Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 Carol Marinelli (ebook reader computer txt) 📖

her ability to dazzle with a flick of her more-blond-than-strawberry locks and not the least bit afraid to use such tactics. She was mesmerizing with her peaches and cream skin. Her nose was cutely uptilted to add playfulness to her otherwise aristocratic features, and there was something intangible, a certain sparkle, that surrounded her.

But the very fact she entranced him kept him on his guard. He was long practiced at appreciating the fact a woman was attractive without succumbing to whatever lust she might provoke in him. He was not and never would be his father.

Even if he had to convince certain people he was enough like him to be undeserving of his crown.

“But—” She waved an exasperated hand. “I have other clients. I can’t just drop them all for you.”

“Isn’t that what I just paid you to do? If you needed more, you should have said.”

“You really don’t know what my work is, do you?” She frowned with consternation before adding in a disgruntled voice, “I’ll have to shift things around. I wish you’d made it clear when you called that you expected me to travel. I would have brought a quick-run bag.” She moved to the leather satchel she’d left on a stool at the bar.

“Are you a PR rep or a secret agent?” Luca asked dryly.

“Feels like one and the same most of the time. At least my passport is always in here.”

He eyed her slightly-above-average height and perfectly proportioned curves. Amy wore nothing so pedestrian as a skirt suit. No, her rainbow-striped dress was styled like an ankle-length shirt in lightweight silk. She’d rolled back her sleeves to reveal her bangled wrists and left a few buttons open at her throat and below her knees. It was a bohemian yet stylish look that was finished with a black corset-looking device that made him want to take his time unbuckling those five silver tongue and eye closures in the middle of her back. Her black shoes had silver stiletto heels that glinted wickedly, and the shift of filmy silk against her heart-shaped ass was positively erotic.

Not her, Luca reminded himself as a bolt of want streaked from the pit of his gut to the root of his sex. He was woke enough to know that objectifying women was wrong, that women who worked for him were always off-limits, and that grabbing anyone’s backside without express permission was unacceptable—even if she’d gawked at his own like she’d wanted to help herself to a handful.

When he’d caught Amy checking him out a few minutes ago, he’d considered scrapping this whole idea in favor of suggesting he refile his flight plan so they could tour the king-size bed in the other room.

Luca didn’t place nascent physical attraction over real world obligations, though. Whether it looked like it or not, allowing his sister to take his place was the greatest service he could do for his country. He wouldn’t be swayed from it.

If that left room in his future to make a few less than wise decisions with a woman who attracted him, that was icing. For now, he had to keep his mind out of the gutter.

Or rather, only go there in a very shallow and deliberate manner.

Look at the bar Papa set, his twin had sniffed a few weeks ago when he’d been relaying his frustration with the Privy Council’s refusal to allow him to abdicate. You have a long way to sink before they would even think of ousting you in favor of me.

Luca didn’t want to put the country into constitutional crisis or start firing dedicated public servants. He only wanted to make things right, but there were too many people invested in the status quo. He’d tried cultivating a certain incompetence as he’d adopted the duties of king, pushing more and more responsibilities onto Sofia to show she was the more deserving ruler, but the council dismissed his missteps as “adapting to the stress of his new role.” They hovered more closely than ever and were driving him mad.

Sofia’s casual remark had been effortlessly on the nose, providing Luca with the solution he’d been searching for. He needed to sink to that unforgivable depth in one shot, touch bottom very briefly, then shoot back to the surface before too much damage was done.

Amy Miller was uniquely positioned to help him make that happen, having bailed countless celebrities out of scandals of their own making.

She was helping herself to items from the hospitality basket, dropping an apple and a protein snack into her bag before adding a water bottle and a bar of chocolate.

“I’ll deduct this from your bill,” she said absently as she examined a lip balm before uncapping it and sweeping it across her naked mouth. She rolled her lips and dropped the tube into her bag. “I’ll buy a change of clothes from the boutique in the lobby on our way out.”

“We don’t have time for a shopping spree. I’ll make arrangements for things to be waiting for you when we arrive.”

“I’m hideously efficient,” she insisted. “Shall I meet you at the front doors in fifteen minutes?” She plucked the black motorcycle jacket off the back of the stool and shrugged it over her dress.

Something in that combination of tough leather over delicate silk, studded black over bright colors, fine blond hair flicked free of the heavy collar and the haughty expression on her face made him want to catch her jacket’s lapels in his fists and drag her close for the hottest, deepest kiss of their lives. His heart rate picked up and his chest heated.

Their eyes met, and they were close enough that he saw her pupils explode in reaction to whatever she was reading in his face.

Look at the bar Papa set.

“Car park. Ten minutes.” He pushed a gruff coolness into his tone that made it clear he was not invested in her on any level. “Or the whole thing is off.”

She flinched slightly, then gave him what he suspected was