The Bossy Prince (Rugged and Royal #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,47

me. “Because I really love a challenge.”

My reply transforms to a bleat of surprise as someone knocks on the door so hard it rattles on its hinges. “Zan? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick!”

Heart racing, I call out, “Yes, sorry, Beatrice. I’m fine.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nick adds. “I forgot to call. Completely my fault.”

Beatrice sighs in audible relief. “No, it’s fine. I’m just so glad you’re both okay. We had to send one woman to the hospital in town, but she’s doing much better now. Stefano is furious with whoever did this, though. He’s pacing in our room, cussing in Italian.”

“I can imagine,” Nick says, his palm skimming lower on my stomach. “People could have died.”

“That’s right.” I reach down, covering Nick’s hand with mine, stopping him before his fingers slide between my legs. I turn over my shoulder, widening my eyes pointedly at him, then the door, then back at him. “Beatrice is right there,” I hiss.

“But she can’t see us,” he whispers.

“But we’re having a conversation with her, and this is weird,” I hiss back. “Be decent.”

Nick rolls his eyes before calling out in a louder voice, “Well, sorry again, love. But glad to hear we’re all right as rain this morning.”

“Well, not entirely,” Beatrice says, hesitation in her voice. “I really don’t think Stefano wants me in the room right now. He’s so upset. And our waterfall excursion has been postponed until tomorrow, and I’m starving after being up most of the night. And well, I hate to eat alone, so I was kind of wondering…”

“Buffet in thirty minutes?” I call, making Nick scowl so hard it’s comical. Fighting a grin, I add, “I’ll meet you by the entrance.”

“Perfect!” Beatrice trills. “Oh, thank you. I appreciate it so much. And we can chat about wedding ideas if you’re up for it. I want to be sure I don’t unintentionally copy anything Lizzy’s planning for her wedding.”

Now it’s my turn to pull a face, but I keep my tone upbeat as I say, “Sure thing. I’ll grab a quick shower and meet you in a few.”

“Okay, bye!” Bea says.

“Bye,” Nick calls, before adding in a softer voice, “Stop. Where are you going? Get back here.”

“I have to get ready to meet Bea.” I scoot to the edge of the bed as I pull the two sides of my robe together, rattled by how close that could have been to trouble. What if it had been a bad guy at our door instead of my cousin?

“We’ll both go meet her,” Nick says, “but I think we should finish this conversation first, don’t you?”

I hesitate, feet dangling over the edge of the mattress. “It wasn’t really a conversation, was it?”

“There was conversation involved. And decision-making.” Nick shifts until he’s seated behind me, his legs extended on either side of mine and his arms wrapped around my waist. He draws me back against him, cupping my breast through my robe, stealing my breath as he whispers, “You were pretty into this a few minutes ago. What’s changed?”

“I don’t know.” My exhalation is ragged and…hungry-sounding. Starved, in fact. “Just yesterday, I was thinking how irresponsible it was for you to be thinking about vacation time before we’d even completed the mission.”

He stiffens, and his hand drops from my breast. “I was still focused on the job, Zan.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t focused this morning. If Beatrice had been a guy with a gun, we’d be dead by now.”

“I think we would have had at least—”

“We should be concentrating on shutting down Stefano, keeping Beatrice and each other safe, and nothing else. If we screw this up because we’re distracted by screwing, we’ll never forgive ourselves, and you know it. I certainly won’t, that’s for sure. I already feel awful.”

He relaxes against me with a sigh. “All right. You’re right. But the moment we’re on that plane home, we finish this discussion.”

I shiver, at war with myself. This would be a good time to permanently shut temptation down before I do something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

But in the end, the hungry part of me wins out. “All right.”

“Should we shake on it?” he teases in a tone that bothers me for some reason.

I glare at him over my shoulder. “No, we shouldn’t.”

His expression softens. “Why are you mad at me now?”

“I…don’t know,” I confess. “I don’t like feeling this way.”

“What way is that?” he asks before answering his own question. “Out of control? Wanting me, but wishing you didn’t?