are told.’
Natalia swallowed. She was quite aware that her father’s threat was real, unlike her own to Ben Jackson the other night. And the thought of being penniless and virtually imprisoned did not appeal to her at all. For a blinding second she hated being a princess, hated its restrictions and regulations, the oppressive expectation of royal duty, the secrets and shame she was forced to hide.
‘Very well, Father,’ she finally managed. ‘I will do my best to be a credit to you and the Santina family.’
Her father waved his hand in obvious dismissal, and burning with frustration, Natalia swept out of the chamber. She stood in the opulent front hallway of the palazzo, half a dozen liveried guards flanking the various arched doorways. She could not volunteer for Ben Jackson. The thought filled her with a panicky fear that she couldn’t bear to feel. Too much was out of her control. Too many possibilities of being humiliated, exposed—and by Ben Jackson, smirking in triumph.
The thought made her stomach churn and she felt physically sick. She had her reasons for acting the way she did, hiding in plain sight. She did not want Ben guessing them. Knowing them. Knowing her.
Natalia drew a deep breath and threw her shoulders back. Very well. If she could not convince her father to drop this ridiculous scheme, then she would have to convince the other man involved. She would talk to Ben Jackson himself.
Ben heard the gasps of shock from the reception area of his rented office and leaned back in his chair, smiling in anticipation. That had been quick.
A second later the door to his office burst open and Princess Natalia Santina stood there, her slanted hazel cat’s eyes narrowed and glittering with fury. With her blond pixie hair cut and her long, lithe body, she looked, Ben thought, a bit like an elf. A rather naughty elf. He couldn’t quite forget the image of her in that indecent dress last night. It had barely covered her bottom. Then she’d looked like sex in high heels; now she looked every inch the elegant princess, wearing a pink linen shift, high heeled slingback sandals and wraparound sunglasses which she’d pushed up onto her head. She also looked utterly furious. Ben smiled.
‘Ah, so prompt, Princess. But I believe I arranged with your father for you to start on Tuesday?’ He let his smile widen. He could practically see the steam coming from her ears. ‘So consider this a twenty-four-hour reprieve.’
Natalia took a step into the room. Her chest heaved, although when she spoke her voice was level. ‘You cannot really think,’ she said coldly, ‘to go through with this … this ridiculous idea.’
So she was going to try and play the princess card. Ben laced his hands behind his head and lounged back in his chair. ‘Oh, but I can,’ he assured her. ‘Your father was really quite taken with it.’
‘My father—’ She bit off the words, looking like she wanted to chew them up and spit them out.
‘Thought it would be good for you,’ Ben filled in helpfully.
Natalia glared. ‘I know what my father thinks, thank you very much.’
‘Then there’s no problem.’
She drew a deep breath. ‘There is very much a problem, Mr—’
‘Ben.’
‘Ben.’
She was so very angry. Really, Ben thought idly, she looked rather magnificent when she was furious. Her eyes glittered and her cheeks were flushed, her breasts heaving underneath the snug pink linen of her dress. He could almost imagine what she would be like in bed.
Natalia Santina was a woman who gave as good as she got. The thought of matching her between the sheets had a distinct appeal … and one Ben knew he would have to resist. He chose his affairs with care and discretion, two words he could not apply to the princess. But he was looking forward to being her boss.
Natalia took another step into the room. She drew a breath and let it out slowly, smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress. Ben braced himself for a new tactic. ‘Look,’ she said, and her voice was pitched low, appealing. Sexy. He banished the thought and looked alert and interested, as if he might actually change his mind.
‘I know we were winding each other up last night, but that’s all it really was.’ She smiled, playfully, and despite his best intentions to remain unmoved Ben felt his pulse kick up a notch. This woman really affected him, in more ways than he cared to admit. Again he questioned the wisdom of having her here, flitting around, smiling so sexily. No, he could handle it. He would stay in control. Always. He smiled blandly back.
‘Was it?’
Irritation flashed in those hazel eyes. ‘You know it was. I can’t actually … participate in this camp of yours.’
Her tone invited him to share the absurdity of such a concept and, smiling regretfully, Ben shook his head. ‘Oh, but you can.’
‘But I’m—’ She stopped suddenly but Ben could easily guess what she’d been about to say.
‘A princess?’ he filled in. ‘And princesses can’t get their hands dirty? Can’t mingle with the masses? Can’t do a single day’s work in their bloody useless lives?’
Natalia recoiled, and underneath the anger Ben thought he saw a flash of vulnerability. Then she drew herself up, all haughty disdain, and he was reminded of just what a spoilt snob she really was. He knew what it meant to work. He knew what it was to try and fail and then try again. His father may have once been a famous footballer, but Ben had made his own money, his own life far from the scandal and notoriety of his upbringing. He’d earned the respect he now garnered; it hadn’t been given to him simply because of who he was. Not like this princess. He’d be damned if he’d let her try to walk all over him.
‘It’s simply not reasonable,’ she said, clearly now going for quiet dignity. A little too late for that.
‘I don’t see why.’
‘Because—’
‘Just what do you have against volunteering at my sports camp?’ Ben asked, leaning forward. He genuinely wanted to know the answer. ‘The children are generally friendly and well-behaved, and they can actually be quite a laugh. You might, heaven forbid, enjoy yourself.’
‘You’ve done these camps before?’
‘A few. One in London, another in Liverpool. Coming here was a way to launch possible camps all over Europe.’
‘Ambitious, aren’t you?’
Ben simply shrugged. ‘So? What do you have against it?’
She stared at him and he saw something flicker in those hazel-green eyes, something that looked remarkably like fear. ‘I don’t know anything about football,’ she finally said.
‘It’s not as if I’d expect you to coach.’
She didn’t speak for a long moment. With the tiniest flicker of sympathy, Ben could just imagine how trapped she felt. Even he had been surprised at how readily King Eduardo had agreed to his plan. The rather dismissive way he’d discussed his daughter had caused Ben a ripple of unease. Natalia may be spoilt, snobbish, vain and even useless, but she was still the man’s child. He had spoken about her, at least a little bit, as if she were nothing but a bother and embarrassment.
Finally she lifted her chin, settled her flintily determined gaze upon him. ‘What would you have me do?’
Ben felt a surge of triumph, as well as a reluctant wave of admiration. The woman had courage. And pride. Too much of it, of course. He shrugged, spreading his hands. ‘Whatever needs doing, really. Office work to begin with—’
‘Office work?’ For a second she looked panicked, which surprised him. Surely office work would be preferable to getting mucky with the children on a football pitch.
‘The camp doesn’t actually launch for another week,’ Ben