She opened her mouth, and he slapped the crystal on the table and moved toward her. When she scurried backward, her eyes widening, he checked his progress. He was on the edge of emotions he’d never felt before, torn between wanting to protect and destroy, and it made him reckless.
He snatched up the phone and pressed the button that would summon his housekeeper. When he put it down, Lily was chewing her lip, arms folded beneath her breasts as if to protect herself. Or to keep warm. The night was probably cooler than she was accustomed to in her native Louisiana. A tremor passed over her, confirming his observation. Beneath her shirt, her nipples peaked, small and tight, and goosebumps rose on her skin.
Nico swallowed, remembering how perfect her breasts had been when he’d first bared them to his sight. How responsive she’d been as she’d moaned and clutched his shoulders when he kissed the tight little points.
Dio, this was insane.
Nico shook the memories away and peeled off his jacket. “You are cold,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “Take this, cara.”
He placed the jacket on her shoulders and she clutched the material around her, thanking him softly. He turned his back on her and moved away.
He heard the intake of her breath, braced himself for what she might say next—but there was only silence for the longest while.
Finally, she spoke. “Nico, I’m sorry that—”
The door opened and the housekeeper entered, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say. Nico didn’t look at her again.
“Please show our guest to her room,” he told the woman awaiting his instructions. “And send someone to clean up the broken glass.”
Senora Mazetti gave a short bow and waited for Lily to join her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily remove the jacket and place it carefully over the back of the settee closest to her. Then she followed the housekeeper without complaint.
Lily awoke to the sound of china and silverware delicately clinking together. She sat up, yawning, and blinked as she tried to take in her surroundings. Brocade curtains hung from a canopy and were drawn back to let light filter into the giant bed. For a moment, she thought she’d been upgraded to the best suite the hotel had—but then she remembered.
She was in the palace, in Prince Nico’s apartment. If you could call a wing of a royal palace an apartment. And she was as much a prisoner here as she’d been in the dungeon cell of the old fortress.
A woman in uniform stood off to one side, fussing with a tray. She turned and popped a curtsy before coming forward and settling the tray laden with decorative bone china and polished silverware across Lily’s lap.
“His Highness says you are to eat and dress, signorina. He wishes you to join him in precisely one hour.”
The woman curtsied again and slipped out the door, closing it behind her. Lily started to set the tray aside, but the scents of coffee and food wafted up to her, reminding her how hungry she was. She’d been unable to eat during the twenty-four hours she’d spent in prison. Last night, all she’d wanted was to shower and sleep, but now her stomach rumbled insistently.
She thought about tossing on her clothes and trying to find a phone. Maybe she could call Carla and explain she was being held against her will. Or maybe she could call her boss and tell him she’d been kidnapped. She’d call the consulate herself except she couldn’t waste precious time looking for the phone number. Someone would help her, she was positive.
Her laptop, cell phone and passport had not been returned, naturally. Nico had cut off not only her outside contact with the world, but also any chance of escape. But Lily Morgan did not give up so easily, damn him.
Her stomach growled so hard it hurt, and she had to acknowledge that if she didn’t eat something now she wouldn’t get very far. Lily wolfed down the fresh bread and thinly sliced meats and cheeses along with a soft-boiled egg and two cups of strong coffee with cream.
Half an hour later, after she’d showered again and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she tried the door. It was unlocked and she slipped into the corridor, looking right and left. Which direction had she come from last night? She couldn’t remember, so she started down the hall and tried doors. When she emerged into the living room where Nico had coldly informed her she would be his wife, she stumbled to a halt, a shocked oh! escaping her. With bright sunlight spearing into the windows and through the terrace doors, the room glittered with gold and colored glass mosaic.
She dragged her gaze from the opulence of the room and searched for a phone, finally finding a landline on an inlaid cherry-wood table beside one of the velvet couches. Lily snatched it from the cradle, not sure who she should call first.
“You have to go through the palace operator, I’m afraid.”
Lily jumped and slammed the phone back down. Nico stood across from her, a newspaper in one hand, a fine china cup in the other. He was so tall and elegant. She didn’t usually think of men as elegant, but Nico was. Elegant, gorgeous, and so masculine he shot her pulse through the stratosphere just looking at him.
He wore a dark grey suit that was clearly worth more money than she’d ever made in six months of work. The fabric looked beyond expensive, perfectly tailored. He also wore a crisp white shirt with no tie and black loafers. A ruby signet ring glittered on his right hand.
“I want my phone back.”
“You will have a new phone, Lily. And many other things besides.” His gaze raked her from head to toe and she bit the inside of her lip. No doubt he saw a poor ragamuffin, a woman unfit to be a princess, and was disappointed. Well, by God, she was unfit to be a princess. Nor did she want to be. She would never, ever fit in here. It was preposterous.
Lily thrust her chin in the air. “I’ve reconsidered your offer,” she said. “You can visit Danny whenever you like, and I will bring him to Montebianco often, but it’s impossible for me to marry you. We’ll just have to manage another way.”
“Manage?” He set the cup and paper down and came over to where she stood, looming above her. He seemed surprised—or maybe he was amused—but quickly masked it with his trademark arrogance. “You have misunderstood once again, Liliana. There was no offer. There is simply what will be.”
“You can’t possibly want to marry me,” she said softly, staring up at him with her heart thudding into her throat. Did he have to be so darn breathtaking?
“What I want is of no consequence.”
“It’s not what I want.”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that two years ago.”
Lily blew out a breath. “I don’t think either of us was thinking much that night, do you?”
A muscle in Nico’s jaw ticked as he watched her. “Clearly not. But what about after, Lily? What about when you learned you were pregnant?”
She studied her clasped hands, suddenly unable to look at him. “I didn’t know who you really were.”
“But you found out. Why did you not contact me then?” His voice was controlled, as if he were struggling with his temper.
Lily put distance between them, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself. How could she tell him she’d been afraid? Afraid he would take her baby away and paradoxically afraid he’d be the kind of father she’d had growing up? Instead, she focused on the one truth that was easily explainable. “Assuming I could have figured out how to get past the layers between you and the public, would you have believed me?”