The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One) (22 page)

He pressed her up against the wall, her back sliding up and down on the smooth paint as he thrust inside her again and again. Her forearms rested on his muscular shoulders, her mouth locked with his as her fingers tugged hard on his hair.

It was different than the other night, even the time on the sink. Desperate, fast, hard, and she wanted to cry with the knowledge that it couldn’t last forever.
 

“Don’t stop,” she gasped into his lips.
 

Salvy complied, at least for another five minutes. He held her up while they both came, still kissing to try to muffle the sounds of pleasure.
 

“Oh my god,” she managed once her toes were back on the ground.
 

“My feelings exactly.” Salvy tugged his underwear, then his pants, back on, leaning in to kiss her silly again. “You are amazing.”

She had trouble believing him when he said things like that. It would be nice to not think about the scads of other women he’d been with, but that was easier said than done. Then she thought again about what they’d just done, and panic rose in her throat.

“Oh my god,” she said again, but the worry in Salvy’s eyes promised he heard the difference.
 

“What? Are you okay?”

“We didn’t use a condom.”

His eyes went wide, as though he’d just realized, and he propped himself up with one hand on the wall next to her head. “Shit, I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m always really careful, and I see a doctor every three months to be sure. You don’t have to worry about me, but…”

“I don’t think I’ll get pregnant,” she breathed, after doing some quick math in her head. Not impossible, of course, but not likely.
 

They breathed together for a few minutes. She was shocked that she hadn’t even thought about it, and neither had he. She would have to believe him about his usual vigilance. And pray.

“I don’t want to make things harder for you, Magdalena.”

“I want to make things harder for
you
,” she teased, trying to recapture the fun of the sex. Up against a wall. Jesus.

“You obviously do,” he said with a wry smile. “But I’m serious.”

“You’re not making anything hard for me, Salvy. You’re making things…interesting. And very, very hot. We’ll just be more careful.”

“Yes. Okay.” He looked as if he believed her this time, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “So, are you coming back to my place again or do I have to toss you over my shoulder and drag you?”

“That would not be very princely behavior,” she informed him, even as the mental image put a little tingle in her belly.
 

“For you,” he murmured, leaning in close, “I’m willing to risk it.”

A few blissful days passed, the only worry encroaching on her happiness the fact that she still hadn’t come up with a brilliant plan to rescue her father’s home. The preparations for the ball were in full swing and she’d left Salvy asleep before dawn, needing to shower and change and get back to the workroom before the majority of the staff showed up. The last thing Maggie needed was questions, and she, like her father, always made sure she was the first one in the room.
 

When she got there, she found that a letter had arrived at the palace, addressed to her. It lay on her desk in a nondescript, white envelope. There was no return address but the stamp said it came from Cielo, and her full name was listed on the front in a simple print. No frills.

Her fingers shook as she picked it up. It was unexpectedly thick, and when she used a pair of scissors to split it open, a stack of photographs fell out.
 

Magdalena’s heart sank into her stomach as she saw her own naked body, and Salvadore’s, through the windows of his house. In the alcove.
 

Whoever took them had access to the grounds, and the illusion of security at the palace shattered around her like glass. Panic grabbed her lungs and squeezed. She pulled out a single sheet of paper, unsurprised by the Matrigna header.
 

Miss Rossi -
 

It appears now that you have as much of a reason to sell as your father. If Gabriel doesn’t meet my deadline, the Prince won’t be the only person who’s bared it all in front of the world.
 

No signature at the bottom, but it wasn’t necessary. It didn’t matter, honestly, not anymore. These pictures would kill her father, and not only that, they would kill her chances at a future here in Cielo. She’d be labeled as just another one of Prince Salvy’s whores, another woman who couldn’t keep her clothes on in the face of his piercing blue eyes, strong jaw, chiseled body, and the promise of a crown.

No. That wasn’t why she lo…cared for Salvadore. She fought the idea with a ferocity that surprised her, but on its heels came a rush of acceptance.

It didn’t matter why she’d slept with him. Whoever owned Matrigna didn’t care, and the tabloids sure as hell wouldn’t. She tried and failed to imagine the looks on her friends’ faces, especially Camilla’s. They would think her a horrible hypocrite, after the way she’d criticized Salvadore’s behavior.

No one but the two of them knew how close they’d been growing up, how long she’d been pushing down her feelings for him. No one would care.

She started to calm down, and when the door banged open and two of her younger seamstresses came in, laughing, she stuffed the pictures back into the envelope and then slid the whole thing into her purse. Once the initial hyperventilation stage had ended, her mind started to work on the problem of the pictures. Her brain turned over who, exactly, would have the access to get them while she worked on Elisa’s outfit for the ball, her lips pinched around a dozen straight pins.
 

It had been silly to think that her new arrangement with the prince would go unnoticed by palace security, Maggie realized now. Salvadore must have known that, too, which meant he trusted the men around him. And that was obviously a mistake.
 

Magdalena thought whoever was behind Matrigna must have at least some of the guards on their payroll. Maybe a lot of them. There was no other way they could have gotten their hands on pictures like that so quickly. The camera looked as if it had been right outside Salvadore’s windows. She had no idea how they’d gotten the ones in the alcove. Security cams?

The thought made her drop half the pins she was holding.

“You okay?” Delia, one of her oldest employees, gave her a sidelong look. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” Maggie mumbled, dropping to gather the scattered pins. It was hard to see through the disbelief blooming in front of her eyes.
 

If they’d been caught on security cameras in the workshop, would the King know? Would Luca? All of her fears about losing her position at the palace, over jeopardizing Salvy’s future credibility with the people, crowded in tight. Her own future, the dream clothing line and scattered boutiques, wavered.
 

Maggie pressed a hand to the floor, the cool tile helping with the waves of dizziness. Delia’s strong hands pressed against the back of her neck and then helped her to her feet and into a chair.
 

“You’re not okay. Are you getting enough sleep?”

For some reason, the question made Maggie laugh. She was definitely not getting enough sleep, because she and Salvadore couldn’t keep their hands off each other for more than a couple of hours at a time. This morning, there was no denying that this thing she’d agreed to, this thing that was beautiful and hot and unbelievable and that would destroy her in a few short weeks, was no longer a secret. Maybe it never was.

Perhaps it had been stupid to believe it could be; the activities of a royal were never their own. Salvy had been caught by his handlers on those cameras as a child committing a wide array of offenses. He never got away with anything.

“I’ll be fine,” she told Delia, managing a smile.
 

She didn’t look convinced. “I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

“Thanks.”

Maggie wasn’t convinced, either. Now that she knew that, like the child princes she’d grown up with in this place, she wasn’t getting away with anything, either.

All she could do was hope that if her father sold out to Matrigna by the deadline, all of this would go away. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t think that would happen. If the situation with the land buyouts had shown her anything, it was that secrets never stayed hidden forever.

And the naked kind tended to bubble up to the surface faster than most.

Chapter Seventeen

Salvadore

Salvadore bit his tongue to stop himself from asking Magdalena what was wrong for the tenth time in as many minutes. She’d knocked on his door on her own this evening, several hours earlier than they had been seeing each other, which surprised him. He was glad that he’d told James that she was to be admitted past security at any time of the day or night, no questions asked.

The man hadn’t even raised an eyebrow. God love him.

She’d come to him on her own, and it made his heart lift like he never believed possible, but now…she was distant. They’d poured wine, and James had knocked on the door with food she continued to pick at, but Salvy wasn’t getting any answers.
 

“Long day?” he tried instead, watching for her reaction.

Her dark eyes were wary. They put up a wall between her feelings and his understanding and he wanted to smash something to get at them. But there was nothing to smash. Finesse had never been his strong suit. Not out of the bedroom, anyway.
 

“A bit. You’ll have to come see Elisa’s costume, though. It’s turning out great.” She sipped her wine. “I asked Niccolo to bring her in tomorrow or the next day so I can make sure it’s going to hang right.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect.”
Like you.

He shook himself, thanking the heavens that last part hadn’t slipped out. It annoyed him that she insisted on calling the clothes for the ball and the wedding costumes, as though the whole thing was a production, some kind of farce.

Perhaps the description hit too close to home.

Magdalena slid onto his lap, snapping him to attention. Her mouth covered his, her tongue insistent as it slipped past his lips. Even though he responded, something about the moment felt wrong. As if she was using sex to distract him, and after having her multiple times, he could feel the difference.
 

As riled as she made him, he wouldn’t have that. Not with her. She would be willing for all the right reasons or he wouldn’t have her at all.

“What?” she said when he eased back, framing her face with his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Talk to me, Magdalena. I’m right here.”

Frustration ripped through her expression and she tried to pull away. He held on tight, felt the moment she gave up trying to put space between them. He wouldn’t let her do that. Not when they had so little time.

She’d always been a frustratingly close-mouthed girl. Maybe because she’d been the only girl among boy playmates, and maybe because they’d teased her every time she’d cried, but their Moo Moo had never wanted to wear her feelings out where they could pick at them.

But something was wrong, and he wanted to fix it.
 

Goddammit, why? What was different about her?

You know what’s different about her
, a voice whispered.
She’s never been like the others, and she’s never been comfortable asking for favors. That’s why, when she ran away all those years back, you let her go. Coward.
 

He had been a coward. But was he still?

“It’s nothing.” Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lower lip in that sexy way she had. He remembered last night, the way she’d sucked his thumb between them, and almost lost his will not to have her until she came out with whatever troubled her.

“It’s something. Let me be your friend, Maggie. I’ve always been that.”

“Have you?” The wariness returned to her gaze, but it couldn’t quite hide the anger there. Salvy waited, gritting his teeth into dust because he knew her, goddammit. Pushing would get him nowhere. Finally, she sighed and leaned her forehead against his. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. It wasn’t as if we didn’t all know that our friendship couldn’t have lasted forever the way it was. You were the strong one, staying away.”