CHAPTER FIVE
LOTTIE BLINKED, TRYING to ignore the cold dread that slithered down her spine. ‘Yes, but I hardly see what—’
‘Perfect.’ He grinned at her. ‘What better place to put a bunch of girls who want to kick over the traces?’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ She stared at him in horror. ‘A dungeon? For a hens’ night?’
‘Run with it for a moment. We could set it up as a nightclub for the night. Hire a DJ, get the girls to dress up in costumes and—’
Lottie clapped her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear this. La de da—’ she raised her voice in a childish singsong chant ‘—I’m not lis-ten-ing!’
‘Where’s your sense of fun?’ he asked. ‘Come on, think about it. How much fun would it be to have them party down there in the dungeon? We could dress the waitstaff in black leather.’
She dropped her hands and clenched them by her sides instead. ‘What is wrong with you? Next you’ll be suggesting they carry whips and handcuffs and tie all the guests up.’
‘Brilliant!’ His dark eyes twinkled. ‘I knew you’d get into the spirit of it. Your sister and her friends will have a ball. It’ll be a night to remember.’
She gave him a withering look. ‘Drunken debauchery in the dungeon? Yes, that’s really classy.’
‘I can see you in a skin-tight catsuit with over-the-knee black leather boots. And a mask that only shows your incredible eyes and that sexy little mouth of yours.’
Lottie suppressed an involuntary shiver as his smouldering gaze ran over her as if he were already picturing her leather clad. ‘You won’t be seeing me. It’s a girls-only event.’
‘Aw, don’t be a spoilsport.’ He gave her a sexy smile. ‘Can’t I have a private audience with you before the party kicks off?’
The rattle of the dinner trolley arriving was never a more welcome sound to Lottie’s ears even though her appetite was non-existent...or at least her appetite for food. A hunger of an entirely different sort was gnawing at her now. She felt it pulling at her low and deep in her belly. A soft, insistent tugging sensation that made her insides feel hollow. Her skin felt too tight for her body, her senses too aware.
The air contained a silent note of anticipation.
If only he hadn’t kissed her!
Then she wouldn’t be feeling this wretched sense of emptiness and longing. Kissing him had been like tasting the highest quality chocolate for the first time. She would never forget the warmth, the melting smoothness and the seductive, addictive taste of temptation going head-to-head with years of temperance. Temperance didn’t stand a chance. It was like a moth trying to fight off a mammoth.
That wicked glint in Lucca Chatsfield’s eyes had lured dozens of women into his sensual orbit. She would have to fight with every atom of her being to not become yet another one of them. He was so practised at seduction. Even the way he spoke was like a caress—the deep mellifluous voice with its well-bred English accent that now and again betrayed his half-Italian heritage over certain words. The way he slipped endearments in so casually, the way he smiled with that sexy tilt of his mouth, the way his touch was so electric and exciting.
Lottie allowed him to seat her at the table but tried desperately not to show any sign of the impact his presence had on her. She had dined with numerous guests at the palace over the years. She knew how to get through a meal without spilling food or wine or leaving ghastly silences unfilled. But something about sitting opposite Lucca Chatsfield was another story entirely. His knees were almost touching hers underneath the table. She had tucked herself well back in her chair, and had even surreptitiously edged it back a little farther from the table after he had seated her, but even so she was aware of those long, strong, lean legs just inches from her own.
She picked up her wineglass with the tiny measure of wine she only ever allowed herself. ‘What do you do in your spare time, apart from partying?’
‘Not much.’
She searched his features for a moment. His eyes had shifted from hers as he reached for his glass and raised it to his mouth to take a sip. ‘Don’t you ever get bored with doing nothing other than spend your family’s money?’
‘It’s my money too. I can’t help if it I was born into a wealthy family. I just take what I’m given and make the most of it.’
She frowned at him. ‘But don’t you want to do something with your life? Something meaningful?’
He gave her another one of his devil-may-care smiles. ‘Like what?’
‘Study. Train for a career in something. I’m sure you’re not without a brain. You could do something, surely? What about volunteer work? Work for a charity? Set up one like your brother has.’
He gave a negligent shrug. ‘I tried studying but I got kicked out of Cambridge during my second semester. I won’t tell you why. It’d make you blush.’
Lottie blushed anyway as her imagination ran riot. She didn’t like to think what sort of stunt got him expelled from one of England’s finest universities but she had a pretty fair idea it would have had something to do with his prolific sex life. ‘Are you good at anything? I mean, other than seducing women?’
He averted his gaze as he twirled the contents of his glass. ‘I have a few hobbies. Nothing too serious or strenuous. I didn’t inherit the ambition gene in my family.’ He put the glass down and levelled a look at her. ‘What about you? What do you do apart from smashing champagne bottles against boats?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I do lots of things behind the scenes. I don’t like the spotlight so I leave the showy stuff to Madeleine. I organise the palace timetable. Setting up dinners for visiting royals or dignitaries. Garden parties, guided tours of the palace, that sort of thing.’
‘Boring stuff, then.’
Lottie pushed her tongue into the side of her cheek and inhaled a long breath. ‘It might seem hideously boring to someone like you, but I happen to find it immensely satisfying.’
The edge of his mouth tilted upwards, setting off a mocking light in his eyes as if the same muscles were involved. ‘Sounds like a riot. Getting all those unruly ducks in a neat little row. Day after day after day. Year after year after year.’
She shifted in her chair as his satirical scrutiny continued. ‘So I like order. Is that a crime?’
That same side of his mouth lifted in a lip shrug. ‘You can’t control everything in life. You have to leave some wriggle room for spontaneity. No fun waking up each day to the same old tedious routine.’
She gave him an arch look. ‘I am quite sure no two days in your calendar are ever the same. Waking up every morning with a different woman lying beside you would almost certainly guarantee that.’
‘Ah, but that’s where you’ve got me all wrong.’
She tried to ignore the wicked gleam in his eyes but even so the backs of her knees tingled. ‘Oh, really?’
‘I never spend the whole night with someone.’
Lottie couldn’t decide whether to show surprise or disgust. ‘Why not?’
‘Why would I want to? Once the sex part is over it’s time to say goodbye. I need my beauty sleep.’
‘So no post-coital hugs or pillow talks till dawn?’
He gave a deep rumbling laugh. ‘No. Not my scene, I’m afraid.’
‘Interesting choice of words.’
His smile was still in place but it had hardened slightly around the edges. ‘Which words would they be?’
‘You’re afraid.’
The hardness moved up to his eyes like a screen of opaque glass. ‘What would I be afraid of?’
‘Intimacy.’
He pressed his index finger on to the tabletop and made a game-show ‘wrong answer’ sound. ‘Nope. I love sex.’
‘I’m not talking about sex,’ Lottie said. ‘I’m talking about allowing someone to get close to you.’
‘You can’t get much closer than having sex. Or is it so long since you got down and dirty you’ve forgotten the moves? Do you want me to give you a refresher course? I’d be happy to oblige. I’ll even do a house call—or palace call, I should say.’
Lottie gave him a quelling look. ‘Do you really think I would sink so low as to indulge in a fling with you?’
‘Whoa there, sweetheart, I didn’t say anything about a fling.’ He winked at her. ‘Just one night of bed-wrecking sex.’
She arched one of her eyebrows. ‘One full night?’
‘Half.’
‘You drive a hard bargain.’
He glinted at her again. ‘You won’t find anyone harder than me.’
She suppressed a shiver of reaction and hoped he didn’t see it. ‘I was being sarcastic.’
‘Sure you were.’
‘I was!’
He reached across the table and captured her right hand before she had time to snatch it away. He turned her hand upwards and traced a light-as-fairy-footsteps circle around her palm, all the while holding her gaze with the impaling sexiness of his. ‘You think by hiding your assets underneath that horse blanket you’re wearing you’re going to stop me from wanting you?’
Lottie swallowed. His touch was like fire against her skin, his gaze like a searing laser. Her body was a pathetic traitor. It trembled and ached. It pulsed and throbbed. It wanted.
She pulled her hand out of his with a sharp little jerk. ‘I hate to deflate that overblown ego of yours, Mr Chatsfield, but I am not going to be seduced by you.’
His smile was lazy and supremely confident. ‘You want me so bad I can feel it from here.’
She coughed out a disparaging laugh. ‘You’re mistaking disgust for lust. I loathe you. You’re the total opposite of the sort of man I would consent to sleep with.’
‘Describe him to me.’
Lottie beetled her brows. ‘Describe whom to you?’
‘Your fairytale lover. Your dream date—’ that wicked gleam danced in his eyes ‘—the man you’d drop your granny knickers for.’
Granny knickers? Did he really think...? She might lean towards the conservative side in her clothes but her underwear was another story. What she wore underneath her clothes was her private indulgence and there was nothing whatsoever grandmotherly about it. She chewed at the side of her lip, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘Why should I tell you that?’
He lifted a shoulder in one of his careless shrugs. ‘I could help you find a suitable candidate.’
Lottie recoiled in alarm. ‘You mean like set me up? Matchmake? A blind date or something?’
‘I know a lot of people. I have connections. I’m sure I could find someone to fit your exacting standards.’
‘Please don’t put yourself to any bother. I’m perfectly capable of finding my own lover, thank you very much.’
‘You don’t seem to be having much luck so far.’ He picked up his wineglass and deftly twirled it by the stem. ‘Your sister told me you haven’t got laid since—’
Lottie got up from the table so abruptly the crockery and glassware rattled. ‘My sister has no right to tell you anything about me. I know you probably think I’m an uptight prude who is secretly desperate for a bit of passion but you’re wrong. I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is.’ She put her napkin down on the table with unnecessary force. ‘Enjoy your dinner. I hope it keeps you up all night with indigestion.’
‘Aren’t you going to show me the dungeon?’
‘Ask one of the footmen to show you.’
‘Frightened to be alone with me, little princess?’
Lottie turned to glare at him. ‘I’m not frightened of you. I’m disgusted.’
He laughed as he raised his glass in a toast to himself. ‘To pissing everyone off.’ He knocked back the contents and then grinned at the empty glass. ‘My favourite pastime...apart from sex, of course.’
Lottie could not believe he didn’t care a jot for other people’s opinion. Surely there was some small part of him that wanted validation. How could he possibly live his life so uselessly, so pointlessly? Was his life really about nothing but sex and sin? Surely he wanted more than that. Sex was good fun and all that but it didn’t satisfy the greatest yearning of all. To be loved and accepted, to be cherished and valued.
He repulsed her and fascinated her in equal measure. He was everything she most loathed in a man. Reckless. Morally corrupt. Enslaved by his senses. Out of control. Dangerous.
But he made her laugh. He made her feel feminine and desirable. He made her feel.
She straightened her shoulders. ‘I’ll show you the dungeon if only to prove how unsuitable it is for hosting a party.’
His dark eyes gleamed. ‘Will you hold my hand if I get scared of the dark?’
Lottie wondered if there was anything that truly scared him. He had such a fearless devil-may-care attitude to life, which—if she were to be perfectly honest with herself—she privately envied. She had let herself go just the once and it had backfired on her. Lucca let himself go all the time and didn’t seem to care what the fallout was. He seemed to revel in causing as much of a stir as possible. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We have electricity down there. It was installed ten years ago.’
He smiled that sexy trademark slant of his. ‘If it fails, at least we have backup.’ He glided an indolent finger across her cheek as if to prove it.
Lottie brushed his hand away but her skin was still tingling when they got down to the dungeon via a service lift that only palace staff had access to.
The door was locked but she knew where the key was kept. She took it out of its hiding place and handed it to Lucca. ‘You can do the honours. The door’s a little heavy for me.’
He gave her an assessing look. ‘You’re not thinking naughty thoughts, are you, tesore mio?’
Lottie hated that he could make her blush so easily. ‘What naughty thoughts would I be thinking?’ Apart from getting naked with you and having the orgasm of my life?
He was still watching her with a steady and knowing gaze. ‘I don’t mind being tied up or blindfolded, even whipped on occasion, but I draw the line at being locked in a dungeon all by myself. What would be the fun in that?’
‘You have an overactive imagination.’
‘So do you.’
Lottie rubbed her arms with her crossed-over hands. Aside from the danger of being alone with Lucca Chatsfield, she was seriously getting spooked hanging about in this dark corridor. It had been years since she’d been down here. Ten years to be exact. Madeleine had locked her in the dungeon as a joke when she was thirteen years old. She had been scared witless and had been claustrophobic ever since. ‘Are you going to unlock the door or stand out here talking about it all night?’
He gave a low chuckle that echoed like a villain’s muahhahaha laugh in the cold dark space. She pinched her lips together to stop from smiling at his puerile sense of humour and stood well back as he unlocked the dungeon door. The hinge creaked like rattling chains and another chill tiptoed over her scalp like an army of ants with frostbitten feet.
‘That hinge could do with a squirt of oil,’ Lucca said. ‘You ought to put one of your fancy footmen on to it.’ He held the door open for her, sweeping his hand in front of himself to indicate for her to precede him. ‘After you.’
‘Um, you go first.’
His eyes danced. ‘You think I’m going to fall for that old trick? Nah, you’ve got the wrong dude, baby girl. You go first. That way I can keep my eye on you.’
Lottie stiffened her spine and walked past him, the cold damp air wrapping around her ankles like the ghastly leg irons attached to the stone walls. In that terrifying half-hour when Madeleine had locked her in all those years ago Lottie had sworn she could hear ghostly wails from behind those ancient stones. She rubbed at her arms again and turned and faced him. ‘As you can see, it’s totally unsuitable for a hens’ party.’
‘I disagree and so does your sister.’
She frowned at him. ‘You’ve already talked to her about this?’
‘But of course. She thought it was a fabulous idea.’
Of course she would, Lottie thought with an ember of resentment burning in the pit of her stomach. Her sister thought she was a scaredy-cat and delighted in pushing her out of her comfort zone. Wasn’t that the reasoning behind Lucca being brought in to add a bit of excitement to her staid and boring life? ‘Yes, well, obviously my sister and I don’t have the same taste in entertainment.’
‘Or men.’
‘I haven’t told you my taste in men.’
‘No, but I can guess.’
Lottie folded her arms. ‘I’ll save you the mental effort. Intelligent, hard-working and trustworthy.’
He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. ‘What about a sense of humour? Isn’t that what women find most attractive in a man?’
‘I prefer loyalty over laughter.’
‘When was the last time you laughed?’
‘I don’t keep a detailed record.’
His gaze went to her mouth. ‘Health experts say you should laugh every day.’ His eyes meshed with hers. ‘It’s like sex. It releases feel-good hormones.’
Lottie wasn’t sure how he had done it without her noticing but he was suddenly standing close enough for her to feel his body warmth radiating against her. Her heart skipped a beat as he traced the curve of her jaw with a fingertip. ‘Wh-what are you doing?’
‘I’m taking your mind off the fact that you hate being down here.’
‘What makes you think I don’t like being down here?’ She’d tried for insouciance but was pretty sure she missed the mark.
He traced her lower lip with the same idle fingertip. ‘You’re as tense as a trip wire.’
‘Maybe I don’t like being down here with you.’
His eyes teased hers. ‘If you didn’t like being down here with me you would’ve stepped back ten seconds ago.’
Lottie stepped back so quickly she stumbled on the uneven floor and would have fallen except for the steadying action of one of his hands on her wrist. Her stomach hollowed as his fingers found the betraying leap of her pulse. ‘Let g-go of me this instant.’ To her chagrin her voice came out husky instead of brusque.
His fingers left a fiery trail over her skin as they slowly relinquished their hold. ‘Don’t forget our date tomorrow.’
She frowned as she rubbed at her wrist. ‘Date? I’m not going on a—’
‘We have to get your sister’s wedding-night gear. I know just the place in Monte Carlo. A friend of mine owns an exclusive lingerie boutique.’
Lottie wondered what sort of friend. An ex-lover perhaps? He had ‘friends’ all over the globe. He was utterly shameless in how he conducted his life. He used people when it suited him and dropped them when it didn’t. ‘Why do you want to go Monte Carlo?’ she said. ‘We have perfectly fine shops here or we could shop online.’
‘I have some business to see to.’
‘What sort of business?’
His dark eyes twinkled. ‘Secret men’s business.’
Lottie glowered at him. ‘A hook-up?’
‘You could call it that.’
She clenched her hands into fists, struggling to keep her anger contained. Didn’t he realise his outrageous behaviour would impact on her? He was making a game out of the situation but it was her reputation and her pride that was at stake. ‘You’re supposed to be helping me with the wedding. What will your father and his CEO say if they find out you’re out partying on the continent instead?’
He leaned against the wall in that indolent manner he had perfected. ‘They won’t say a thing because you’re coming with me.’
She narrowed her eyes to hairpin-thin slits. ‘What? While you hook up with some balloon-breasted bimbo? I don’t think so.’
‘It’s already arranged. Your sister’s lady-in-waiting emailed me the details earlier. We’ll fly over tomorrow morning by helicopter and spend the night at the Chatsfield Monte Carlo. It’ll be a blast.’
Helicopter? Ack! The last time she had flown in one she had been wretchedly airsick and the press waiting near the helipad had got the most candid shot of her of all time.
But flying with Lucca Chatsfield was one thing, sharing accommodation was another. ‘I’m not staying with you!’
‘Separate rooms, of course.’ He smiled an I’m-rotten-to-the-core-and-you-love-me-for-it-anyway smile. ‘I’m to be your stand-in bodyguard. Reckon I can keep you out of danger?’
Why, oh, why was Madeleine encouraging this farce?
He was the danger.
Even if he didn’t come anywhere near her, Lottie could just imagine the torture of listening to him having animal sex with some empty-headed wannabe starlet next door.
Argh!