Prince's Virgin In Venice
Cinderella will go to the ball… And be seduced by the Prince Prince Vittorio’s spontaneous invitation to shy hotel maid Rosa is supposed to end at Venice’s most exclusive Carnival ball. Yet their instant chemistry soon leads to a scorching encounter! It’s meant to be Vittorio’s last taste of pleasure before duty demands he marry and provide an heir. But will one night with unexpected virgin Rosa be enough to slake his desire for her…?
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Cinderella will go to the ball...
And be seduced by the prince
Prince Vittorio’s spontaneous invitation to shy hotel maid Rosa is supposed to end at Venice’s most exclusive Carnival ball. Yet their instant chemistry soon leads to a scorching encounter! It’s meant to be Vittorio’s last taste of pleasure before duty demands he marry and provide an heir. But will one night with unexpected virgin Rosa be enough to slake his desire for her?
Escape to Italy with this royal romance
USA TODAY bestselling author TRISH MOREY just loves happy endings. Now that her four daughters are—mostly—grown and off her hands, having left the nest, Trish is rapidly working out that a real happy ending is when you downsize, end up alone with the guy you married and realise you still love him. There’s a happy-ever-after right there. Or a happy new beginning! Trish loves to hear from her readers—you can email her at [email protected].
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ISBN: 978-1-474-08808-4
PRINCE’S VIRGIN IN VENICE
© 2019 Trish Morey
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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To magical Venezia,
floating city of love and romance.
Contents
Note to Readers
PRINCE VITTORIO D’MARBURG of Andachstein was fed up. Bored. Even in Venice at the height of carnival season, even on his way to the most exclusive party of the festival, still the Playboy Prince couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense of frustration that permeated his skin and drilled straight down into his bones.
Or maybe it was just the icy pricks from the February pea soup fog needling his skin that were turning his thoughts from carnival to cynical. It was a fog that turned the magical city invisible, precisely when the calles and narrow bridges were more crowded than ever with waves of costumed partygoers surging to and fro, competing for the available space—brightly garbed men and women for whom the fog failed to dampen the air of excitement and the energy that accompanied Carnevale.
It was if the floating city had been let off a leash and, fog or no, it was going to party.
Vittorio cut a swathe through the endless tide of carnival-goers, his cloak swirling in his wake, his mood blackening with every step.
The thronging crowds somehow parted and made way for him. He didn’t think too much about it. Maybe it was his warrior costume—a coat of mail and blue leather dressed with chain and gold braid—or maybe it was his battle-ready demeanour. Either way, it was as if they could read the hostility in his eyes as he headed towards the most exclusive party of the night.
