The Playboy Prince of Scandal
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Susan Stephens
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CHAPTER ONE
‘SOFIA ACOSTA? Are you serious?’ Cesar speared a look at his long-suffering equerry, Domenico de Sufriente. Dom had been reading out the proposed guest list for Prince Cesar’s annual banquet celebrating the start of the polo season, to be held at Cesar’s palazzo in Rome.
‘Signorina Acosta should be invited with her brothers,’ Dom pointed out, ‘or you risk insulting the entire Acosta family.’
Cesar frowned. That would not do. He planned to play exhibition matches in aid of charity with the Acosta brothers’ Team Lobos in various locations across the world. Working out a way to exclude his least favourite woman without offending her brothers was impossible. It couldn’t be done.
Dom cleared his throat to attract Cesar’s attention. ‘You expressed a wish to field a mixed team for your next charity event. Having grown up in competition with her brothers, Sofia Acosta is—’
‘Don’t mention that woman to me!’
‘One of the finest riders of her generation,’ Dom ventured.
‘But not a professional rider like her brothers,’ Cesar pointed out.
‘True, but there are few who can match her on the field of play.’
After the furore she had created, Sofia would pull in the crowds, Cesar silently conceded. The exhibition matches would benefit all his charities. ‘Her skill on horseback is undeniable, but I’ll never forgive her for what she did.’ Using his hand like a blade showed his feelings on the matter.
‘The article?’ Dom proposed mildly.
‘Of course the article.’ What Sofia had written was the most florid pack of lies, and with her by-line brazenly plastered over the rubbish in a newspaper belonging to Cesar’s old adversary Howard Blake. He’d been at odds with the man since their schooldays, when Blake had stopped at nothing to get some innocent fellow student to take any blame directed at him—until he’d tried it on with Cesar. That hadn’t gone too well for Blake, Cesar recalled.
What was the relationship between Blake and Sofia? Was she another innocent dupe, playing a role in some new tactic Howard had thought up to bring Cesar down to repay him for policing Blake during their years at school? Was it possible Sofia hadn’t realised the harm the article could do to her family and to his? Why target him at all? They met in passing at polo matches, so why had she set out to destroy his reputation?
He only knew the woman through her brothers, though he’d registered Sofia’s face and figure, as both were outstanding. Was she in cahoots with Blake? Without knowing the facts, he could rule nothing out. There was only one certainty, and that was that he refused to dignify her smut with a response.
‘I will deal with Sofia Acosta in my own time.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Dom bowed his head, but not before Cesar had caught sight of the expression on his equerry’s face. ‘Why are you looking so smug, almost as if this pleases you? You’re lucky that you still have a job—that anyone in the palace has a job. Sofia Acosta tried to bring us all down, so please don’t suggest she has any finer qualities. She’s a typical over-achiever, dipping her snout into multiple troughs because she can’t bring herself to keep it out. I applaud dynamism, but not when the only possible motive is profit.’
‘She rides like a demon,’ Dom reminded him.
‘Perhaps you would too, if you’d grown up in a horse-mad family.’
‘I doubt it,’ Dom murmured beneath his breath as he straightened his perfectly straight tie.
‘Regrettably, she would be an asset to the team,’ Cesar added, musing out loud. ‘She’d draw the crowds based on her scandalous nib-dipping alone.’
Money-grabbing siren, he raged inwardly. Sofia Acosta might have the face of an angel, and a body made for sin, but it seemed to him that she’d stop at nothing, even bringing down a country, if it stood in the way of her lining her pockets.
A warm breeze chose that moment to steal in through an open window. It went some way to softening his tension, by reminding him of what lay outside the palace. However luxurious—and Palazzo Ardente was exquisite—a palace was just a set of rooms, static and unchanging, while the ocean and the beach were fresh and new every day.
‘Just don’t put that woman anywhere near me,’ he instructed as he left his desk.
‘The banquet will be held at your palazzo in Rome where there is a very long dining table...’
‘Excellent. I will sit at the head, while Sofia will be at the far end with my mother and sister.’ The hint of a smile tugged his hard mouth. ‘I’d like to see Signorina Nib-Scribbler lecture them on the error of my ways.’
Sofia Acosta, outstanding polo player, amateur artist and sometime journalist, had famously written an article about European royalty, mostly featuring Cesar, though she had also taken a passing swipe at her brothers. The headline banner had screamed, ‘Is Royalty Necessary in Today’s World?’ The piece had caused a storm on social media. As an ex-Special Forces, polo-playing billionaire prince, Cesar had been put under the microscope—Sofia’s fantasy microscope. His reported success with women, according to her, had made him sound more like a rampaging satyr than a dutiful prince.
She’d found numerous archive shots, showing him in every form of undress: playing polo bareback, barefoot, in banged-up jeans, topless, with a bandana tied around his head, making him look more like a kickboxer on vacation than a serious-minded working royal. There was even one of him naked beneath a waterfall, slicking back his hair as if he had nothing better to do than idle away his time in a tropical lagoon.
Granted, a few shots showed him in his official capacity, but always with an array of different women on his arm.
Had there really been so many?
The upshot of it was that a playboy billionaire, more intent on womanising and indulging in a hedonistic lifestyle than leading his country, was as far away from the man he was as it was possible to imagine. Duty came first. Now. Then. Always.
Not to say he had no appetite for pleasure, but that was then and this was now, and he always looked forward. Sofia Acosta had dredged up the past, embroidering the facts until they could only cast doubt in people’s minds. What he found almost harder to believe was the way she’d dragged her brothers through the same mire. So much for family loyalty!
Why should he forgive Sofia Acosta for making him and his friends of many years the butt of her argument when she hadn’t given him the courtesy of seeing her words before they had gone to print? The effect on his pride might have been fleeting, but the longer-lasting effect on his country, and on the trust of his people, was what he cared about. Had she thought of that before she had put pen to paper? He doubted Sofia Acosta had thought of anyone but herself.
And now he was expected to sit in the same room as this woman and make small talk with her?
‘Sofia Acosta won’t be the last unwanted guest you are forced to welcome,’ Dom pointed out, reading Cesar’s mind with his customary ease. ‘Think of this as a trial run for the many unpleasant duties you’ll face in the years to come.’ Dom turned the page in his notebook. ‘You requested a meeting with Sofia’s brothers and your sister Olivia after the formal dinner?’
‘Correct.’ Anything to avoid dancing with the twittering princesses his mother and sister had no doubt seen fit to invite.
‘And Sofia Acosta will be included as well?’ Dom pressed diffidently.
‘She will have to be included,’ he reluctantly agreed. He frowned. ‘That’s supposing we can drag Signorina Acosta away from her hippy commune.’
‘The facility is more of a retreat,’ Don ventured as he handed over a report, ‘funded entirely by Signorina Acosta.’
‘With money inherited from her parents?’
Don confirmed this.
‘So, the demon rider has some redeeming features,’ he murmured as he scanned the report Dom had offered for him to read.
‘This is my decision,’ he stated. Unfolding his athletic frame from the chair, he went to stand by the window. ‘I will meet with the Acostas, including Sofia Acosta, and my sister Olivia, after the state dinner while the other guests are enjoying dancing to the orchestra.’
‘A wise decision, sir.’
Dom had his head down, but why was he smiling? What was his equerry thinking? Recently, Cesar had begun to doubt Dom’s advice, because something had changed in his manner. His equerry wasn’t as open as he had used to be.
Before he could progress his thoughts, a pair of sparkling black eyes invaded his mind. They belonged to a voluptuous woman who could throw any man off his game. It was hard to avoid Sofia Acosta when they attended polo matches across the world, and when their paths crossed there was always fire between them.
There’d be no fire at his dinner. Sofia must learn that she could not profit from rumour and stolen, off-duty snaps. She knew nothing about him. He knew even less about her. If Dom handled arrangements for the dinner correctly, that was how it would remain.
‘If you could stop painting for a moment and speak to me!’ exclaimed the magnificent brute on his towering black stallion. ‘I should never have agreed to this!’
‘If you would stop ranting for a moment and keep still,’ Sofia soothed, ‘maybe I could finish this...’
Paintbrush high, she checked her work, and silently admitted that it was nigh on impossible to capture the darkly glittering glamour of a man who overshadowed everything in his immediate vicinity, including the stallion he was mounted on. ‘Against all the odds,’ she declared as she laid down her brush, ‘I’ve finished. Come and see, if you like—I’m sure you’ll love to see yourself blazing like a comet, fiercer than your stallion Thor.’
‘Which is exactly the impression you intended to convey, I imagine,’ Xander commented in a husky drawl as he eased his neck. ‘Why must everything be sensational in your world, Sofia? Why can’t you settle for calm?’
‘If that’s a reference to the article—’ She stopped speaking as hurt overtook Sofia’s natural desire to defend herself. Xander was her eldest brother, and the only one of the four prepared to listen to her defence when it came to an article that had appeared in print under her name but had been written by someone else. As of now she had nothing to back up her claim.
‘You’re a talented woman,’ her brother insisted as he dismounted. ‘You have your retreat, your riding... And you’re a passable artist,’ he remarked grudgingly as he scanned the canvas she’d been working on. ‘You don’t need to add journalist to your quiver of accomplishments. Be content with what you’ve got. Settle down. Enjoy life.’
‘Like you?’
Xander ignored this reference to his continuing bachelor state. Having had responsibility for the entire family thrust upon him when their parents had died, he’d never loosened up and allowed himself to live.
‘Why this pressing urge to see yourself in print, Sofia? I’m guessing it must have paid well.’
That was what all her brothers thought—that she had sold her soul to the devil in return for a hefty pay-out. The truth was rather more complicated. She had never wanted to see her name in print, but the offer of lots of money to write ‘something harmless’ had proved irresistible. There were so many people she wanted to help at the retreat she had created. Without a constant flow of funds that was just impossible.
Since her mother’s death, Sofia had lived her life as she believed her mother would have wanted her to, which included building a haven where others could escape for a while to recover from their difficult lives. Never in a million years had she imagined that once the article was written it would be changed, or that her brothers would be put under the same distorted spotlight.
Both they and Prince Cesar did so much good in the world, and yet some sleazy scribe had altered Sofia’s words to make it seem that they and Cesar showed one face to the public, while living scandalous lives. If she didn’t keep her mouth shut, there would be more articles, she had been promised, and these would be worse than the first. To protect her brothers she couldn’t say anything, not even to Xander, though the article had done irreparable harm to their relationship.
Finding pony nuts in his pocket, Xander gave his stallion some treats before handing him over to a waiting groom. Turning around, he dipped his head to confront Sofia. ‘Who wants to read everything in the garden of the super-rich is rosy? Was that your thinking? I don’t understand you Sofia. Why didn’t you come to me for money, instead of selling your cross-eyed opinions to that scurrilous rag?’
Because the damage had been done. The article she had written in good faith had already been changed.
‘If you need money so badly I’ll make you a loan right now—’
‘No. Please!’ Xander was always ready to save the day, but she had to do this to prove the article was a lie. The threat of a second article appearing under her by-line, mentioning trumped-up charges involving financial shenanigans between Cesar and her brothers, was enough to secure Sofia’s silence.
‘There’s something you aren’t telling me,’ Xander stated with certainty.
This was the moment she should tell him the truth, but from the moment they had been orphaned, Xander had taken all the responsibility on his shoulders. She had to sort this out. ‘I’m not a child any longer. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, as we all do, but you must let me stand on my own two feet.’
‘Your stubbornness will be the end of you,’ Xander snapped as they left the barn. ‘I can’t understand why you picked out Cesar for special mention. He’s done more good than you know, and yet you appear to have gone out of your way to undermine him. You put a country at risk with a few thoughtless words, making out that Cesar is a playboy prince when nothing could be further from the truth. I expected better of you, Sofia.’
She expected better of herself and, knowing she deserved every stinging word, she remained mute.
‘Cesar would never discuss the good he does,’ Xander continued, frowning, ‘and I’ve no doubt some of the readers will believe your piece of smut. The way you dwelled on him, anyone would think you were half in love with him and jealous of the life he leads.’
‘Which only shows how little you know me.’ She sounded defiant, but she was broken inside. Xander thinking so little of her hurt like hell. The article had paid well, and every penny of the money had gone to her retreat. The demand for places had expanded so rapidly she’d desperately needed additional funds. Naively believing that what she wrote would be printed word for word, the chance to write an article for a national newspaper had seemed too good to be true. And guess what?
As for falling in love with Cesar... The little she’d seen of that magnificent monster had convinced her that she could never fall in love with such a hard-bitten individual. She’d tried love and had found it a pallid substitute for the romantic novels that had informed her teenage years. That had been when she had been unable to secure a date. Having four high-octane brothers, overlooking her every move, had hardly been an incentive for likely suitors. Rubbing paint-covered hands down her paint-covered, overall, she took Xander to task on the subject of Cesar. ‘Every single time I’ve met the man he’s seemed insufferably superior.’
‘I think you’re harking back to one time when I had to remind you to curtsey when Prince Cesar visited our family home to trial some ponies. You were sixteen years old. Cesar was twenty-four. You may have noticed that over the years that he’s changed. You’ve both changed. He’s a hard man because he’s had to be.’
Cesar had almost had the throne snatched from under his nose, she remembered. According to the press, a self-seeking man who cared nothing for the Queen, her family or the country had somehow weaselled his way into court, where, with a great deal of flattery and false promises, he had set about making himself indispensable to the Queen—a polite way of reporting he had been her lover. Having uncovered the truth and banished the conman from the kingdom, Cesar had stayed on at court to support and comfort his mother. Sofia heaved a sigh. So he wasn’t all bad, just autocratic, aloof and way beyond her reach.
‘You will accept the Prince’s invitation,’ Xander stated firmly. ‘His banquet will be your first step towards rehabilitation before you appear in the match.’ She had to drag her mind back to the present as Xander continued, ‘It’s the least you can do. If the public sees you playing polo with the Prince, it will reassure them that things are back to normal.’
Whether it did or not, the thought of seeing Cesar again both chilled and excited her. As compelling as a human cyclone sweeping along on a wave of testosterone, Prince Cesar of Ardente was perfect hero material for susceptible females, but Sofia was neither susceptible nor was she in the mood for trembling in awe at a royal prince’s feet. There was nothing more tiresome, in Sofia’s opinion, than a six-foot-plus titan lording it over her, as she, with four self-opinionated brothers, was well placed to judge.
‘We will attend Cesar’s banquet as a family.’ Xander stated in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘He has requested a meeting with all of us, including his sister Olivia, after the banquet to discuss the upcoming charity polo matches, in which, I presume, you’ll be playing.’
‘Of course.’ Sofia’s retreat was one of the charities that would benefit. She could hardly refuse. Neither would she refuse the invitation to Cesar’s banquet, though it meant confronting the man she had supposedly slammed in print. That was the best reason for attending she could think of. She’d see her brothers again, and if Cesar really thought so little of her, she had no further to fall.
