Amber And The Rogue Prince. Элли Блейк

as they curled. “I’d like it very much if you were.”

      Her chest rose and fell as her eyes darted between his. She licked her lips then glanced away. “You have history here, I understand that. But you’re not the only one. Think on that as you sit in your big house, poring over your Machiavellian scheme to destroy this community.”

      “You paint quite the picture. You must have spent a great deal of time imagining what I’ve been up to since you threw me out.”

      Pink raced up her cheeks as her jaw clenched. “I can assure you, Prince Alessandro, the amount of time I have spent wondering about you is entirely proportional to my desire to figure out how to make you walk away for good.”

      “Hmm,” he said, not believing it for a second. The deep breaths, the darkness in her eyes—she was still as aware of him as he was of her. As much as she might want to switch off the fascination they had in one another, it was still alive and well.

      “Amber?”

      Amber blinked several times before they both turned towards a man with raging red hair gelled into painful-looking spikes. “Tansy. Hi. Sorry, I’m taking up a table. I...”

      Amber stopped when she realised that was clearly not Tansy’s concern. For Tansy was staring at Hugo as if he were an alien who’d landed a spaceship inside his shop. And behind him Tansy had amassed a small crowd, a veritable sea of tie-dye and hemp.

      “Is this...?” said Tansy. “Is he...?”

      “Why, yes,” said Amber, her voice nice and loud. “Tansy, this is Prince Alessandro Giordano, the man who is planning on stripping our hill bare.”

      Tansy shoved a hand between them. “So pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”

      “Hugo, please. My friends call me Hugo.”

      When the shake was done, Tansy’s heavily tattooed hands fluttered to his heart. “A prince. In my tea room. I honestly don’t know what to say.”

      “How about Get out?” said Amber as she hopped out of the seat and melted into the crowd. “How about Leave our village be? How about We don’t want your type here?”

      Hugo saw Prospero begin to head inside, clearly not liking the growing crowd. Hugo stayed him with a shake of the head.

      “Will you be King?” asked a woman twirling her hair and looking at him as if he were a hot lunch.

      Hugo searched the crowd until he saw Amber’s profile. She was whispering to someone in the back, no doubt working them to her favour.

      “No,” said Hugo. “Vallemont is a principality, not a kingdom. It is protected and overseen by a royal family, the head of which is my uncle, the Sovereign Prince. There are several people between me and the crown.”

      A ripple of disappointment swept through the small crowd.

      Hugo bit back a laugh. He heard that. But since his chance at a possible shot at the crown had been ripped away from him at the age of fifteen, he’d had to find other uses for himself. Building resorts gave his life meaning.

      “Now, who here loves a lagoon? Tennis courts? Who thinks this town could do with a yoga studio?”

      He no longer kept looking for Amber, but he could feel her glaring at him just fine.

      * * *

      Dying sunlight poured tracks of gold over the stone floor of the tiny little shopfront in Serenity she had inherited along with the beehives when she’d first arrived in town.