Chapter Three #2
But she wasn’t a royal and never would be on Orazio’s scale.
His family had been on the throne for generations, acting, real royals in Mandovia with people bowing and curtsying around them and treating them like rare, refined jewels to be treasured.
Her mother had been adored, perhaps because her acts of kindness, charity and compassion had stood out as such a contrast to her husband’s brutal regime.
But she hadn’t been adored for the blood in her veins or deemed royal in the same way as Orazio Arcangeli.
And Zia worried that if she seemed to act too high or fancy, people wouldn’t take to her at all.
The next fortnight evaporated in a blur of endless memorising and clothes fittings. Garments came and went, returned for final fitting adjustments, and her wardrobe steadily expanded.
Most evenings, Raz phoned her, occasionally filling her in on his own routine but more often questioning her about what she was learning. She relaxed with him more with every phone call, grateful that she had someone in her life who understood the steep learning curve she was on.
Orazio landed back on the yacht three weeks later, accompanied by Fiero and his fiancée, Allegra, generally known as Allie to her friends.
His first view of Zia was long distance and she was in the pool being taught how to swim by his captain’s first officer, Pietro.
‘The Princess is a very quick learner. Once we realised that she was unable to swim, we knew that was a problem because naturally you will want to take her into the water,’ the captain of the Sea Empress pointed out.
‘Naturally,’ Fiero mocked in Orazio’s ear. ‘Particularly if she’s a five-foot-tall pocket Venus with the face of a Botticelli angel.’
‘Enough!’ Raz snapped in an undertone to his friend, who had ribbed him mercilessly throughout the previous week when he made a last-minute trip to Paris to conclude his arrangement with Crystal and then worked twice as hard as usual to free up his weekend to return to Türkiye.
‘You’re aware that I invited you and Allie to join us as chaperones. ’
‘Invite the old lady to join us. She’ll be twice as effective as we could ever be. I don’t think you’ve ever listened to my advice in your life,’ Fiero sighed.
Orazio ignored him, picking up binoculars to spy on Zia’s swimming lesson in the pool on the deck below.
She wore a red costume that hugged her God-given, glorious curves like a glove and the tenor of his breathing roughened.
He didn’t like seeing another man’s hands on her even in the water, even if the man involved was old enough to be her father and the parent of two teenaged daughters himself.
His staff had been reporting back on her to him from the start.
He had been told that she learned fast, had an excellent memory and also spoke reasonably good Spanish, which would be welcome news to the rural occupants of the mountains of Upper Mandovia, which rejoiced in many families of Spanish extraction.
Zia was eager for the swimming lesson to conclude because she was very much aware that Orazio was back on board and she didn’t want to greet him with wet hair and no make-up.
Donning a towelling wrap, she thanked Pietro for teaching her and hastened back to her cabin, wondering who the guests were that Orazio had returned with.
She raced into the shower, making full use of the excellent toiletries she now had at her disposal.
Make-up too and right now she had more clothes than she had ever seen outside a big shop, reckoning that it would be hard to return to ordinary life after being plunged into such luxury.
It had been a long few weeks during which she had learned all sorts of new things.
She could now walk in high heels, without looking down all the time afraid to trip, and with her head held high.
She could put on make-up too, when previously she had only ever owned lipstick.
Now, her heart thumping like a road drill inside her chest, she flipped through her newly extensive wardrobe and chose a blue cocktail frock to wear, tagged by a helpful PR lady as perfect for a dinner date.
She wanted Orazio to see the change in her and appreciate the extent of the makeover that she had received.
Even her hair had been expertly trimmed and styled so that it fell effortlessly into place.
Orazio dressed up more than he usually did for dinner because, helpfully, he had been informed that the Princess was dressing up.
He agreed to eating the Princess’s favourite dessert as well, as apparently the chef was one of her new fans.
He also noticed that an inordinate number of the crew were hovering when he arrived in the saloon to join his guests for drinks.
He hadn’t realised that his very first meeting with Zia would be put under so much scrutiny and it unnerved him a little.
And then Zia arrived and performed the most perfect curtsy in the doorway in spite of her towering heels.
He wanted to laugh at the formality but he knew she would be furious if he did, so his lean bronzed features merely stiffened as his attention raked over her, emerald-green eyes vibrant with interest. She walked towards him, all dignity abandoned as she chattered constantly.
‘I knew you were back but I was in the pool and I didn’t want to drip over you…
and I wanted you to see how much better I look now, all gussied up like a fancy Christmas turkey for public consumption.
’ And she said all that without drawing breath and he was laughing and moving to greet her before he even knew what he was doing.
‘You looked amazing before I left and now you simply look more amazing,’ Orazio asserted, grasping her fluttering, uncertain hands and pulling her closer.
‘Amazing,’ he repeated stubbornly, his gaze roaming over the shiny blue-black strands of hair framing her exquisite face, the brilliance of her bright eyes and the smile on her lush pink mouth.
His eyes lingered there on the soft plump curve of her inviting lower lip and arousal skated through him in an unwelcome sizzle of awakening lust, making him step back.
Fiero cleared his throat to remind him that he had company.
‘This is Fiero Cattaneo. My executive assistant, business manager, go-to for everything, best friend,’ Raz introduced warmly. ‘And Allegra Abate, his fiancée and soon to be his wife, always known as Allie—’
‘We’re getting hitched next month,’ a tall, attractive blonde stepped forward to announce and Zia was pleased to notice that she herself was similarly clad.
A fear of somehow getting something wrong seemed to cloud her every thought, she conceded ruefully, knowing that she would have to overcome that dread and learn to handle the mistakes she was certain to make.
The company was lively over the meal that followed and she relaxed.
Straight away it was obvious to Zia that Orazio, Fiero and Allie were longstanding friends.
Fiero and Allie had both had parents employed by or attached to the court and had been frequent visitors to the royal castle as children.
Allie now ran an event-planning business that handled some of the formal occasions held at the castle.
Zia had only one glass of wine, sticking to water the rest of the time, mindful that she had to be careful in company.
She ignored Orazio’s attempts to pour her a second glass, irritated enough to glare at him the third time he tried to top up her glass.
‘No!’ she said, louder than she had intended, seeing his hard jawline flex and tighten and belatedly aware that she had been too blunt again.
‘Why not?’ he demanded, infuriating her.
‘You know why not,’ she pointed out thinly.
He slanted her a glittering smile that made her heart skip a beat and flushed colour into her cheeks. ‘But you were so cute,’ he teased.
‘I don’t aspire to be cute,’ Zia told him without hesitation. ‘I’ll be in Mandovia to perform a job and I intend to do it to the best of my ability. I can’t afford to drink and let my guard down.’
‘And that’s me told,’ Orazio quipped with amusement, gleaming green eyes roaming over her compressed lips and exasperated gaze.
‘Unlike you, I won’t be given a licence to be whoever I want to be. I’ll be scrutinised and criticised and I won’t make myself a target—’
‘You’re right,’ Allie responded. ‘I guess the PR team have been warning you of all the pitfalls of public life.’
Zia smiled and nodded, reclaiming her relaxation in receipt of that understanding.
Orazio had become a much-wanted monarch because he had refused the throne when it was first offered to him, only surrendering once he realised how many people were eager for him to continue in the steps of his family predecessors.
Nobody had warned him that one false step could condemn him in the eyes of all because everybody was aware that he had been raised to become King by his father and he’d already known the score.
‘You shouldn’t flirt with Zia either,’ Fiero warned quietly. ‘That will only encourage rumours.’
‘I wasn’t flirting with her.’
‘You were,’ Zia contradicted apologetically. ‘Maybe it comes so naturally to you that you don’t realise you’re doing it.’
‘I’ll be more circumspect once we’re back in Mandovia,’ Orazio swore with pleasure. ‘May I ask how you learned Spanish?’