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“Charlotte?” He’d thought it was her, but he hadn’t been sure. Until now. Memories crashed through him. He’d never forgotten her. She’d been the only person in his life who’d treated him like he wasn’t a rarified being. She’d made him feel normal, ordinary, at a time when official pressures had been ratcheting up higher as he’d grown from a boy into a man.

He’d enjoyed her company. And her body.

Her blue eyes flashed fire. “Yes. And I have nothing to say to you, so I’m leaving. Right now.”

She spun and marched toward the door, but Luca was there first. Blocking her way. She stamped a foot. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

He felt a sudden flash of heat as he considered doing just that. If they were in Iria, he could have her taken to his rooms in the palace. And then he could kiss her senseless.

But the woman staring at him with murder in her eyes wasn’t about to let anyone kiss her, senseless or otherwise.

“Is this any way to greet an old friend?”

She put her hands on her hips, emphasizing her lush curves. “You are no friend of mine, Luca De Santis.”

His gaze traveled over her full breasts, the dip of her waist, her generous hips. Killer curves. Lush curves. Curves he suddenly wanted to explore. He’d had her once, and it had been so sweet.

“I used to be.” He let his gaze slide back up to her eyes. Her glare wasn’t quite so pronounced now. Her breathing grew shallower as he pinned her with a look. “I want to be again. Very much.”