I don’t know what the prince wants from me, but I know I can’t refuse to see him. The steward stands in front of me, looking dour and annoyed like they always do, and I take a deep breath.

“Okay, lead the way,” I say in German.

He nods curtly and I follow him back toward the prince’s quarters. The stewards are basically like butlers, and every important person in the castle gets assigned one to look after him or her. I’ve never seen this steward before, but they’re always the same: prim and serious. They never step out of line, probably because they’re the ones that always have to directly deal with the nobles. The stewards typically keep to themselves, which I always found odd.

I follow the steward back to the prince’s room. I stop and knock on his door, and of course he makes some comment about that before he lets me in. I stand there and watch the prince as he walks into his kitchen and sips on a glass of whisky.

He’s looking at me like he’s appraising a fine cut of meat or something like that. I feel totally exposed and at his mercy, but if he thinks he can just do whatever he wants with me, he has another thing coming.

I won’t let some foreign prince push me around. I’m an American, damn it. I’m from the best country on earth and I was born free. I’m not going to be taken by some noble ass just because he wants me.

I don’t care if he’s incredibly handsome. And he smells good. And he has a very large royal package. And he’s funny, even a little charming. I don’t care if I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s not going to get whatever he wants just because he wants it.

“I know what you can do for me,” he says finally.

I let out a breath. “Yes? Do you need me to clean your sheets?”

He smirks but doesn’t take the bait. “I have a very particular problem, Hazel,” he says as he reaches down beneath the counter. He brings a bottle of whisky up. “Drink?”

I hesitate. “No, thanks,” I say.

He smiles and pours a second glass before topping himself off. “In case you change your mind.” He pushes it over to me.

Reluctantly, I walk into the room and pick up the glass. I sip the whisky, just to be polite. He’s still a prince, after all, and I should be nice to him. He’s my boss and I really do need this job.

The whisky is pretty good, and he smiles as I take another sip.

“You heard the news?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “Hard for me to follow news here,” I admit.

“Ah yes, the language barrier.”

“Right,” I say. “They speak too fast.”

He laughs. “That’s a new criticism. But since you don’t know, I’ll catch you up. It seems as though my father is going to pass me up for the position of crown prince.”

I blink at him. “What’s that mean?” I ask.

He laughs, grinning huge. “I like that you’re not from here,” he says. “It means that I won’t be king, and one of my asshole cousins will be.”

“Oh no,” I say, understanding. “That’s really awful. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He grins at me. “I have a very poor reputation in this country.”

“I heard,” I admit, and regret it immediately.

His grin gets even bigger. “What did you hear?”

“Just that you’re a… a player,” I say.

“Prince Player,” he says, laughing. “I actually like that nickname.”

“But your father doesn’t approve,” I say.

“Exactly. He wants someone with a family, with children. Someone he feels is more respectable, even though I’m the right man to take over the crown.”

I nod but don’t say anything. The complexities of this are way over my head and I don’t want to get involved. If he needs a sounding board to complain to, I can be that person. It’s not so bad listening to him talk, to be honest. I love his accent. And I love the mouth that his words are coming out of. He’s very pleasant to look at, to say the least.

“So now I have a choice. I can continue living as I always have, or I can change and earn what’s rightfully mine. What would you do, if you were me?” he asks.

I hesitate. “I couldn’t imagine,” I admit. “It’s a hard choice.”

“Yes, it is,” he says. “But I think I have a solution. And you play a pretty big part in it.”

I stare at him, a little taken off guard. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“I have a proposal for you. Think of it as a business arrangement.”

I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and yet my heart starts hammering quickly. “What do you mean?”

“I want to marry you, Hazel,” he says. “If you agree to become my wife and to have my child, I will pay you half a million dollars every year for the rest of your life. And I will make sure your child is raised and taken care of.”

I stare at him for a second before bursting out laughing. “Are you insane?” I ask him.

He grins at me. “Maybe. But this arrangement isn’t without precedent in my country, you see.”

“This is insane. You want to marry me and knock me up?”

“Pretty much, yes,” he says, not backing down.

I laugh again, but the thought of actually being married to him seems not that horrible. I mean, I’d be a princess, after all. And I can’t help but imagine what it would be like having the prince try and get me pregnant. I’m sure we’d do it the old fashioned way, his hard body against mine, his thick royal scepter deep between my legs…

“No way,” I say to him. “That’s too insane.” I put my glass down and turn away.

“Wait,” he says. “Hear me out. You can live wherever you want, do whatever you want. This will give you financial freedom. All you have to do is come back to Polovia twice a year for ceremonial occasions. You can live here as well, if you want, and you can be as active in this child’s life as you choose.”

I back away from him, heading toward the door. “No way,” I say again.

“Half a million per year,” he says, coming toward me. “It’s freedom, Hazel. I’m offering you freedom. All you have to do is marry me and let me get you pregnant.”

“I’ll be a prisoner,” I say to him. “I don’t even know you.”

“Not a prisoner. You’ll be a princess. And maybe one day, a queen.”

I hit my back smack into the door of his room. “I can’t,” I repeat, mind reeling.

“You can and you will,” he says, smiling a maddening, arrogant smile. “I suspect you’d do it for free, if I really wanted to. Getting you pregnant will be the highlight of your trip to Europe, I can guarantee it.”

“You’re crazy. You don’t know me. I’m not going to just become some… some… baby-maker for you.” I shake my head wildly. “I have to go.”

“Go ahead, leave,” he says. “But think about this offer. I can take care of you for the rest of your life, and you’ll be free to do as you choose. Marry again for all I care, it won’t matter. As long as you give me a baby and some legitimacy, you can do as you please.”

I stare at him, at his handsome face, and I don’t know what to do. This plan is absolutely crazy, definitely the most insane thing I’ve ever heard, and yet I still haven’t left yet. I can’t help myself. I keep picturing him pressed against me, kissing me deeply, calling me princess, fucking me, getting me pregnant. I want to feel every inch of him thrusting inside of me as his strong arms wrap around my body and pull me tight against him. I want to feel alive and good as he takes me, and I know he can do it.

But I don’t know him. I don’t know this country. I’m a foreigner, a stranger, and this is all too much.

“I have to go,” I say softly, turning around.

“Think about it,” he says. “The offer stands, my princess.”

A thrill runs down my spine. I open the door and leave as fast as I can.