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like a co-conspirator before spoiling the effect with, ‘I’m sure you’ll keep me posted about your stud-muffin prince.’

      ‘He’s not my prince!’

      However, as the words left Natasha’s mouth, she wondered what the stab of disappointment was about.

      

      Natasha had just stepped out of the shower and slipped into a fluffy purple bathrobe when her mobile rang. She considered ignoring it, as she had a date with a thriller DVD and a super-size bowl of her favourite choc-fudge ice-cream.

      However, it could be her dad calling from Perth.

      Or it could be the prince.

      She wavered for a few seconds, hoping for the former, knowing a quick glance at call display would put her out of her misery. The phone continued to shrill its funky tune, and she finally gave up, crossing the room and grabbing it out of her bag.

      She didn’t know the number.

      Punching the answer button, she put on her best phone voice, the one Ella said could scare an army into battle.

      ‘Natasha Telford speaking.’

      ‘Natasha, Dante here. I need your help. Urgently.’

      She swallowed, surprised by the quick thrill of pleasure at the sound of his deep voice, annoyed that the movie and ice-cream would have to wait.

      ‘What’s up?’

      ‘I’m being followed. Can you meet me out the front of the hotel in two minutes?’

      Okay, so this was slightly crazy. What did he expect her to do—pull some bad-cop routine on his stalker, who was probably some lovesick girl anyway?

      Shaking her head, she said, ‘I’ll be there.’

      ‘Thanks, hurry,’ he said, hanging up and leaving her staring at the phone.

      ‘Drama prince!’ she muttered, pulling on underwear, sweatpants and a hoodie in record time, slipping her feet into flip-flops and keys into her pocket.

      She pulled her hair into a dripping ponytail as she rode the lift down to Ground, making it out the front of the hotel with thirty seconds to spare, and in time to see Dante strolling around the corner as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

      ‘So where’s the fire?’ she said, before he strode straight up to her, enfolded her into his arms and planted his lips on hers.

      Nuts.

      Insane.

      Crazy.

      However, as his warm, firm lips plied her with a skill she’d expect from a guy like him, her initial reaction that he’d lost his mind was quickly replaced by heat.

      Burning, scorching, intense heat which raced through her body and promised to consume her from the inside out, the kind of heat that could make a girl lose her mind and do something completely out of character, like kiss him back.

      Before she could react, he broke the kiss and murmured, ‘Sorry, go with me for now.’

      He didn’t leave her much choice as he resumed kissing her, his arms sliding around her waist and feeling way too good, his chest pressed up against hers as one of his hands strummed her back like a virtuoso.

      Natasha prided herself on her logic. She was a thinker, weighing up options carefully, always doing the right thing.

      Then what on earth was she doing responding to the prince’s passion, the heat crackling between them turning to bone-melting sizzle, enjoying this kiss more than she could’ve dreamed possible?

      Someone moaned—to her endless embarrassment, she had a sneaking suspicion it was her—and she clung to him, belatedly realising that his rock-hard chest felt as good beneath her splayed palms as it looked.

      Her senses reeled as he deepened the kiss to the point where she could’ve forgotten who she was, where she was and all the reasons she shouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t for one small intrusion.

      ‘Natasha?’

      Her head snapped back and her shocked gaze swung between Dante, the prince who’d just lost his mind and kissed her senseless, and Clay, the man she’d once loved and now despised.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘WHAT are you doing here?’

      Natasha glared at Clay, hating the perfection of his smooth blond hair gelled within an inch of its life, the supercilious sneer, the cocky squared shoulders ready for battle.

      She loathed him.

      She despised him.

      Yet she’d once loved him with all her heart.

      Thank goodness she’d had a wake-up call before she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Being engaged to the pompous ass had ruined her family as it was. She shuddered to think what would’ve happened if she’d gone all the way.

      But then, she already knew.

      The scumbag had told her in great detail when she’d broken off their engagement after learning the truth about why a suave entrepreneur was really interested in marrying a hotel jill of all trades.

      ‘Guess there’s no need to ask you,’ Clay said, sending her a look that could kill. ‘It’s pretty obvious you’ve taken up sport since we parted. Tonsil hockey.’

      ‘Leave the lady alone,’ Dante said, his voice low with menace, a protective arm still wrapped around her waist, and Natasha instinctively snuggled deeper before realising what she was doing. By then, she didn’t want to move. Having his arm holding her, supporting her, felt way too good in the face of Clay’s derision.

      Clay’s withering gaze turned on Dante. ‘And I must’ve been mistaken about you. I thought you were the Prince of Calida back there, but guess I was wrong.’

      ‘You got that right,’ Dante said, his hand tightening on her waist.

      Natasha stiffened, knowing how much Dante’s privacy meant, and what a louse like Clay would do with the information if he found out. Guys like Clay did everything for a reason, which usually involved getting ahead in the world and looking out for number one.

      ‘Instead, you’re Natasha’s new boyfriend. How sweet.’

      There was nothing remotely sweet about the false saccharine dripping from Clay’s every word or the nasty leer he turned on her. ‘I should’ve known. There’s no way a prince would be remotely interested in someone like you.’

      Natasha flinched despite the shield she’d built around her ego after ending the relationship with Clay.

      Damn him, for still having the power to hurt her.

      Damn him, for being here and potentially ruining her plan to use the prince to salvage something from the mess he’d lumbered her family with.

      ‘Apologise to the lady. Now.’

      Dante’s arm slipped from her waist as he took a step forward and, crazily, she missed its solid warmth.

      Clay’s sneer turned sinister, the same expression she’d seen eighteen months ago when she’d told him what he could do with his two-carat baguette diamond.

      ‘And who are you to give me orders?’ Clay matched Dante’s step forward till the two were almost toe to toe.

      Natasha laid a steadying hand on Dante’s arm, shocked that she noticed how hot his bare skin felt under her palm and how much she liked it.

      ‘He’s someone you’ll never be,’ she said, wishing she’d had the guts to inject this much scorn into her voice the last time they’d spoken, when he’d threatened her family yet again. ‘Now get lost.’

      Clay’s eyes narrowed to slits, reminding her of a snake she’d once seen at

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