Modern Romance Collection: December Books 5 - 8. Julia James

here? It hardly seemed possible that just a few hours ago she had been planning to make do and mend to raise a child she already loved. In the palace she was surrounded by so much...everything. The five-star hotel she’d thought so lavish was a mere potting shed compared to this. She had to stop short of pinching herself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. When a knock came at the door and it opened without Callie saying a word, she sprang up guiltily.

      ‘Oh, sorry, madam, I—’

      ‘No—please, come in. And please call me Callie...’

      Callie paled as the maid stood back against the wall to allow a team of footmen to wheel several gown rails into the room. These were laden with a sparkling array of full-length ball gowns. Cinderella had nothing on this, Callie concluded, frowning. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she said.

      ‘No mistake, madam,’ the maid assured her. ‘As it’s rather short notice, His Serene Highness apologises for not sending you an invitation to the ball, but he wants you to know that you are free to choose any of these dresses to wear.’

      ‘His Serene Highness expects me to attend the ball?’

      ‘He does, madam.’

      Then, His Serene High and Mightiness could have the courtesy to come and tell her that himself, Callie thought, but she thanked the maid, who was the innocent messenger. ‘I hope this hasn’t put you to too much trouble?’

      ‘None at all, madam. As soon as you’ve made your choice, if you ring this bell...’ the maid indicated a silken tassel hanging on the wall ‘...I’ll return immediately to help you dress.’

      ‘The ball’s tonight?’ Callie exclaimed in panic.

      ‘Oh, no, madam. This is just to give you chance to choose your gown and try it on. The Prince has instructed me to tell you that he will be with you by seven o’clock this evening to discuss your choice of gown.’

      Hmm, Callie thought. And take it off, if she knew Luca. She couldn’t imagine he cared less what she wore. He was far more interested in removing her clothes.

      As soon as the maid had gone, she walked over to the rail to check out the selection of dresses. She’d never seen so many fabulous outfits before. There were gowns in every colour in the rainbow. Some were beaded, some had frills, and some had gauzy ribbon. Nearly all of them had low necks, and/or big slits up the side and plunging backs. She guessed she was ungrateful for thinking all of them a bit over the top. She was frightened to touch them in case she soiled them, but she had to choose one. Picking out an aquamarine gown, her favourite colour, she held it up against her, but it was so heavily beaded it weighed a ton. She had to admit that the scent of fine silk, and the sight of such expert tailoring, did take her breath. There was boning inside the bodice, so no need to wear a bra, and the skirt was such a slender column, she’d have to hop, Callie reflected wryly as she returned it to the rail.

      One after the other she discarded the dresses. She couldn’t see herself wearing any of them. They were far too fancy, and didn’t look at all comfortable to wear. Crossing the room, she rang the bell.

      ‘Yes, madam?’ the maid enquired politely.

      ‘We’re around the same size. Could you lend me a pair of jeans and a top so I can go shopping?’ There must be a high street in Fabrizio, she reasoned.

      ‘Go shopping, madam?’ the maid repeated as if Callie had suggested dancing naked in the street. ‘I’ll have a selection of outfits delivered to you within the hour.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Okay, but be sure to give me the—’ Before she had chance to say, ‘receipt, so I can pay the bill,’ the maid had left the room and closed the door.

      Callie heaved a sigh. What was she supposed to do now? She tried to ring Luca, but that was like trying to get hold of the Queen of England. She went through half a dozen people and none of them would put her through to him. It was already nine o’clock in the evening. He’d left her alone to stew. Talking of which, she was hungry. Picking up the internal phone, she rang the kitchen to order a tray of sandwiches and a pot of tea. Hmm. So much for the high life! And so much for the discussions they were supposed to be having. Could matters of State be so much more important than their child?

      She drank the tea, ate the sandwiches, then walked around the apartment until she knew every inch of it by heart. It was a gilded cage for the Prince’s pet bird, Callie concluded. It was impersonal. The drawers were empty. There wasn’t even a book to be found. There certainly wasn’t anything as crass as a TV. Opening the glass doors onto her private veranda, she sat down at the wrought-iron table. Listening to the night sounds soothed her. It was a beautiful evening, but where was Luca? She should have known by now that sex meant nothing to him, and he could just walk away, forget it, forget her.

      She went back into the room when it began to get chilly. She’d forgotten that the maid had promised to have more clothes delivered, and the room was full of them. She couldn’t deny that rooting through the boxes and carrier bags was fun. Choosing a pair of jeans and a loose sports top, she exchanged her fluffy robe for a casual look that would take her through to bedtime.

      More tea?

      More tea.

      She was just concluding, with a return of good humour, that wading through such a vast selection of clothes was exhausting, when the door opened and Luca walked in.

      ‘Tea, madam?’

      She almost jumped out of her skin. Even with a tray of tea in his hands, he was everything she could desire in a man. Dark, tall, and powerfully built. She would never get used to the breath-stealing sight of him. He’d changed into jeans and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Those arms! His jeans were cinched with a heavy-duty belt that drew attention to his washboard waist. His shoulders were epic and his powerful forearms were tanned and shaded with just the right amount of dark hair.

      Those arms belonged around her, she concluded, forgetting her good intentions as he strode across the room. She was supposed to be having a serious discussion with him, not falling victim to his dazzling charm. Be objective, she told herself firmly.

      ‘Ah, the dresses have arrived,’ he commented as his stare swept over the gown rail. ‘Now for the fashion show.’ Throwing himself down on a finely upholstered chaise longue, he made a gesture she could only presume was supposed to goad her into action.

      ‘Are you going to model them for me, then?’ she asked. ‘You mentioned a fashion show?’ she prompted when Luca raised a brow.

      For a moment he looked bemused and then he laughed. ‘You never change, do you?’

      ‘I hope not. Hooking up in a car does not a future make, Prince Luca. You and I have some serious talking to do.’

      ‘Soon,’ he promised. ‘But first a toast,’ he insisted, standing up.

      ‘In tea?’ she queried.

      ‘I can send for champagne—’

      ‘I can’t—’

      ‘Of course you can’t.’ With a grimace, he reached for her, and, jerking her close, he linked their fingers in a way she found very hard to resist. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, slanting a grin. ‘I had forgotten why we’re here for the moment.’

      ‘Don’t,’ she warned with a straight look into his eyes.

      ‘I was about to propose a toast to the heir to the principality of Fabrizio,’ he explained.

      She hummed. ‘In that case, I’ll forgive you.’

      When Luca smiled his wicked smile, if it hadn’t been for the sexual tension between them they were close enough in that moment to be just two friends enjoying a moment of trust between themselves.

      ‘Have you chosen your ball gown yet?’ he asked, turning to glance at the packed gown rail.

      ‘I