Scarcely able to believe her audacity, Corso considered his options. If he sent her away there would be a scene and, besides, the mulish expression pinned to her face made him doubt she would obey him—he had never seen her look that way before. What was thematterwith her? Having her removed by Security remained an option, of course, but the forced removal of a troublesome guest was hardly an auspicious end to his party—and would doubtless cause gossip and speculation. And since this was doubtless the last time he would ever see her, why not tolerate her request and hear her out?
Knitting his brows together, he glanced up at the illuminated dial of the mighty clock as the hour ticked irrevocably towards midnight. Would five minutes be long enough to allow her to get whatever it was off her chest before he dismissed her?
He dipped his head so his words couldn’t be overheard, their silky tone failing to disguise his irritation. ‘Very well. I will grant you a few minutes. What is it?’
Rosie hesitated, glancing this way and that, terrified someone would be able to hear what she was about to say. ‘Not here,’ she whispered. ‘Can’t we just go over there, where it’s quiet?’
‘No.’
‘Yes, we can, Corso,’ she persisted stubbornly. ‘You’re the most senior royal here tonight. You can do anything you please.’
‘Good to know that you’re able to remember protocol when it suits you,’ he answered testily.
But to her relief, he waved away the aides who were hovering anxiously nearby and strode over to the velvet-curtained recess she’d indicated, where indigo shadows replaced the bright glitter of the ballroom, and Rosie followed him—steeling herself against the fierce look on his face.
‘Well? What is it?’ he demanded. ‘I’m waiting.’
But now that the moment of revelation was here, Rosie couldn’t work out how she was going to say it, because this was something way outside her experience. Way outside most people’s, she guessed uncomfortably. How did you tell any man—let alone a hugely important royal—that you thought someone was attempting to trick them in the most underhand way possible?
‘It’s Tiffany,’ she said, at last.
He stilled. ‘Tiffany?’
Rosie nodded. ‘That’s right.’
‘What about her?’
‘I don’t think... I don’t think she has your best interests at heart.’
‘No?’ He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. ‘But you do, I suppose?’
Again, she hesitated as the hard light from his eyes lanced through her. ‘Yes, I do. Of course I do.’
‘So what is it about her which makes you think I should be on my guard?’ he questioned sarcastically. ‘Surely you’re not jealous that I had the first dance with her and didn’t find time to dance with you? Is that why your eyes were following me round the ballroom so reproachfully all evening?’
Rosie froze. Did he really think this was aboutjealousy—or imagine he was so gorgeous that all a woman could think about was craving his company? She was so outraged by his assumption that she nearly turned on her heel and fled, because it would serve him right if he created a love child with Tiffany Sackler on the very night of his twenty-fifth birthday. And then a feeling of nausea rose up inside her as she acknowledged her own dated terminology.Love child?Nobody said that sort of thing any more. What if shehadgot it all wrong? She had zero experience of sex, or relationships. What if she’d misread the situation and was sticking her nose in where it wasn’t needed? For all she knew, he and Tiffany might already have had long and avid discussions about planned parenthood. She had read the textbooks at school, along with everyone else. Who was to say they hadn’t spent the last three days taking her temperature and deciding which would be the best sexual position to adopt?
Her fingers strayed to her lips because that particular thought made her feel queasy and she wasn’t quite sure why. But the Prince’s eyes were narrowed with exasperation and she thought he was about to stride away and she’d never get another chance. Maybe it was that which made it all come tumbling out, her words almost tripping over themselves. ‘I don’t want to be the one to have to tell you this, Corso, but Tiffany and I have suites next door to each other. Our terraces are connected and I overheard her talking on the phone earlier.’
‘You mean you were eavesdropping?’
‘Yes. No.’ She shook her head, knowing that she probably deserved the withering disdain she could hear in his voice and knowing she needed to justify it. ‘I never intended to stay and listen but then I heard... I heard her talking to someone—’
‘That is usually what happens when you’re on the phone to someone,’ he interrupted sarcastically.
‘And she was saying...’ She shrugged her shoulders with helpless embarrassment. ‘She was saying that she’d made you wait and you were hot for her. And...’
A sudden chill seemed to have entered the atmosphere. ‘And?’
Rosie could see that his face had changed. The irritation had vanished and been replaced by a look of cold, quiet danger.
For a moment she questioned the wisdom of what she was about to do, but somehow she knew there wasn’t any other choice. Because not only was Rosie spurred on by the certainty that the da Vignola lineage was too long and revered a line to be continued in such a potentially destabilising way, there was another factor, too. No way should Corso Andrea da Vignola become a parent. Certainly not at this stage in his life—perhaps not ever. Because how could a man ever raise a child when he was so proud and unfeeling and downright arrogant?
‘She said it was perfect timing.’
‘Perfect timing?’ he repeated slowly.
It occurred to Rosie that his innate superiority might prevent him from understanding the harsh truth of what she was telling him. He probably imagined that any woman would think it perfect timing to have the royal Prince in their bed and that she, for all her innocence, had misunderstood what Tiffany had been alluding to. So enlighten him—even if it’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever had to do.