Bought by the Billionaire Prince by Carol Marinelli

Author:Carol Marinelli [Marinelli, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, General, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories, Billionaires, Casinos
ISBN: 9780263216295
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

‘Breakfast is here!’

A sharp rap at the door and Luca’s even sharper voice had Meg waking with a start and the mother of all mortification.

If she’d made wild passionate love to him she’d have felt better—but waking up in the empty bed, gradually orientating herself, piecing together the previous days, Meg cringed with embarrassment. Not at being labelled a thief or finding herself locked up, nor at the shame of being arrested in front of a crowd of curious onlookers, but at what had taken place long after the day was over: crying out in her sleep—reaching out to Luca when he’d come, holding onto him throughout the night….

Letting out a low moan, Meg rolled over, inhaling his heavy, unmistakable scent that lingered on the sheets, seeing the indent in the pillow, the bed still warm from where he’d lain beside her—wondering how she could summon the nerve to head out to the lounge and face him….

‘Good morning!’ Wearing a false smile brighter than the sun blazing through the windows, Meg breezed into the living room, curiously deflated that her grand entrance was masked by the vast broadsheet he was engrossed in as he sat at a beautifully decorated table. The heady scent of fresh flowers that hadn’t been there last night mingled with the aroma of coffee. There were crisp white napkins and heavy silver cutlery fit for a five-star restaurant—a world away from the backpacker hostels that had been home for the last few months.

‘Buongiorno.’ He flicked a hand in the vague direction of a vast silver trolley that had been wheeled into the room. ‘Help yourself to breakfast.’

It wasn’t just the table that was elaborate—clearly room service took on a whole new meaning when you were living at the palace. Meg would have quickly helped herself had there been anything as straightforward as cereal, but the trolley groaned under the weight of various hams, sickly pastries and an array of olives and syrupy fruits. What was it with the Italians that their breakfasts looked more like an evening meal? Meg had loved France with the crusty rolls and hot chocolate breakfasts, but this was all way too much.

‘If you would prefer a cooked breakfast I can call the chef.’

‘No, no.’ Meg shook her head, her stomach curdling at the thought. Even though she was well into her recovery, Meg was still nervous of eating in front of strangers, especially at this hour of the morning—so, bypassing the meats and oil-soaked delicacies, she fashioned something similar to the breakfast she had enjoyed in France, taking a thick slice of olive bread smothered in rock salt and adding a dash of coffee as thick as treacle to a glass of warm milk poured from a heavy silver jug.

‘Come!’ Impatiently Luca gestured for her to join him. ‘I have to go into work

shortly—is that all you are having?’ He frowned. ‘It’s no trouble to call the chef….’

‘I’m fine—thank you.’

‘Tonight we eat out,’ Luca said. ‘Away from here, away from the casino—there is a nice bayside restaurant I will take you to.

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