Exclusive!: Hollywood Life or Royal Wife? / Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby! / Sex, Lies and a Security Tape

‘With such a guest, dinner can only be successful,’ he replied gallantly.

‘Your Royal Highness is too kind,’ she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes and bowing her head comically before taking a sip of wine.

‘Come, come, Victoria.’ He laughed. ‘No formal titles, I beg you. I am Rodolfo to you, and that is all. Let’s step out and drink this on the balcony, shall we? The evening is quite fresh. Do you think you’ll be warm enough?’ He came around the counter and, slipping an arm around her, escorted her out onto the wide balcony which overlooked the floodlit gardens of the castello.

‘The garden is divine,’ she murmured, staring down at the manicured parterres, the flowerbeds and trimmed hedges, and listening to the soft sound of water pouring from a fountain. She breathed in the familiar scent that seemed to permeate the whole island, giving it an aura all of its own.

‘No, bella, the garden is pleasant—you are exquisite,’ he said, stopping himself from kissing her, knowing that if he allowed things to get out of hand right now there would be no pasta, no dinner, merely an immediate move into the bedroom.

If she was willing.

The question was an intriguing one: few women had ever refused him. He did not consider himself arrogant, merely self-confident, sure of his own charm and ability to seduce. He’d never been unfair or unjust, and had always acted the gentleman. Simply, he hadn’t allowed his heart to get involved. Victoria was beguiling and lovely, and she reminded him of Giada—but was he really going to stop playing by his rules?

Together they stood leaning against the balustrade of the wide balcony. The moon shone, full and bright, like a huge floodlight, illuminating the sky, the sea and the castle. The water below shimmered, as did the sparkling lights of the large yachts at anchor in the bay. It was magical, enchanting, unreal. And as Victoria sipped her wine she wondered if all this was nothing but a dream.

After a little while they went inside. Rodolfo directed her to a large antique sideboard, where the plates and cutlery were kept, while he busied himself tossing chopped onions and garlic in olive oil, selecting herbs and popping them into a large frying pan while next to it a huge pot of water simmered, awaiting the pasta. Then he switched on some music: a Baroque instrumental. It was soft and soothing, the quality of the sound perfect.

As she laid the table Victoria let out a sigh. How wonderful it must be to live with a man like this, in such an atmosphere, she reflected, to share such joyful and intimate moments. She barely remembered that he was a prince, simply looked at him as a man on whose company she was fast learning to depend.

And what a man.

Out of the corner of her eye she observed him, watched him, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal the taut tanned muscles of his forearms, his hair flicked back as he concentrated on his task. He wore an old pair of tight jeans and espadrilles. She swallowed. What, she wondered, would follow the pasta?

Nothing that she didn’t want, she realised ruefully.

For it had become abundantly clear that, however much Rodolfo might want her, he was too much of gentleman to do anything that she might regret or deplore. The thought left her limp with longing. To know that he respected her, that he wanted her yet would be willing to abstain from demonstrating his desire in any way that she might find offensive made him all the more attractive, and left her feeling more vulnerable and tender than she ever had before.

Unconsciously she moved towards the kitchen, came and stood next to him and watched as he stirred the pasta, threw herbs deftly into the pan, added a touch of salt and pepper, then turned and smiled into her eyes.

‘It smells delicious,’ she murmured, taking a deep breath.

‘Wait until you taste it,’ he replied, concentrating again on his undertaking. ‘Here.’ He lifted the wooden spoon and dropped some of the sauce on her hand. ‘Try it.’

‘Mmm. It’s scrumptious.’

‘Good. Now, this is the important moment,’ he said as the water boiled and he tipped the pasta in. ‘The pasta must only stay in for three minutes, so that it is al dente.’

‘Can I do anything?’ she asked, enjoying the sight of him intensely focused on his cooking.

‘Yes. Why not pour us some more wine?’ He flashed her a devilish grin, his teeth gleaming white against his tan. ‘I assure you this will be the best pasta you have ever tasted, cara mia. I am an expert.’

‘And modest to boot,’ she giggled, as she busied herself pouring from the bottle of red wine that sat on the counter.

‘I see little point in being modest when one knows one is the best,’ he said, dropping fettuccine into the pot with a flourish.

‘I promise to give you an honest opinion,’ she said, eyes flashing with humour as she handed him his glass.

‘Thanks. Now, join me here and watch the maestro at work.’

Rolling her eyes in amusement, Victoria poured the other glass then stood next to Rodolfo. The sauce smelled delicious. She could detect several fragrances, including basil. But the rest she could not identify. ‘What is that?’ she asked, sniffing.

‘None of your business,’ he responded, tweaking a strand of her hair. ‘It’s a secret recipe.’

Victoria made a moue with her mouth as he circled his arm around her and stirred the pan with a wooden spoon with his free hand. Then he dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. She looked up and their eyes met.

‘Not now,’ he said, shaking his head wryly. ‘I’m afraid this is the critical moment.’ Taking his arm away, he grabbed the pot, tipped the pasta out into a large sieve, then replaced it on the stove and stirred in some olive oil.

Victoria looked on, amazed at how professionally he handled things. Next he was tossing the pasta back in the pot and adding the savoury sauce.

‘There,’ he said, mixing with two large spoons, ‘ready to serve, signorina.’

Removing the large pot from the stove, he took it over to the table and placed it on a mat, serving large portions onto ceramic plates.

‘Here you go,’ he said, placing it before her. ‘Now, eat while it’s hot, or it’ll be no good.’ Then he served himself and, sitting down opposite, raised his glass.

‘Salute.’

‘Salute,’ she responded, raising hers.

‘Buon apetito.’

Carefully Victoria twiddled some pasta onto her fork, thankful that she’d learned to eat it properly. As she dropped it into her mouth she let out a tiny groan of appreciation. ‘It’s simply delicious,’ she murmured once she could speak. ‘I was hoping I could find something wrong with it, but frankly I would be lying. It’s perfect.’

‘Grazie.’ He smiled, inclined his head, and began eating.

For a few moments they ate in silence, enjoying the scrumptious dish. Victoria thought suddenly that she could go on doing this for ever and never be bored. He was so charming, so amusing, so easy to be around. Then she pulled herself up with a jolt. This was a ridiculous way of thinking. Here she was, spending a few days in this man’s company. She mustn’t allow her imagination to run away with her.

Rodolfo watched her across the table, thinking that he had rarely spent such a pleasant, easy-going evening. Victoria was unpretentious, lovely and natural. It was a big change from the sophisticated models he usually shared his time with.

By the time they’d finished dessert both were extremely relaxed with one another.

Coffee was taken out on the balcony, followed by a small glass of limoncello, an after-dinner drink. It was past ten o’ clock when suddenly Victoria’s mobile phone rang.

Rodolfo passed her handset to her.

‘That’s weird. Anne already called me. Hello?’

‘Hi, babe.’

‘Who is this?’ she asked blankly.

‘Why, baby-pie, it’s Bill—from Hollywood. I’m Janie’s boyfriend. Remember her? She told you about Dr Browne when you were feeling stressed. I heard you were hanging out there on an island, with some prince or other. Guess you won’t be using Dr Browne’s services any more, but I could get you some special candy and deliver it personally to you, if you like.’

A chill gripped Victoria and she stared out to sea, swallowing. ‘I don’t want anything. And how did you get my number?’

‘Wouldn’t you just like to know? Thought you might like to make me a little gift. After all, the newspapers worldwide are lining up looking for folks to give ’em a good story about you. You’re a hot item right now, babe. Thought you might like to do a deal, honey.’

Victoria froze. She glanced at Rodolfo moving around the kitchen area, discreetly staying away while she took the call. This couldn’t be happening. What would he say if he found out who was ringing her?

‘Well?’

‘Look, I can’t talk right now,’ she muttered nervously, playing for time. She had to think, had to decide what to do—maybe talk to Anne and see if she had a solution to the dilemma.

Blackmail.

She never would have believed it was happening.

‘Okay. You’ve twenty-four hours to make up your mind, honey-bunch. After that all bets are off.’ He hung up.

Victoria sat motionless, her hand trembling. What was she to do?

Once he realised she’d hung up, Rodolfo came back outside. ‘Nothing important, I hope?’ he said, and raised a questioning brow.

‘Uh, no. Nothing, really. Just—’ She cut off, unable to lie, yet unable to tell him the truth. How could she explain that she was being blackmailed by a drug dealer who, by some mysterious means, had found out her whereabouts? She wanted to scream with frustration—would have done anything to be able to pour out her troubles to Rodolfo, to tell him the truth and be done with it.

But that was impossible.

He must never know how far she’d got into trouble. He’d been so kind and tolerant. But what if he knew this? He would be disgusted by her. The thought made her shiver.

‘Are you cold?’ he enquired, coming to sit next to her and slipping his arm about her.

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ she lied, swallowing.

‘Victoria, I think you know that I want you very much,’ Rodolfo said, letting his fingers thread through her golden mane of hair.

‘I—’

‘There’s no need to say anything. Just let me lead the way.’

She hesitated. Then he rose. Unable to resist, she did too. She wanted this man more than anything, even though she knew that there was no future with him. But somehow it didn’t matter. What she needed now was to be in his arms, to feel him hold her, forget the nightmare taking place in her public life and give way to her inner desires.

Slowly they moved through the living room and into the bedroom of the extensive apartment. Rodolfo closed the door, then turned her towards him.

‘Cara mia, you are so lovely,’ he whispered, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on her temple, her neck, and down to her breast. Her heart was beating so fast she didn’t think she could breathe. Then his hands began slipping off her top. In one quick movement he loosened her bra. It fell to the floor and she stood before him, her golden hair falling over her naked breasts.

‘Bellissima,’ he murmured, leading her to the bed and laying her down among the pillows.

Soon they were lying naked next to one another. Victoria’s pulse raced as she thought of what she was about to do. This was the first time she’d been to bed with a man. Would Rodolfo be disappointed at her lack of experience? But it was too late to turn back—too late to have regrets. All at once she knew that this man would always be special in her life, even though they would probably only spend a few days with each other.

He would be the first to love her.

‘Victoria, you are so lovely, so beautiful.’ He touched her cheek, then his fingers trailed down her neck to the tip of her breast. Lightly he caressed her, taunting.

And Victoria did not resist. It was too delicious, too wonderful to be here, lying in his arms, prey to new and wonderful sensations. When his lips sought the tip of her breast and his fingers coursed between her thighs she gasped at the novel awareness. Pulling her to him, Rodolfo pressed her against him, making her feel his desire.

‘I want you, cara,’ he repeated hoarsely, eyes holding hers.

Victoria couldn’t reply, simply allowed him to continue this wonderful magic he was performing on her body, which left her pliant and limp with a need so strong she could not do anything but let out a sigh of longing. As though sensing her need, Rodolfo let his fingers venture further, seeking her core, caressing now in new ways, seeking the deepest secrets of her being. And Victoria gave way, let out a little cry when at last he brought her to completion, and she arched before falling back in his arms.

‘You must tell what you like, what you want,’ he whispered, still unaware that she had never shared an adventure like this before. Then, before she could answer, he straddled her, and lowered himself on top of her. How he wanted to reach inside her, feel the wet honeyed heat he’d already touched. But as he eased himself inside her a surprise awaited him. All at once he stopped, and his eyes sought hers.

‘Cara, is this possible?’ he said in a low husky voice. ‘Are you a virgin?’

‘Yes,’ Victoria whispered, flushed with excitement and embarrassment. Perhaps Rodolfo would despise her for being such an innocent.

‘But, my darling, you should have told me,’ he murmured, drawing back. ‘This puts a completely different light on the situation.’

He was about to withdraw completely when her arms came up about his neck and her eyes met his.

‘No. It doesn’t. I want you, Rodolfo. I want the first time to be with you,’ she whispered, drawing him back towards her.

‘Are you absolutely certain?’ he muttered, finding it hard to exercise self-control when her body was arching towards him, her eyes filled with such passion and longing.

‘Absolutely sure.’

For a moment he hesitated. Then slowly he entered her once more. ‘I promise I’ll do my best not to hurt you, cara,’ he whispered.

Victoria knew a moment’s pain as he penetrated her. Then it faded and her body relaxed. Heat rushed to her breasts, to her abdomen. She felt herself melting, needed to feel him deeper inside her. Her hips arched, following the rhythm of this new and exciting dance, until they moved together in a primal ritual. She threw her head back and let out a low gasp of delight when together they came, falling over the edge of a high precipice and collapsing in each other’s arms onto the rumpled sheets.

As he lay holding her in his arms Rodolfo let out a sigh of satisfaction. It was ages since he’d experienced anything so intense as their lovemaking. In fact, if truth be told, he’d only known it once before—with Giada. Now, as he stroked Victoria’s hair and kissed her temple tenderly, he felt a new and heightened responsibility towards this girl who had entrusted him with her womanhood.

‘Are you all right?’ he said, slipping away from her to lie next to her, his hand moving to her abdomen in a protective gesture that did not go unnoticed.

Victoria nodded. Her throat was knotted and she couldn’t speak. So many emotions were going through her. It was wonderful, thrilling. Yet it was difficult to face the fact that the situation was nothing but a transient affair which would end in a few days when life went back to normal.

‘I’m fine,’ she whispered, when at last she was able to speak.

‘Are you sure?’ He looked down at her tenderly, his dark eyes filled with concern. She could read the doubt. Yet there was also a look of pride in his expression. And she realised that he was taking her initiation into the world of love much more seriously than she had expected. It touched her, and tears filled her eyes. ‘Cara, what is the matter?’ he said, frowning, ‘did I hurt you?’

‘No, Rodolfo, it’s nothing. I’m just a bit mixed up, that’s all. So much has happened in the past few days, and now this. Don’t get me wrong. It’s wonderful. I’m glad it happened. I wanted it as much as you. It’s just a lot to handle, that’s all.’

‘I understand, cara.’ He held her close, kissed her hair and let his arms enfold her.

Victoria gloried in the embrace, wished it could go on for ever, and heaved a sigh of regret that soon she would be on her way and life as she’d known it for the past couple of days would be nothing but a distant memory.

CHAPTER SIX

‘YOU CAN’T STAY HIDDEN there for ever,’ Anne insisted next day, when Victoria phoned her, sitting perched on the balustrade of the terrace looking down past the olive groves at the sea.

‘Anne, I—’ Victoria wanted to tell her about Bill, about the awful phone call and how scared she was. But something stopped her.

‘What is it, Vic?’

‘Nothing.’

Anne hesitated. ‘Vic, is something the matter?’

‘No, not at all. In fact very much the opposite. The Prince has been a wonderful host.’

‘Look, they want to shoot those pictures in London in four days.’

‘Four days?’

‘Exactly. I’ve made arrangements for a jet to pick you up on the island and fly you to London. I’ll be there to pick you up.’

So she’d been right. It was all a dream that would come to an end as fast as it had begun. Victoria stared at the sea, at a woman leading a loaded donkey on the path below, and sighed.

‘Vic? Are you still there? Tell me, how did you like the island? See any property that you might want to invest in?’

‘It’s very nice. But frankly I’m not sure about it.’ The thought of being on the island, so close to Rodolfo and having to perhaps see him with another woman, would be unbearable, she realised suddenly. The last thing she wanted was to live here if she couldn’t be with him. ‘We’ll talk about it when I see you.’

‘Okay. Fine. Have a good time. I’ll call you again with the departure time. By the way, I think things are beginning to die down on the press front. Ed’s cooled down.’

‘Good. Bye then.’

Victoria swallowed as she laid down the receiver. She thought of Bill and the twenty-four-hour deadline he’d given her to come up with some cash. Should she pay him off and be left in peace for a while? Or would he simply become an ongoing threat, always there, ready to blackmail her whenever he wanted more money?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a movement from inside the castello. She looked up. A tall, slim blonde woman in well-cut white trousers and a black linen top, with a large leather handbag flung over her shoulder and a haughty expression, stepped onto the terrace.

‘And who,’ she demanded peremptorily, ‘are you?’ She tipped up her designer sunglasses to take better stock of Victoria.

‘I’m staying here,’ Victoria replied, bristling. Who was this creature, and what right did she have to question her?

‘Oh. How strange,’ she said. She had a foreign accent. ‘Where is he—do you know?’

‘Who?’

‘Why, the Prince, of course. Who else?’ The woman cast Victoria a withering look.

‘I have no idea. Perhaps in his office,’ Victoria replied coldly. ‘He said he had business to attend to.’

‘I see. Are you the new secretary?’ the woman enquired, looking her up and down. ‘Why aren’t you inside working?’

‘Look, I really don’t see what business it is of yours who I am or what I do,’ Victoria muttered icily.

At that moment Rodolfo stepped out onto the terrace. He took in the scene and cleared his throat. ‘Alexandra. What an unexpected surprise. I didn’t know you were on the island.’

‘My yacht anchored this morning. You look in good form, mein lieber.’ The woman sidled up to him, slipped an arm around his neck and deposited a kiss on his lips.

‘Uh, yes, I’m fine. I see you’ve met Victoria,’ Rodolfo added hastily, amazed at Countess Alexandra’s extraordinary behaviour.

She was one of the women the council had suggested he marry. Seeing her now, next to Victoria, he realised how impossible that would be. Alexandra was domineering and cold, even though her beauty and chic were undeniable. He glanced at Victoria, saw the tempestuous pain in her eyes, and felt his heart sink. The way Alexandra was behaving, Victoria would naturally believe there was something between them.

‘I haven’t been introduced. I didn’t know you allowed your staff to dawdle about,’ Alexandra pronounced in a low sultry voice.

‘Staff?’

‘Well, isn’t she your new secretary?’ Alexandra said, as though Victoria weren’t there.

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Rodolfo returned, annoyed, and stepped pointedly away from her. ‘Victoria, may I introduce Countess Alexandra von Bellinghof? This is Victoria Woodward. You have perhaps seen her in the movie which won so much acclaim at the Cannes Film Festival.’

Alexandra looked taken aback, but she quickly came about. ‘Ah, yes, of course. I should have recognised you immediately. After all, you’ve been front-page news for the past few days, haven’t you?’ The Countess’s tone was patronising and laced with venom.

Victoria seethed inwardly, but held her temper in check. She could tell the woman was determined to provoke her but she wouldn’t rise to the bait.

‘Part of the trials of fame,’ she answered languidly. ‘One keeps on having to deal with the paparazzi and the gutter press.’

‘Victoria is here incognito,’ Rodolfo said hastily. ‘I shall expect your complete discretion,’ he insisted.

‘Oh, goodness. Well, of course.’ Alexandra waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m sure you have enough troubles without being hounded by the curious. Though, of course, if one has the unwholesome habits you’re reputed to indulge in, then…’ She let the rest of the sentence trail, turned from Victoria and shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s the best one can expect.’

Rodolfo’s blood boiled, and he replied icily, ‘Alexandra, you should have called before coming here. I’m afraid this isn’t a very convenient time. Why don’t I give you a buzz when I’m able to make some arrangement to see you socially?’ he said, slipping his hand under her elbow and guiding her firmly back towards the living room.

Victoria was pleased to see the woman’s features stiffen. Then Alexandra drew herself up and sniffed. ‘Of course—I’m sorry if I’m in the way. I shall leave immediately. You are obviously very busy. I imagine you must be amusing yourself quite nicely,’ she added, in a low conspiratorial voice that was calculated to reach Victoria.

Despite her anger, Victoria’s cheeks turned red. Was it written all over her that she’d slept with Rodolfo? Or was the woman just a bitch? Whichever the case, she felt diminished and offended.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Rodolfo said a couple of minutes later. ‘Alexandra was being particularly obnoxious today.’ He laughed, making light of the situation, but Victoria could see that he was ruffled.

‘Who is she anyway?’

‘A German countess whose parents have a property on the island.’

‘She seemed to be quite intimate with you.’

‘Hmmm.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I have a feeling that was for your benefit.’

‘Why?’

‘I think Alexandra sensed something between us. She knows that the council of the island are urging me to find a suitable wife and get married. They are concerned with the succession. Obviously Alexandra has her own agenda.’ He approached, lifted Victoria’s chin and peered into her clear grey eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, cara?’

Victoria caught the glint of male satisfaction in his eyes. ‘Not in the least,’ she answered, sending him a bright smile. She would not let him know the devastating effect of Alexandra’s gestures. She would not give him that satisfaction.

Swooping an arm possessively around her, Rodolfo brought her up close. ‘How about a drive around the island? We could picnic somewhere, if you like, or I could take you to lunch at my favourite restaurant in Lamara—a village at the end of the island. I promise you Alexandra won’t bother us again. I sent her away with a flea in her ear.’