Diamonds are Forever. Кэрол Мортимер

she reached the inner district of the prosperous city bursting with boutiques, sidewalk cafés, art galleries, restaurants, souvenir shops and jewelry boutiques. The display of diamonds attracted droves of people milling about from every country in the world.

      Alex entered one of the crowded souvenir shops. By the time it came her turn to check out with one of her traveler’s cheques, she’d loaded up with a map of the Principality of Castelmare, a tiny Italian-English phrase book and a picture book on Castelmare’s House of Savoy from past to present printed in Italian. There were photos of Lucca and his family. She couldn’t wait to study them.

      Two doors up she spied a restaurant. The delicious smells coming from inside made her realize she was hungry. When she checked her watch, she was surprised to discover it was quarter to eight. With the sun setting later, she’d been deceived into thinking it was much earlier.

      Better eat now. No way would she go back to the palace and ask for a meal, but this place was packed. She stood around with her packages waiting for someone to leave.

      “Mademoiselle? Signorina? Miss?” a male voice called to her.

      For a while she ignored the guy sitting in one of the crowded booths, but he persisted in trying to get her attention. Finally she looked over at him. He was with a bunch of college-aged guys and girls talking and laughing.

      The student singling her out could be one of any number of dark-haired Mediterranean types. Obviously there was room for one more in the booth. He stood up and made an extravagant gesture for her to sit down. Soon everyone was beckoning her over.

      Why not? She was hungry and tired.

      “Thank you,” she said as he took her sack from her and put it under the table by her legs. He had an inviting smile and was just her height.

      “Hello,” everyone said with their heavy Italian accents. The friendly crowd proceeded to introduce themselves.

      “My name is Fabbio.”

      “I’m Alex.”

      He frowned. “You have man’s name?”

      “It’s short for Alexandra.”

      “Ah … very classy.” Alex chuckled. “My English is not good?”

      “It’s very good. My Italian’s terrible. Have you eaten here before?”

       “Si.”

      “What’s that called?” She stared at his meal.

      “Pasta.”

      She could see that.

      “You like?”

      “Yes.”

      “I get it for you.” He called to the waiter, and before long a plate of hot pasta with potatoes and beans was placed in front of her. While they all conversed in spates of Italian, then English, she ate her dinner. Her first mouthful was so delicious she consumed everything in short order. The five of them shared a bottle of wine. He poured her a glass. “Drink.”

      “Thank you very much.”

      The fruity flavored rosé served for her dessert. She hadn’t had a glass of wine in years. This was the perfect setting for it.

      He pulled a flier out of his pocket. “You want to come?” She took a look at it. Some kind of concert was being held in the city. Before she could turn him down she heard footsteps coming closer, then a deep male voice said, “Bellissima—I’m sorry I’m late.”

      The whole restaurant went silent.

      Her head whipped around in time to see Lucca standing there in the same clothes he’d had on earlier, but he was wearing sunglasses. A gasp escaped her throat. He was supposed to be with someone else. At least, that was why she’d left the palace in the first place, so he could go to her.

      Alex was so shocked to see him here, her mouth went dry. She couldn’t get any words out. Neither could the clientele who had recognized the crown prince and were obviously stunned to see him walk in here of all places.

      Before she could credit it, Lucca lowered his mouth to hers in what could only be construed as a possessive kiss, urgently coaxing her lips apart. Caught off guard she welcomed the electrifying invasion of that incredibly male mouth. Her body reeled in response.

      Scarcely aware of what was happening, she realized he’d pulled some Euros from his wallet and put them on the table. Still speaking English he said to the others, “Enjoy the concert.”

      In a lightning move he retrieved her sack from beneath the table. Her body couldn’t stop weaving from the excitement of his kiss as he helped her to her feet. She smiled at Fabbio. “Thank you for being so nice to a stranger.”

      He nodded, still tongue-tied.

      Lucca escorted her from the restaurant. A black limo stood parked outside. The net of bodyguards had increased. She thought Carlo gave her a frown before Lucca climbed in the back next to her and shut the door behind him.

      Halfway to the palace she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Obviously, I don’t know all the rules yet, but was it absolutely necessary for you to do what you did just now?”

      “I’m afraid so,” he muttered in an oblique tone. “In three weeks the world will know you’re my wife, but those students will remember that you went into the restaurant unaccompanied and responded to an invitation to sit with them. I’m aware you accepted because there was no other place available, but from their point of view you looked and acted like you welcomed his attention.

      “I wouldn’t want the incident, no matter how inconsequential it might have seemed in your eyes, to reach my parents’ ears.”

      “Of course not.” She felt sick inside. “I honestly didn’t think. Forgive me, Lucca. I promise it won’t ever happen again.”

      He extended his legs and crossed his arms. “It’ll happen again and again because you’re the kind of woman a man can’t forget. From now on, all you have to do when you’re out by yourself for any reason is to remember that you’re already taken. Let the interested party know where he stands before he weaves fantasies about being alone with you.”

      “No man has ever had dreams about me.”

      “That’s not what one of your bodyguards reported. Apparently the young boy and his friends had a bet to see how long it would take him to bed the goddess standing inside the doorway.”

      Her cheeks went crimson. “Then the bodyguard made it up!”

      “A lie to me could cost him his job and worse.”

      Alex shivered. “It was all a big mistake. I shopped too long and then I got hungry.”

      “You could have eaten at the palace. That’s your home now.”

      “But I didn’t want to bother anyone this late.”

      Instead of commenting, he asked a question. “How did you like your trenette?”

       “Trenette?”

      “It’s what you had for dinner. Pasta Ligurian style.”

      “Oh … I loved it!”

       “Bene.”

      She darted him a furtive glance. “Your parents will probably hear about my big faux pas and consider me unfit to be your wife. They’d be right!”

      “I’ll tell them about it as soon as we get back to the palace, then it won’t matter when they hear it distorted on the news.”

      Alex let out a small cry. She was a fool, just like her mother whose antics were made into the news every night of the week.

      “Like parasites, the paparazzi live on their hosts. Over the years I’ve learned the best defense is offense,” he explained.

      She