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CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT?’ Natalia heard the outraged screech of her own voice echo against the walls of her father’s audience chamber. He did too, obviously, for he winced slightly even as he lifted a paper from an ornate end table and scanned it with seemingly little interest.

‘Please lower your voice, Natalia, and conduct yourself as a princess.’

Natalia nearly shook with disbelief—and anger. ‘And princesses,’ she asked, ‘spend their days coaching football for the ragtag children of—’

‘These children,’ King Eduardo reminded her coldly, ‘are the citizens of your country. You have a duty to them.’

‘A duty to teach them football?’ Natalia was quite sure her father and mother’s duty did not extend much beyond the palazzo walls, unless it was making a speech or giving a little royal wave.

King Eduardo sighed and dropped the paper, turning to Natalia as if she were really rather wearying. It had already irritated her that he’d called her to him in this audience chamber, an ancient and ornate room that was meant for commoners to present their petitions to their king, not conversations within the family. Standing in front of him, the royal throne decked out in gold leaf between them, she felt at a distinct disadvantage. Still, she hadn’t expected this.

‘Natalia, the truth of the matter is, I think volunteering could be beneficial for you—’

‘Beneficial—’

‘Let me speak,’ Eduardo said sharply, and Natalia, chastened, fell silent. She could not afford to anger her father now. ‘You have been running around for far too long, living an inappropriate and extravagant lifestyle. I was willing to overlook it because of your impending marriage to Prince Michel, but since he has broken the engagement—causing some significant humiliation to our family—I see that other measures need to be taken.’

Natalia bit her lip, hard, to keep from speaking. She knew she’d been pushing the boundaries of her parents’ acceptance with her partying. Of course, the tabloids exaggerated everything, but in her parents’ world frequenting a nightclub was already skirting the perimeter of propriety. Yet what was she supposed to do? She didn’t have a decent education, she couldn’t work and she didn’t fancy spending her days the way her mother did, dressing up for lunch, taking tea at a certain hour and waving at the masses from the balcony. And at least when she went out with a wilder crowd, she knew that was what the press would focus on. Nothing else.

‘In any case,’ her father continued, his tone utterly implacable, ‘it has come to my attention that a bit of positive publicity could be very good for you, as well as this family. When I consider Sophia—’

‘Sophia?’ Natalia repeated, unable to hold her tongue any longer. ‘What has Sophia done?’ Sophia never did anything wrong. The press loved her, and her father had announced her engagement to Prince Rodriguez last night at Alex and Allegra’s engagement party, to much acclaim. Unlike Natalia, Sophia was doing everything right. Wasn’t she?

‘Never mind,’ Eduardo said sharply. ‘The point is, I think your volunteering is an excellent idea, and I told Ben Jackson so. You are to start on Tuesday.’ He turned to face his daughter, his dark eyes steely with determination. ‘And do not think of defying me, Natalia, or you will find yourself without a penny, and an armed bodyguard making sure you do as you are told.’

Natalia swallowed. She was quite aware that her father’s threat was real, unlike her own to Ben Jackson the other night. And the thought of being penniless and virtually imprisoned did not appeal to her at all. For a blinding second she hated being a princess, hated its restrictions and regulations, the oppressive expectation of royal duty, the secrets and shame she was forced to hide.

‘Very well, Father,’ she finally managed. ‘I will do my best to be a credit to you and the Santina family.’

Her father waved his hand in obvious dismissal, and burning with frustration, Natalia swept out of the chamber. She stood in the opulent front hallway of the palazzo, half a dozen liveried guards flanking the various arched doorways. She could not volunteer for Ben Jackson. The thought filled her with a panicky fear that she couldn’t bear to feel. Too much was out of her control. Too many possibilities of being humiliated, exposed—and by Ben Jackson, smirking in triumph.

The thought made her stomach churn and she felt physically sick. She had her reasons for acting the way she did, hiding in plain sight. She did not want Ben guessing them. Knowing them. Knowing her.

Natalia drew a deep breath and threw her shoulders back. Very well. If she could not convince her father to drop this ridiculous scheme, then she would have to convince the other man involved. She would talk to Ben Jackson himself.

Ben heard the gasps of shock from the reception area of his rented office and leaned back in his chair, smiling in anticipation. That had been quick.

A second later the door to his office burst open and Princess Natalia Santina stood there, her slanted hazel cat’s eyes narrowed and glittering with fury. With her blond pixie hair cut and her long, lithe body, she looked, Ben thought, a bit like an elf. A rather naughty elf. He couldn’t quite forget the image of her in that indecent dress last night. It had barely covered her bottom. Then she’d looked like sex in high heels; now she looked every inch the elegant princess, wearing a pink linen shift, high heeled slingback sandals and wraparound sunglasses which she’d pushed up onto her head. She also looked utterly furious. Ben smiled.

‘Ah, so prompt, Princess. But I believe I arranged with your father for you to start on Tuesday?’ He let his smile widen. He could practically see the steam coming from her ears. ‘So consider this a twenty-four-hour reprieve.’

Natalia took a step into the room. Her chest heaved, although when she spoke her voice was level. ‘You cannot really think,’ she said coldly, ‘to go through with this … this ridiculous idea.’

So she was going to try and play the princess card. Ben laced his hands behind his head and lounged back in his chair. ‘Oh, but I can,’ he assured her. ‘Your father was really quite taken with it.’

‘My father—’ She bit off the words, looking like she wanted to chew them up and spit them out.

‘Thought it would be good for you,’ Ben filled in helpfully.

Natalia glared. ‘I know what my father thinks, thank you very much.’

‘Then there’s no problem.’

She drew a deep breath. ‘There is very much a problem, Mr—’

‘Ben.’

‘Ben.’

She was so very angry. Really, Ben thought idly, she looked rather magnificent when she was furious. Her eyes glittered and her cheeks were flushed, her breasts heaving underneath the snug pink linen of her dress. He could almost imagine what she would be like in bed.

Natalia Santina was a woman who gave as good as she got. The thought of matching her between the sheets had a distinct appeal … and one Ben knew he would have to resist. He chose his affairs with care and discretion, two words he could not apply to the princess. But he was looking forward to being her boss.

Natalia took another step into the room. She drew a breath and let it out slowly, smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress. Ben braced himself for a new tactic. ‘Look,’ she said, and her voice was pitched low, appealing. Sexy. He banished the thought and looked alert and interested, as if he might actually change his mind.

‘I know we were winding each other up last night, but that’s all it really was.’ She smiled, playfully, and despite his best intentions to remain unmoved Ben felt his pulse kick up a notch. This woman really affected him, in more ways than he cared to admit. Again he questioned the wisdom of having her here, flitting around, smiling so sexily. No, he could handle it. He would stay in control. Always. He smiled blandly back.

‘Was it?’

Irritation flashed in those hazel eyes. ‘You know it was. I can’t actually … participate in this camp of yours.’

Her tone invited him to share the absurdity of such a concept and, smiling regretfully, Ben shook his head. ‘Oh, but you can.’

‘But I’m—’ She stopped suddenly but Ben could easily guess what she’d been about to say.

‘A princess?’ he filled in. ‘And princesses can’t get their hands dirty? Can’t mingle with the masses? Can’t do a single day’s work in their bloody useless lives?’

Natalia recoiled, and underneath the anger Ben thought he saw a flash of vulnerability. Then she drew herself up, all haughty disdain, and he was reminded of just what a spoilt snob she really was. He knew what it meant to work. He knew what it was to try and fail and then try again. His father may have once been a famous footballer, but Ben had made his own money, his own life far from the scandal and notoriety of his upbringing. He’d earned the respect he now garnered; it hadn’t been given to him simply because of who he was. Not like this princess. He’d be damned if he’d let her try to walk all over him.

‘It’s simply not reasonable,’ she said, clearly now going for quiet dignity. A little too late for that.

‘I don’t see why.’

‘Because—’

‘Just what do you have against volunteering at my sports camp?’ Ben asked, leaning forward. He genuinely wanted to know the answer. ‘The children are generally friendly and well-behaved, and they can actually be quite a laugh. You might, heaven forbid, enjoy yourself.’

‘You’ve done these camps before?’

‘A few. One in London, another in Liverpool. Coming here was a way to launch possible camps all over Europe.’

‘Ambitious, aren’t you?’

Ben simply shrugged. ‘So? What do you have against it?’

She stared at him and he saw something flicker in those hazel-green eyes, something that looked remarkably like fear. ‘I don’t know anything about football,’ she finally said.

‘It’s not as if I’d expect you to coach.’

She didn’t speak for a long moment. With the tiniest flicker of sympathy, Ben could just imagine how trapped she felt. Even he had been surprised at how readily King Eduardo had agreed to his plan. The rather dismissive way he’d discussed his daughter had caused Ben a ripple of unease. Natalia may be spoilt, snobbish, vain and even useless, but she was still the man’s child. He had spoken about her, at least a little bit, as if she were nothing but a bother and embarrassment.

Finally she lifted her chin, settled her flintily determined gaze upon him. ‘What would you have me do?’

Ben felt a surge of triumph, as well as a reluctant wave of admiration. The woman had courage. And pride. Too much of it, of course. He shrugged, spreading his hands. ‘Whatever needs doing, really. Office work to begin with—’

‘Office work?’ For a second she looked panicked, which surprised him. Surely office work would be preferable to getting mucky with the children on a football pitch.

‘The camp doesn’t actually launch for another week,’ Ben explained. ‘When the Santina schools have their spring holiday. We’ll start our first three-week camp then. Until it starts, you can help organise things here.’ He gestured to the reception room out front that had been a hive of happy productivity, at least until Princess Natalia had stormed in and stunned them all into silence. ‘You might not be able to type a hundred words a minute,’ he allowed generously, ‘but I assume you can handle a photocopier, do a bit of filing? Read?’ He smiled, expecting her to laugh or smile back even if it was haughtily, but she didn’t. She jerked her startled gaze upwards to his and for a second, no more, she looked terrified. Then her expression closed up completely and she jerked her head in what Ben supposed was a nod.

‘We could make another bet,’ he offered. ‘If you can hack it here for thirty days—’

‘Thirty days—’

‘A month,’ he clarified, and she narrowed her eyes to slits.

‘I can count, Mr—Ben. Thank you very much.’

‘Glad to hear it. Read and count. You’re really quite accomplished.’

She said nothing, but her eyes blazed fury and something even deeper. Darker. Hatred, almost. The emotion in her eyes surprised him; the princess had been giving as good as she got. He felt a stirring of unease at the possibility that he’d actually hurt her.

‘If you manage to stay the required month,’ he said after a moment, keeping his voice mild, ‘required by your father, I should add, then our original bet still stands. I’ll be yours to command for the day.’ Last night that had seemed an almost enticing possibility. Now Ben rather thought that if he was under Princess Natalia’s command she would order him to carve out his own liver with an oyster fork.

She stared at him for a moment, her expression still closed and really rather remote, so he had no idea what she was thinking. It was almost as if she’d physically, or at least emotionally, retreated from him, so even though she still stood in this room, her lithe figure splendidly encased in the pink shift, she was in actuality a million miles away. Ben was surprised to feel a little pang of regret. Despite her aggravating personality, he’d enjoyed their sparring.

‘You don’t think I can do it,’ she said at last.

He could not keep himself from replying, ‘You have given me little cause to believe you can.’

Another flash across her features that he couldn’t quite discern before her expression closed again. ‘You don’t know me.’

‘I’ve read about you—’

‘Do you really believe everything you see in the papers?’ she scoffed, although he still detected a trembling thread of uncertainty underneath her disdain. ‘Your family has been fodder for the tabloids plenty of times. Maybe you’re the pot calling the kettle black now.’

Ben stiffened. He hated the kind of press coverage his family generated, had been trying to rise above it for, it seemed, his entire life. And he particularly hated any personal media exposure, having been dogged by it all too often when he was younger. Even now he could remember the look on his mother’s face when she’d read the papers. She had never been able to resist reading them, seeing and even studying the photos of Bobby Jackson with his latest mistress. Seeing the photo of Ben himself, his tear-streaked face, only four years old. She’d let out a cry of anguish then that still reverberated through Ben thirty years later and made him avoid reporters and their invasive cameras as much as possible. ‘It’s true my family has fed the British press for far too long,’ he told her evenly, ‘but it’s been my experience that even the most outrageous stories hold a grain of truth.’

‘A grain.’

‘Are you saying you’ve been maligned?’

She pressed her lips together. ‘I’m saying I’ll do it,’ she finally said. ‘Clearly I have no choice, and in any case I look forward to winning this ridiculous wager of yours.’ She drew herself up, her eyes glittering, her cheeks high with colour. She really did look magnificent. ‘I look forward,’ she told him, ‘to telling you just what you can do with yourself for an entire day.’

Ben let out a reluctantly admiring laugh. ‘And I look forward to obliging you, I’m sure.’ He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the T-shirt he’d reserved for her. ‘Here’s your uniform.’ He tossed it to her, and she caught it on reflex, staring down at it in incomprehension.

‘It’s a shirt,’ he explained kindly. ‘You wear it.’

She stared at the logo on front, her brow furrowed. Was she really going to object to wearing a shirt with his name on it? From what he’d already experienced of her, probably.

‘Jackson Enterprises Youth Sports,’ she read slowly. She glanced up at him, gave him a wicked smile. ‘You’ve got your name all over this project, haven’t you?’

‘What should I have called it?’ Ben snapped. He leaned forward, suddenly goaded into proving himself, even though he knew it was ridiculous. ‘These camps mean a great deal to me, Princess, and I’d advise you not to stretch my patience too far. You have no idea what I’m capable of.’

She stared at him, the T-shirt clutched to her chest with one fist. ‘And I’ll say the same to you,’ she said quietly. ‘You have no idea what I’m capable of, Ben Jackson.’

Natalia stood outside Ben Jackson’s office building, blinking in the bright sunlight and willing her heart to stop thudding.

Thirty days.

How could she do it? How could she survive? Ben Jackson’s mocking voice echoed in her head, reverberated through her body.

Read and count. You’re really quite accomplished.

He had no idea. Thirty days in an office would be a month of living hell. She’d had Carlotta’s help to cover herself in school, but now …? How long would it take Ben to figure out her weaknesses? Mock them?

And yet despite the fear that coursed through her like liquid silver, Natalia felt something else just as strong: a blazing streak of determination. She wanted, more than anything, to prove Ben Jackson wrong. Annoying him in the process would be a pleasant bonus.

Her mouth curved into a grim smile as she imagined just how aggravating she could be to Ben. After all, he hadn’t qualified his bet with any sort of progress or achievement on her part. All she had to do was show up and stick it out. And make his life miserable in the process … just as he would undoubtedly make hers.

And then, after thirty days, she would have won. Now she smiled with anticipation as she imagined what she would command him to do. Fetch her slippers? Write an abject public apology in the press? Have him follow her around like a lap-dog? Another tantalising possibility slid through her mind, a sly whisper of just what Ben Jackson could do for her … and to her …

She pictured those broad shoulders and trim hips, those eyes darkened with desire … those long-fingered hands roving over her body with languorous intent. Then she pushed the images away. No, she had no interest in that. Ben Jackson was too autocratic and arrogant to be anything but her boss. Besides, she might flirt and date and have it written up in a tabloid as a torrid affair, but in reality she was very choosy with her relationships. That was one lesson she’d learned all too easily.

The smile died from her lips as she considered what lay between her and winning the wager. Thirty days. Thirty days of working hard—Ben would do his best, she knew, to keep her nose to the grindstone. She sighed, her shoulders slumping before she drew herself up again. She wasn’t afraid of working hard. She just didn’t know if it could produce any meaningful result.

Back at the palazzo Natalia was surprised to find her father closeted with a handful of advisers and her mother in a ferment of anxiety. She asked for Natalia to come to her private rooms upon her return, which she did. Despite her party-going antics, Natalia had yet to disobey a direct order.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, and Queen Zoe raised perfectly plucked eyebrows.

‘What’s going on? Only that your foolish sister has run off!’

Natalia slid her sunglasses up onto her head. ‘Sophia?’ she guessed, thinking of her father’s words this morning. Her own twin, Carlotta, had already shamed the Santina family by having a child out of wedlock and was trying to live a quiet life in Italy. Natalia didn’t think on top of that she’d just disappear.

‘Yes, Sophia,’ Zoe said with a worried huff. ‘Apparently she would rather ruin her reputation than marry Prince Rodriguez.’

‘Really,’ Natalia said, and didn’t even bother sounding surprised. Wasn’t she the same? She just hadn’t possessed the courage to take it as far as Sophia apparently had done. ‘Where has she gone?’

‘She has stowed away on the airplane of the Maharajah Ashok Achari.’

‘Ash?’ Natalia said incredulously. Ash was one of her brother Alex’s oldest friends, and as such had visited the palazzo several times. Sophia, Natalia suspected, had always had a bit of a crush on him. But to stow away on a plane …! She felt a thrill of admiration as well as envy. She might have made a few scenes, caused a few minor scandals, but she’d never done something really brave.

‘The media is going wild,’ Zoe said in disgust. Both of her parents hated the press, though they recognised the need to appease the people’s desire for press coverage of the royal family. ‘Between this and how they’ve taken to Alex’s intended—’ Her mother stopped abruptly. ‘Really, I cannot conceive what your sister was thinking.’

She’d taken her future into her own hands—in a way Natalia never had.

Zoe sighed. ‘The media is having a field day with Alex’s choice of bride and now Sophia and Ash are having a hasty, patched-up wedding. Your father was quite right in having you volunteer for the Jackson boy. In these precarious times we must do what needs to be done.’

Ah, Natalia thought, royal duty. Of course.

Zoe turned to Natalia, her expression now one of kindly appeal. ‘I know this volunteering might be a bit … difficult for you,’ she said, and Natalia stiffened. Her mother’s sympathy was far worse than her scold. ‘But the positive publicity really is important now.’ She smiled sadly and spread her hands wide. ‘We’re depending on you, Natalia.’