pencil skirt and matching cardigan, and finished the outfit with a narrow belt in black patent leather and a pair of very high heels. Everyone else in the office wore jeans, save Ben, who was dressed in another sober suit. The man, Natalia thought idly, wanted to appear strait-laced. Boring, even. But she didn’t think he was, underneath. Not if that flaring in his eyes was anything to go by. A lot of emotion bubbled underneath that coolly arrogant facade.

Ben introduced her to his staff: Francesca, a competent-looking young woman in her twenties; Mariana, a stout matron in her early forties, and Fabio, a shy young man who blushed crimson as he stammered his hello. They were all islanders, all bilingual, and they all, of course, knew exactly who she was. Natalia greeted them graciously, but she saw the mix of awe and speculation in their faces and wondered what they thought of her. What they’d read, and what they believed. Not that she cared. She wouldn’t let herself.

‘Come into my office,’ Ben said, still sounding annoyed, ‘and you can get started.’

‘So lovely to meet you,’ Natalia told the three still standing with their mouths agape, and they stammered their replies. She strolled into Ben’s office and he closed the door firmly behind her.

‘You can drop the princess act,’ he growled, and she turned around, arching her eyebrows.

‘But I am a princess.’

‘You know what I mean. As long as you’re here, Your Highness, you’re just another one of my employees.’

‘Volunteers,’ Natalia corrected sweetly, and Ben’s eyes narrowed to near slits.

‘Very well. Volunteer. And my employees out there are not your royal subjects as long as we’re in this office.’

‘So you object to my being polite?’

‘I object to you acting like you’re gracing us with your presence,’ he snapped.

‘Oh, I see,’ Natalia said, sitting in the chair across from his desk and crossing her legs neatly. ‘You want me to grovel.’

Ben let out an exasperated breath. ‘I just want you to act … normal.’

‘This is normal for me.’

‘Really?’ He looked irritatingly skeptical. ‘Some how, Princess, I don’t think any of this is within the realm of your normal activities.’ He glanced pointedly at her demure outfit, and Natalia knew he was thinking of the rather outrageous outfit she’d worn at the engagement party. It had been a very short dress.

Natalia gave him a cool look. She would not let him rile her, even though her heart had already started thudding hard both with anger and trepidation. She was outside of her realm of normal activities. And her comfort zone. ‘Tell me, Ben,’ she asked in as friendly a tone as she could manage, ‘why do you want me here? To teach me a lesson or to have me actually help?’ His eyebrows snapped together, but he said nothing. ‘Because,’ Natalia continued, leaning forward, ‘if I’d offered to help without you first arranging this ridiculous bet, I doubt you’d be scolding me in front of your staff and calling me “princess” in that sneering voice.’ She saw realisation and something close, perhaps, to regret cross his features, darkening his eyes and tightening his mouth.

‘But you didn’t,’ he finally said, biting off the words.

‘So I’m to be punished?’

‘I’m just treating you like everyone else who works here, Prin—Natalia.’

‘Ah, with respect and courtesy then.’

For a second he looked completely flummoxed, and Natalia felt a savage surge of satisfaction. He may have got the better of her in their last conversation, but she was determined to give as good as she got today. She smiled, her point made, and leaned back in her chair. ‘How long has this office been going?’

He looked surprised by the turn in conversation, but he took it in his stride. ‘About six weeks.’

‘And you’ve been here that whole time?’ How had she not come across him before?

‘No, I flew in for a couple of days, that’s all. But now I’m going to be on site for the running of the first camp, before I return to London.’

‘What a coincidence,’ Natalia murmured, ‘that your sister is now engaged to the country’s future king.’

‘Not that much of a coincidence. I knew Alex was in London. I met with him about this camp, so it’s not too much of a leap of the imagination to think he came across Allegra.’

‘And proposed on the spot?’

‘I met with him months ago,’ Ben explained coolly. ‘They obviously had a few months of dating. And,’ he finished with a dismissive shrug, ‘when you know, you know.’

Obviously he didn’t like anyone casting doubt on any of his family. The man was amazingly sensitive about his unruly clan. ‘You know?’ she repeated. ‘Are you talking about true love?’ She imbued the words with as much skepticism as she felt.

Ben’s face remained expressionless. ‘Obviously you don’t believe in it.’

‘Do you?’

‘We hardly need to discuss my feelings on the matter,’ Ben said crisply. ‘You’re here to work, not gossip.’

She uncrossed her legs and straightened in her chair. ‘Very well.’ The fact that he hadn’t answered intrigued her, even though she knew it shouldn’t. What on earth did it matter what Ben Jackson thought about true love? She certainly didn’t believe in it, not after seeing the enduring frosty civility between her parents, and Carlotta’s heart being trampled on by that no-good ambassador. Not to mention her own foolish attempt at a real romance. She had no time or interest in love, true or otherwise … which was why she’d been so relieved to have her own engagement broken.

Ben rose from his chair, and so did Natalia. ‘Francesca will be in charge of your duties in the office,’ he told her. ‘Next week, when the camp starts, you’ll report directly to me.’ Did he say those words with rather grim relish, or was Natalia just imagining it?

She gave him her most saccharine smile. ‘As you wish.’

‘Music to my ears,’ Ben murmured, and led her back out to the front office.

The first few hours of Natalia’s enforced volunteering went, to her relief, surprisingly smoothly. Francesca gave her a large pile of photocopying to do, and operating the machine was well within Natalia’s abilities, albeit rather tedious. Still the monotony was made bearable by the presence of the others, who kept up a stream of cheerful chatter about books and films and summer plans, to which Natalia contributed, although her intent to cruise the Cyclades on a friend’s private yacht left them all silent, as did her airy admission that she’d seen the film they were discussing at its world premiere in Cannes last year. Natalia didn’t talk so much after that. Ben kept himself closeted in his office, so at least she didn’t have to endure his scowling observation.

By the time lunch rolled around Natalia was starving and exhausted. It annoyed her that one morning tired her out, but she decided that everyone could use a break, and she offered to take her three colleagues out to lunch.

‘We usually just have sandwiches—’ Mariana said, and Natalia waved this aside. After being cooped up in an office the whole morning, they all deserved a treat.

‘But you do get a lunch hour, don’t you?’

‘Yes—’

‘Then it’s settled,’ Natalia said firmly. ‘Why don’t we just leave Mr Jackson a note?’ Ben, thankfully, had gone out earlier to a meeting and Natalia was grateful not to encounter him now. He’d only have something sardonic to say.

Francesca wrote the note and Natalia took them all to one of her favourite restaurants, a little Italian bistro on a back street that looked unassuming but had a six month waiting list for reservations. Fortunately they always had a table reserved for a princess.

‘Order whatever you like,’ she told everyone, and asked for a bottle of very nice wine to be brought to the table. She was just raising her glass in a toast to her colleagues when a hush fell over the table and she saw a shadowy figure darken the doorway of the bistro. Ben. And he looked furious.

‘Join us,’ she offered airily as he approached the table. ‘I was just about to propose a toast.’

‘What a surprise,’ Ben drawled. ‘Please. Continue.’ And smiling, although his eyes still glittered ice, he accepted a glass.

‘To a fabulous first day of work,’ she said, a bit defiantly, and after clinking glasses with everyone she drained her own. She could feel Ben’s gaze on her, narrowed and speculative, over the rim of his own glass. He dropped into the seat next to her.

‘Don’t you mean a fabulous first morning of volunteering?’ he said dryly, leaning forward so his lips almost brushed her ear. His breath fanned her skin and she felt an entirely unreasonable and yet undeniable reaction to him, a shivery heat stealing through her body.

She turned to give him a breezy smile, but he was too close. Far too close. She stilled, and her gaze dropped to his lips, so mobile and sensual, so unlike the rest of his face, all harshly defined planes and angles. ‘Whatever you like to call it,’ she replied, meaning to sound flippant but her voice was too husky. His gaze still locked with hers, Ben took another sip of his drink.

‘Cheers, then,’ he said.

Natalia had ordered half a dozen of her favourite dishes, yet with Ben lounging next to her she found she could barely manage a mouthful. There was something so … distracting about his presence, his overwhelming maleness. Even in his sober suit he exuded a masculine assurance and even arrogance that made Natalia fumble with her fork, the delicious food dry in her mouth. What was it about this man? And how had she ever thought he was boring?

When the waiter brought the pistachio cannoli for dessert Ben looked pointedly at his watch. ‘As delicious as this all looks, your Highness, I’m afraid we’ve been at lunch for well over an hour and there is work to do.’ He smiled at the waiter, although his eyes flashed dark fire. ‘Do you think we could get that wrapped up?’

Natalia bit her lip, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Clearly this lunch had been a little over the top. The rest of Ben’s employees must have thought so too, for they were a rather sorry, silent little crew as they trooped back to the office.

Natalia was just dragging her feet towards the photocopier when Ben paused in the doorway to his private office, eyebrows lifted. ‘Natalia? Could I see you a moment in my office?’

Her stomach flipped and her heart did a somersault. Was he about to bawl her out, again? ‘Of course.’

Head held high, she sailed past Ben into his inner sanctum, heard the click of the door closing behind her.

‘That was quite a show,’ he said, mildly enough, but Natalia still heard the steel underneath.

‘It was lunch.’

‘Perhaps in your world, Princess—’

‘Natalia—’ she corrected firmly.

‘But the average office worker doesn’t have a two-hour lunch complete with lobster and champagne.’

‘Wine, actually.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘If you’re going to work here—’

‘But I don’t work here,’ Natalia pointed out. ‘I volunteer.’

‘You are under my authority,’ Ben bit out, ‘and I will not allow you to swan into my office and do your la-di-da routine instead of properly working!’

Smiling, Natalia planted both her hands on Ben’s desk and leaned forward so their faces were mere inches apart. ‘Then maybe,’ she suggested softly, ‘you should have thought of that before you made that bet.’

Ben stared at her for a long moment and Natalia became tantalisingly conscious of how close they actually were. If she just leaned forward a little bit, she could kiss him. She imagined the feel of his lips on hers. Would they be hard or soft, yielding or resisting? Would he take control of the kiss, deepen it into something more? She felt a plunging sensation in her stomach, as if she’d missed a stair. She thought he would be a masterful kisser, and she realised she very much wanted to find out.

Her breath hitched and her heart began to thud with hard, heavy beats. It would be so easy … and yet so impossible. She was already playing with fire, taunting him like this. She didn’t want to get completely singed. She knew how that felt, and it wasn’t pleasant.

Ben finally leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly, his eyes narrowed with steely understanding. ‘I see what this is. Your little revenge.’

Natalia shrugged, saying nothing. Her heart was still thudding hard and in truth she couldn’t say what this was. She’d arrived this morning fully intending to annoy Ben by playing the spoilt brat, yet how could you play at something you actually were? She kept getting muddled, not sure what was pretend and what was just her. And as for the lunch … Another twinge of embarrassment assailed her. She’d actually meant it as a kindness. She’d liked chatting with Francesca, Mariana and Fabio, and providing lunch had seemed like something she could do, something they would enjoy. Yet when Ben had joined them, looking so disapproving and disdainful, she’d overreacted on purpose just to annoy him. Clearly she’d succeeded.

Staring at him now, his expression so assessing and judgmental, Natalia felt an uncomfortable welter of emotions—regret and defiance, hurt and pride. Everything was confused. He was confusing. And now he was glaring at her quite ferociously.

She straightened, taking her hands off the desk and smoothing her skirt. ‘Shall I get back to work now?’ she asked, scrupulously polite, and Ben let out a humourless laugh.

‘You mean volunteering, don’t you?’ he said, and waved towards the door. ‘By all means. Waste everyone’s time for another few hours.’

Back in the front room Francesca, her eyes cast down and her expression meekly contrite, handed Natalia a large stack of files. ‘These can go in that drawer over there,’ she said, indicating an ugly, iron-grey filing cabinet in the corner.

‘You have this many files already?’ Natalia asked, trying to suppress a little flutter of fear. ‘I thought this office had only been around a few weeks.’

‘Nearly a month,’ Francesca replied, ‘but there is a lot of paperwork. Legal matters, insurance—’

‘Right.’ Natalia turned towards the cabinet. ‘So where do these go?’

‘You put them in alphabetically,’ Francesca explained. ‘See how they’re labeled?’ She pointed to a neatly printed label on each file and then opened the top drawer of the cabinet. ‘It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just look for the corresponding file in the cabinet.’

‘Right.’ And it was simple, Natalia knew. That didn’t mean it was easy. Francesca walked back to her desk and Natalia put the stack of files on top of the cabinet. She swallowed, straightened her skirt. She would just take this one file at a time and work slowly. Carefully. Yet staring at the tottering stack of files on top of the cabinet, she felt working through them was akin to scaling Mount Everest. In bare feet.

The mood of the office was subdued for the next hour, which didn’t help Natalia’s painfully slow process through the files. Ben strode out of his office, gave Natalia and her files a sharply assessing look before announcing that he was going out for a bit.

The mood lightened a bit after that, and they all started chatting again, which made things easier. In fact, Natalia was just describing the gown she’d worn to a royal ball, her audience quite captivated, when Ben came back to the office.

‘Three rows of seeded pearls sewn along the hem, which actually made it ridiculously heavy. I think I lost five pounds wearing that thing.’

Ben didn’t speak, but she felt his tension. His annoyance, or maybe even his anger. ‘Natalia,’ he said, scrupulously polite, ‘could I please see you in my office?’

Again? ‘Of course,’ she said as airily as she could, and turned away from the filing cabinet. ‘Twice in one day I’ve been called to the headmaster’s office,’ she quipped once he’d closed the door. ‘Must be my lucky day.’

‘Or mine,’ Ben replied dryly. He leaned against the door, his arms folded, his expression turning heavy-lidded. He had amazingly long lashes, Natalia noticed rather absently. On another man those lashes, sensual lips might seem effeminate, but Ben was far too potently male for that. His whole body radiated strength … and tension.

‘Are you amusing yourself, Princess, working as slowly as you can? Sending my entire office into a tailspin?’

‘Infuriating you is my main purpose, actually,’ Natalia replied, ‘although it is amusing, which is a bonus.’

Ben’s eyes narrowed even though he still leaned lazily against the door. ‘And is that how you plan on spending the entire month?’

‘We-ell,’ Natalia drawled, ‘it will probably become boring before then. I’ll have to change tactics at some point.’

Ben stared at her hard for a moment, and Natalia lifted her chin. She would never admit how hard her heart was beating, how weak and vulnerable and scared she felt, having had to work through that pile of near-incomprehensible filing, and then to have Ben see how pitiful she was. She’d rather die than have him know any of it. Any of her weaknesses.

After a tense, silent moment he let out a reluctant laugh. ‘You really are amazing.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’m not sure I meant it as a compliment.’

‘I’ll take it as one, anyway.’

He laughed again, shaking his head. ‘Seriously, Natalia.’ Something skittered across her spine and then dove right into her heart at the sound of her name on his lips. Not a mocking princess, or a sardonic Your Highness. Just her name. Who she was.

‘Seriously?’ she repeated. ‘You want to be serious?’

‘I know it goes against your nature.’

‘Of course it does.’

‘It’s going to be a long month if you keep this up.’

She smiled and shrugged, but somehow she couldn’t quite manage a comeback quip. Not now. Not about this. Because the truth—the truth she never, ever wanted Ben Jackson to know—was she’d been trying as hard as she could with that stupid filing.

‘I know you want to get back at me,’ Ben continued, ‘and God knows, maybe I deserve it.’

‘It isn’t just God who knows.’

His mouth kicked up at the corner, and Natalia felt her heart beat even harder at the sight of his smile. ‘Still, for the sake of the children—’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘The children care about filing?’

‘You know what I mean.’ He spoke quietly, his voice thrumming with sincerity, and Natalia felt a twist of emotion inside, a softening and longing she couldn’t bear to feel. She shrugged again.

‘Like I said, I’ll have to change tactics. I get bored easily.’

He frowned, cocking his head, and Natalia had the strange sensation that he didn’t believe her. That he suspected she was lying, hiding—and she couldn’t have that.

Quickly she turned towards the door. ‘Is that all, Captain?’

‘For now.’

With a mock salute she disappeared back into the front room, and faced the files this time with a sigh of almost-relief. Ben Jackson was far too perceptive for her own comfort … or safety.

Ben stared at the door Natalia had just disappeared through, closing it firmly behind her, and frowned. That woman got under his skin. More than he liked. She annoyed and intrigued and invigorated him all at once, and it made him uneasy. Even a little angry. Women didn’t get close to him; no one did. Getting close meant losing control, and that was something Ben never did.

Yet from the moment Natalia had breezed into his life, she’d been chipping at the self-control he prided himself on. The cornerstone of who he was, for after witnessing his father’s three marriages, his mother’s life put into a desperate tailspin every time he strayed and it made the papers for everyone to see, Ben had no desire to let anyone close. Give anyone that kind of power.

And yet somehow Natalia already had it. She’d infuriated him the night of the engagement party with her sly innuendoes that he was running this camp for his own personal gain. And her suggestion that his family was somehow beneath her, what with her own wild-child antics splashed across the papers on a weekly basis… ?. She’d managed to insult him in the deepest, most personal way possible all in the space of a few minutes. Had she known instinctively that such insults would catch him on the raw? Ben knew he was sensitive about his family. Protective of his mother and sisters. How could he not be, when the press loved to lambast or ridicule them on an almost daily basis? And yet Princess Natalia courted that kind of coverage. The thought made him feel sick. How could a woman like her affect him this way? Make him want so much?

Today her snooty princess routine had also annoyed him, more than it should have, perhaps. He’d expected her time here would take her down a peg or two, not polish her pedestal. He hadn’t counted on his staff being wide-eyed and tongue-tied in her presence, or Natalia acting like some kind of Grace Kelly.

Yet even so, he shouldn’t be so bothered. He knew it wasn’t just Natalia’s workplace behaviour that was bothering him. Hell, he’d expected that. He certainly hadn’t thought she’d meekly slot herself into the office and be anything close to efficient or productive. He’d thought he’d even enjoy seeing her flounder a bit, watching her get nowhere with her airs and graces.

No, something else was making him hot under the collar, and he knew just what it was. Desire. Princess Natalia Santina was a beautiful woman. At the engagement party her charms had been obvious in a tiny, silver spangled dress that barely covered her bottom. He’d taken in those hazel cat’s eyes, lithe curves and endless legs and felt an expected kick of lust, easy to dismiss.

Yet today when she’d leaned across his desk and he’d seen the T-shirt stretch across her breasts, when he breathed in the citrusy scent of her perfume, something clean and fresh he hadn’t expected, when his gaze was inevitably drawn to her again and again, he felt more than just a normal kick of lust. He felt a deeper twist of longing he wasn’t ready to acknowledge, much less feel. When he saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes, when her pointed quips made him want to smile, when he enjoyed her company … he felt that longing inside of him twist harder and start to snap.

Control. He was losing it. He didn’t want to want this woman. In any way. He had enough to do arranging this camp, managing his own business and making sure his siblings stayed on a steady course. He didn’t need the complication of a woman—any woman, but especially one as dangerously high-profile as Princess Natalia.

Far better to steer clear of her except in the office, or he’d see himself splashed across the tabloids like the rest of his family, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Straightening, he pulled a sheaf of papers towards him and determined to work for the rest of the afternoon—and not give the aggravating princess another thought.

He stayed in his office until after seven, immersed in his work. He heard the muted farewells of the others leaving, the sound of the door closing, when he decided to finish up back at the beach house he’d rented for his time on the island. His equilibrium mostly restored, Ben grabbed his attaché and opened his office door, stopping abruptly when he saw Natalia still bent over the filing cabinet.

The first thing he noticed was the way her skirt pulled across the rounded curve of her bottom. Then he jerked his gaze upwards and realised she was still filing away. The thought shocked him, for if she was still here it meant she hadn’t been slow on purpose. So what was really going on? Ben had no idea, but this perplexing insight into the woman he wanted to dismiss made him pause. Frown.

She straightened and, seeming to sense his presence, turned. Ben noticed her guarded expression, her eyes veiled before she tilted her head and gave him a flirty smile. That was the expression he was used to seeing, yet it didn’t ring true right now.

‘You didn’t have to stay late.’

Natalia lifted one slender shoulder in a shrug. ‘I wanted to get the job done.’ She glanced at the remaining few files. ‘I’ve decided I despise filing.’

‘It is a bit tedious.’

‘That too.’ She tucked a strand of wheat-blonde hair behind her ear and turned back to the cabinet.

Ben saw how stiff her shoulders were, her whole body nearly vibrating with tension. She also looked exhausted, and to his own shock he found himself saying, ‘Let me finish it.’

‘I can do it—’ she insisted, surprisingly fierce, but Ben had already slotted the remaining files into the cabinet and closed the drawer. It had taken less than a minute. Why, he wondered, had it taken her hours? Surely even the most incompetent person could manage it quicker than that. Yet looking at her drawn face and shadowed eyes he didn’t think it had been some kind of revenge. She’d actually, in her own way, been trying.

‘So you finished your first day,’ he said lightly. He had come to stand quite close to her in order to finish the filing, and he was conscious of her slender form, the sweep of her satiny cheek, the way her chest rose and fell. He took a step back. ‘Congratulations.’

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