Princess Australia. Nicola Marsh

slippers?’

      Natasha laughed, more than a little disturbed that Ella’s preposterous questions elicited a thrill of excitement. What would it be like to be swept off her feet by a prince and spirited away to his castle to live happily ever after like the fairytales promised?

      Something you’ll never know about, her voice of reason screeched, and even the small romantic part of her that had survived Clay’s treachery, the part that still harboured dreams of finding the elusive ‘one’ despite what she’d been through, had to agree.

      ‘You can hold off on the slippers,’ Natasha said, watching Ella lean forward with an avid look on her face. ‘I don’t think I’m the prince’s type.’

      ‘But you’re gorgeous! You could have any man you want.’ Ella’s indignant quick-fire response brought an unexpected lump to Natasha’s throat.

      Ella had stuck by her through dating disasters, the Clay fiasco and her mum’s death. She was loyal, fierce and beautiful inside and out.

      ‘Thanks, but I think the prince has other fish to fry, so to speak. He’s going incognito for a week and has asked me to keep his identity a secret. He’s checked in under a false name, is parading around like an unshaven lout, and is determined to keep his true identity under wraps.’

      ‘Wow.’ Ella’s eyes widened, digesting the interesting news before her razor-sharp mind predictably focussed elsewhere. ‘Unshaven lout? I thought you said he looked pretty uptight.’

      ‘I was wrong.’

      Very wrong.

      An instant image of dazzling blue eyes, day-old stubble, tousled dark curls and a sexy smile flashed across her mind.

      ‘Uptight’ didn’t begin to describe what she thought of Dante.

      Unfortunately, some of what she was thinking must’ve shown on her face for Ella leaned closer and patted her forearm. ‘Okay, spill it. You’ve given me the official lips-zipped version. Now, tell me more about this prince. Is he hot?’

      Natasha smiled at Ella, who was an expert at picking up on nuances especially when they had anything to do with the male species.

      She could’ve avoided the question, danced around it or made up a whole heap of boring platitudes. Instead, Natasha sat back and fanned her face with a red-and-white checked serviette.

      ‘He’s hot.’

      Ella’s eyebrows shot up in a familiar sassy look that demanded the whole truth and nothing but the truth. ‘How hot?’

      Natasha stopped fanning her face, threw the serviette on the table and tapped her lips as if deep in thought when, in reality, she didn’t need time to ascertain how hot Dante was.

      She’d known the minute he’d strutted into the lobby, all six-feet-plus of testosterone-filled male with the body of a Greek god and the face of a model.

      ‘Tash, you’re killing me here,’ Ella said, her tone implicit with warning that, if Natasha didn’t spill soon, she’d drag it out of her.

      ‘Hang onto your latte, I’m trying to get my adjectives right. After all, how many ways can you say bad-boy babe with a smile that can make your knees wobble at twenty paces, and eyes that could melt a maiden aunt?’

      ‘He’s that good?’

      Natasha nodded, heat seeping into her cheeks at the memory of Dante’s eyes staring at her over their espressos, an unfathomable expression in the true-blue depths. ‘Better.’

      Ella squealed and clapped her hands. ‘This is fabulous.’

      ‘What’s fabulous?’

      ‘This is the first time I’ve heard you notice a guy in months, let alone sing his praises,’ Ella said, a genuinely pleased smile on her face. ‘You usually pretend guys don’t exist, or criticise my dates to hell and back, which is usually totally accurate by the way. Men can be scum. But this is fabulous. You’re into this guy. Who cares if he’s a prince? Time for you to have a little fun.’

      Natasha frowned, dread creeping through her. If she was negative about guys, she had reason to be. Clay had used her, hurt her and left a lasting legacy which still threatened those she loved the most. She couldn’t help the protective barriers she’d erected around her heart, but was she as bad as Ella made her sound?

      Usually she would’ve laughed it off, but maybe her friend had a point. Perhaps she’d sounded like a shrew the last few years? As for Ella’s other observation, that she was ‘into’ Dante, nothing could be further from the truth.

      ‘I’m not planning on having fun with the prince,’ Natasha said, ignoring her dormant devilish side which insisted it would be a blast to try. ‘He has asked me for a favour, that’s it. Once this week is over, I’m going to ask him for one and milk his presence in the hotel for all it’s worth.’

      Ella grinned. ‘You don’t think you’re protesting just a tad too hard?’

      ‘No!’

      Okay, so that had come out a bit too defensive. Natasha forced a smile and said, ‘Give it a break, will you? I’ve given you your gossip fix for the day, so lay off. Can’t a girl enjoy her mocha-cappa in peace?’

      As if on cue, Luigi bore down on their table bearing a tray filled with steaming mugs.

      ‘Ciao, bambinas. How are my favourite girls today?’

      He grinned broadly and placed the usual skinny latte in front of Ella and Natasha’s mocha-cappuccino directly into her outstretched hands. She needed the creamy blend of chocolate and coffee desperately. The earlier espresso with Dante had barely touched the sides; besides, she’d been too engrossed in listening to His Royal Sneakiness.

      Ella batted her eyelashes in the usual semi-flirtation she carried on with most men. ‘We’re fine, Luigi. And you?’

      The Italian, old enough to be her father, kissed his fingertips and threw his hand into the air. ‘All the better for seeing you, bella. Now, would you girls like anything else? Maybe some of my best tiramisu? Or better yet, you stay for dinner?’

      ‘We’re right for now, thanks,’ Ella said, her bold smile sending the old guy into another fit of finger-kissing, hand-throwing and wistful grinning.

      After Luigi had left, Natasha shook her head. ‘I swear you must’ve come out flirting with the doctors when you were born.’

      Ella shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk playing about her glossed mouth. ‘Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. Besides, the old guy loves it. And what better way to ensure we keep getting the best coffees this side of Carlton, huh?’

      Natasha chuckled and took another mouth-watering sip of her mocha-coffee blend. ‘You’re a menace.’

      ‘And you are changing the subject. Is there anything else about this prince I should know?’ Ella took a healthy slurp of her latte and sighed with pleasure.

      ‘No.’

      Though, try as hard as she could, Natasha couldn’t dispel the memory of Dante’s intense gaze as she’d handed over her card and he’d locked stares with her, his holding more than a hint of challenge. ‘The prince will go about his business, I’ll go about mine.’

      ‘We talking about funny business, here?’ Ella winked, and Natasha rolled her eyes before burying her twitching smile behind her giant mug.

      ‘No, I’m not interested, and besides he’s a prince,’ Natasha said, amused by Ella’s shenanigans despite herself.

      ‘And?’

      ‘And nothing.’

      Natasha’s response had a hollow ring to it and she knew it. However she wanted to explain it away, however she wanted to dress it up, the bizarre exchange with Dante hadn’t been ‘nothing’.

      Dante was