“Are you sure this is all you want to do?” Arne asked a couple hours later, as he and Emma sat on one of her hotel room’s sofas, eating sushi and watching tv. “Because if it is,” Arne went on, “I can change the channel to something in English.”

Emma laughed. They’d switched on the Aegirian evening news, which was broadcast in Aegirian. For the past half hour, she’d watched attractive, blond reporters chatter away in what sounded like soothing nonsense words about the island kingdom’s comings and goings.

“I like it,” she said, finishing off the last piece of her spicy salmon roll. “Your language has a poetic quality to it.”

“You’re the first person I’ve ever heard say that,” Arne chuckled. He’d already finished eating and leaned back against the sofa’s cushy back, stretching his arm toward Emma.

“No, really. It’s musical.”

“Thanks. I arranged that myself,” he joked. “At least we don’t speak Danish. Of all the Scandinavian languages, that’s the one that sounds most like they speak with their mouths full of marbles.”

Emma giggled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “And at least it’s not Finnish, right? I’ve heard that’s one of the hardest languages to learn.”

“I struggled with it in school.” Arne nodded.

“You mean, you speak Finnish?” Emma blinked.

“I speak seven and a half languages.”

Emma’s eyes popped wide. “Seven…and a half? What’s that about?”

“I speak Aegirian, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, Finnish, English, German, and enough French to order dinner in Paris.”

“Wow.” She had a hard time catching her breath. Arne was the complete package—gorgeous, intelligent, well-traveled, and a prince. She could hardly believe she was sitting next to him, the remnants of a sushi dinner spread across the coffee table in front of them. Years ago, she’d thought that success in the music industry was the star she was shooting for and the key to fulfilling all of her dreams, but Prince Arne of Aegiria had filled her with new dreams in a matter of days. And he showed her everything she’d been missing on the lonely pinnacle of success. She missed love. She missed connection.

The newscaster finished up her story, and to Emma’s surprise, Fuchsia’s picture appeared in the box above her shoulder. The warm, fluttery feeing in Emma’s gut curled into a tight, nervous ball as she listened to the newscaster say something that sounded serious. Not only that, Arne’s brow furrowed.

“Okay, suddenly I wish I did speak Aegirian,” she said.

“It’s nothing,” Arne said, picking up the remote and clicking off the tv. “Just another story with doubts about hiring a flashy American rock star for such an important concert, doubts about the purpose of the concert, doubts about what the royal family is up to….” He let the sentence hang as if there were more doubts, then sighed.

Emma was willing to let his slight dig at Fuchsia go. “I was under the impression your people love you.”

“They do,” he began slowly, “but something’s been in the air lately. None of us know how the announcement of my mother’s wedding plans is going to be received.”

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough.” Emma stood, gathering the plates and chopsticks they’d used for dinner and carrying them to the kitchen.

Arne stood and followed her with the glasses. “I would give anything to push the concert off indefinitely.”

Emma put the dishes in the sink and turned to him, her brow shooting up. “Why? You’ve worked so hard for this.”

He set the glasses on the counter, then faced her with a sad, yet also sultry, look. “I would do anything to delay the concert because I know that when it’s over and when Fuchsia leaves, you leave with her.”

His words shot straight to her heart, straight to her core, tying both in knots. She opened her mouth to say that she felt the same way, that she never wanted to leave, that she’d give anything to stay, but before a single word could escape her lips, his arms were around her and his lips were pressed to hers.

She sighed with pleasure and longing as he kissed her. He teased her bottom lip with his teeth, brushed his tongue against hers, and explored the sparks between them to the fullest. Emma’s insides turned molten, and she pressed her hips against his. He was already noticeably aroused, which turned the sparks to full-on flames.

He leaned back with a scintillating sigh. “Mmm. That was the best sushi ever.”

She burst into a laugh before she could stop herself. “Not exactly the best date food.”

“Any food is good date food if the date’s with you,” he said, then kissed her again.

Her head spun and her body pulsed with longing. Every fiber of her being wanted him. But through the haze of passion—a haze that was intensifying at lightning speed as his hands spread across her sides, inching up toward her breasts—her mind shouted at her to slam on the breaks.

“Arne,” she said, forcing herself to lean back enough to look into his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, both as a question and an affirmation of the lust swirling between them.

“There’s something I have to tell you before we do this.” Breathing was hard, let alone getting words out, but it was vital that she told Arne the truth. He needed to know who he was getting hot and heavy with.

“You can tell me anything,” he said, his voice low and seductive, as he backed her slowly toward the door to the bedroom. “You can tell me I’m a fool for starting something with someone who’s about to leave. You can tell me a prince shouldn’t be with the woman he chooses to be with. You can tell me we’re doomed before we start, but I’m not going to listen to any of it.”

“No?” Her voice shook, and her will to confess was shattering.

“I’ve been telling myself all of those things for days now, and it’s no use.” He picked her up, and Emma wrapped her legs around him instinctively. That allowed him to pick up his pace as he carried her to the bedroom. He shut the door with his foot once they were in, then walked to lay her across the bed, covering her with his body. “I love you, Emma.” She caught her breath. “I know it’s impossible, but I believe in making the impossible very, very possible.”

She should have protested. She should have said anything, but all Emma could do was make a sound of need and acceptance deep in her throat as Arne kissed her deeply. His mouth felt perfect over hers, and she explored it with all the passion she’d been keeping in reserve for years.

His hands tugged at the hem of her t-shit, pulling it up and sliding across her stomach. His touch on her bare skin sent ripples of longing straight to her center. She could feel the heat and tension building inside of her and ached to be filled by him. He brushed a light kiss across her lips, then her cheek and neck. And, heaven help her, she abandoned all plans to confess and pulled at his shirt instead.

It took seconds for them to shed their clothes. Somehow they managed it while tangled and horizontal on the bed. Emma had never been so glad to strip down to nothing, not even after a night in the most cumbersome Fuchsia costume. It felt so amazing to slide her skin against Arne’s that sounds worthy of the most questionable celebrity videos escaped from her. They didn’t stop as Arne stroked his hands along her sides then cupped one breast. He brought his mouth to her nipple and proceeded to lick and suck it into a hard point. The ache of pleasure shot straight to her core, causing her to wriggle against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he growled, making his way to her other breast. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get enough of you.”

“I want you, Arne,” she sighed. “So much. In every way.”

He answered with a rumbling sound of pleasure that vibrated through her. She wasn’t exactly a spring daisy and definitely not a virgin, but the way he touched her in all the right places, the way he kissed her and tasted her skin, felt new and vibrant in every way. She felt like she was in very real danger of coming at any second.

The sensation only intensified as he kissed his way across her stomach and lower as she fought not to arch off the bed. Her legs were spread and she stretched her arms over her head, feeling utterly exposed to him and at his mercy.

But just before he reached exactly where she wanted him to be, he rocked back, panting. He licked his lips, but instead of forming words, he held up one finger. Emma watched, splayed in a pose worthy of a centerfold, as he leapt off the bed and shifted through his clothes. He didn’t find what he was looking for, then moved to throw open the drawer of the bedside table.

“Thank God,” he breathed as he pulled a strip of black-packaged condoms from the drawer. “Thank God for Aegirian ingenuity.”

Emma laughed, but that only lasted until he ripped open one of the packages with his teeth and took out the condom to roll onto his erection. And what an erection! He was perfect in every way. His hips were narrow and the lines of the muscles on his abdomen led straight to a package worthy of a Greek statue, or rather, a Norse god. He was long and thick and so ready that she broke out in a sweat of anticipation.

He started back to the bed, but froze as his eyes raked her body. Every inch of her skin tingled, and although the last shred of modesty in her whispered that she should close her legs like a lady, the way he looked at her made her wanton.

He let out a ragged breath as he rejoined her on the bed. “I want to make this good, to make it last all night and be hot, but I don’t think I can hold on for another second. You’re amazing, and I just want to be in you.”

She reached for him, pulling him into the embrace of her arms and legs. “We’ve got all night and several more condoms,” she said, laughing in spite of herself.

He answered by thrusting inside of her. The surprise of the move and the way he stretched and filled her turned her laugh into a loud moan of pleasure. He echoed it with a cry of his own and proceeded to rock and thrust into her in a fast, hard rhythm. It was so primal and so amazing that the tension that had held her at the very edge of pleasure almost since they’d started exploded into an orgasm so powerful that it left her dizzy and throbbing and red hot.

Arne didn’t last much longer. The abandon with which he made love to her peaked while she was still in the middle of orgasm, and he came with a rough cry. His whole body tensed, then relaxed. He sank to her side, and the two of them lay panting and tangled.

“I’m not going to be able to get enough of you,” he sighed, stroking her face and brushing his fingers through her hair.

“I’m never going to get enough of you either,” she sighed. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to go on without him.

Emma wasn’t kidding when she said they had all night. Arne hadn’t realized he had that kind of endurance in him. He made up for the speed of his first performance by slowing things down and giving everything he had to Emma until the small hours of the morning. He’d never enjoyed making love with a woman so much. It was more than just physical pleasure. He felt a closeness to Emma that he’d only read about and hadn’t quite believed could really exist.

By the time they’d used up the strip of condoms in the drawer, they were both so exhausted that they more or less passed out in each other’s arms. And Arne was perfectly fine with that.

He awoke as the morning sun streamed through the windows, his mind already whirling with all the ways he could convince Emma to quit her job and stay in Aegiria with him. There had to be a way. He’d give her anything she wanted. All he knew was that after the fire that had consumed them the night before, he couldn’t just let her go.

That thought was at the forefront of his mind as Emma drew in a long, waking breath and stretched against him. Her bleary eyes opened, and she smiled.

“Good morning,” he greeted her with a smile of his own.

“Good morning to you.”

He loved how gravely she sounded. He loved how disheveled she looked. He’d been the cause of all of that, and it filled him with a sense of pride. If he could leave her looking so thoroughly satisfied, he could do anything.

“How about we—”

He had just pulled her into his arms and started making a suggestion when a thump and voices from the other part of the suite shook him. Those voices materialized into words.

“—can’t go in there,” a woman said.

“I can go wherever the hell I want,” a man’s voice answered.

Heavy footsteps stomped up to the bedroom door, giving Arne just enough time to shelter Emma in his arms before the door crashed open. Hoss, Fuchsia’s manager, stood in the doorway with fury in his eyes.

“These damn, backwoods nobodies are screwing with our concert again,” he barked. His expression showed shock at finding Arne in bed with Emma for only a fraction of a second before he marched a few steps more into the room. “You need to do something about it,” he pointed at Arne as though whatever had happened was his fault. “And you,” he went on, pointing to Emma, “need to get your sparkly ass out of bed and put your costume on. The damn concert is tonight, and if we can’t go on like we’re supposed to, I’m gonna need your ass singing in the streets and signing autographs.”

The shock and indignation that hit Arne over the way Hoss was yelling at Emma instantly fractured into another, darker kind of surprise.

“Hoss, you can’t just barge in here when I’m in bed.” Emma gathered the sheets around her chest and sat up. “You just can’t.”

“I can do whatever I want, sweetheart,” Hoss growled. “I created you, and I can destroy you just as fast. Now get up and get to work.”

“What exactly is the problem at the arena?” Emma asked, scooting to the side of the bed.

“Vandalism,” Hoss said, glaring. “Our set pieces are ruined. And all of your Fuchsia costumes have been torn to shreds.”

Arne was halfway out of the bed when he froze. A chill shot down his back. All of her Fuchsia costumes? He twisted, studying Emma with wide eyes.

She shot him the guiltiest look he’d ever seen before turning to Hoss. “Get out and let me put some clothes on,” she said. “Please.”

Hoss pointed at her. “We’re not done with this.” He sent a sharp look to Arne before stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The silence that followed was almost as deafening as Hoss’s shouts. Emma let the sheets drop as she got all the way out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Arne stood, unsure whether to dress first or deal with the growing beast of anger bubbling inside of him. In the end, he ignored clothes and walked to the open bathroom door as Emma climbed into the shower.

“You’re Fuchsia,” he said, unsure if it was a question or a demand of some sort.

“Yes,” she answered as she slapped soap over her body, washing in record time.

“You’re Fuchsia,” he repeated, his anger starting to come through.

“Yes,” she answered, weaker this time. “I tried to tell you.”

“When did you try to tell me?” he nearly shouted.

“Just about every time I saw you, including while we were sitting at that bar in Heathrow.” She rinsed and turned off the water before stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel.

Arne watched her, so full of betrayal that he barely noticed the beads of water as they dropped from her naked body. “You could have told me. You could have trusted me with something like this instead of—”

“No, I couldn’t,” she said, rubbing her body and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “I have a contract. I’m not allowed to tell anyone.”

“You could have told me,” he argued as she tossed her towel aside and edged past him, back into the bedroom.

“And what would that have accomplished?” she asked. There was hurt in her voice as she marched to the bureau and yanked the top drawer open. She took out underwear and started to dress.

“I would have known,” he said, boiling with anger that didn’t seem to have anything to latch onto. He hated betrayal, hated being kept out of the loop and made a fool of, but the voice in the back of his mind whispered to find out more about her contract before truly getting angry. “I could have helped you.”

“You didn’t know who I was,” she snapped, standing straighter once her bra and panties were on and turning to him. “I liked that. I liked that you wanted me for myself, for Emma. Do you know how long it’s been since someone wanted Emma?”

“I don’t like being lied to,” he said, mostly because yes, he did know what it was like to be adored for what you were instead of who.

“It wasn’t a lie,” she said, more defeated than before, heading to the closet.

“It feels like a lie to me.” He bent over and started scooping up his clothes from the night before and dressing. “You’ve probably been laughing at me for being gullible and blind this whole time.”

“No!” She faced him as she took jeans and a shirt out of the closet. “I swear to you, I wasn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” He jerked his jeans up as he straightened.

“I have a contract.”

“That says what? That you can’t tell the public who you really are, right? Is that all I am to you? The public?”

“I care about you,” she said, raising her voice. But there were also tears in her eyes. “Really, Arne, I do.”

He wanted to reply, but his head and his heart were at war, and he couldn’t figure out where he stood. Part of him wanted to believe her and to understand. A bigger part of him felt used and betrayed. Thoughts kept coming into his head, ugly thoughts, thoughts he couldn’t easily back away from. Had she let the ruse go on so long because she wanted to screw a prince? She wouldn’t have been the first women he’d dated who had that as their goal. Fuchsia was even more famous than he was, and women like that had a tendency to seek out conquests instead of relationships. But Emma hadn’t seemed like that type. She’d seemed so genuine.

Right up until she’d lied by omission. Hell, he’d introduced her to his family. Not only would they never let him hear the end of it, her dishonesty toward him felt like an offense against them as well as him.

“I don’t know what to say right now.” He finished getting dressed, turning away from her in the hopes it would ease his troubled heart. “I just want to figure out what’s going on with the concert so I can do my duty to my family and to my country.”

“Arne, I’m sorry about all of this.” Emma finished with her clothes and walked around the edge of the bed to where he was standing. “This is all just a misunderstanding. It’s all bad timing. I tried to tell you last night.”

She was right. She’d wanted to say something before things heated up, but he’d been so hot and bothered that he rushed her. Guilt added to the churning stew of anger and frustration ripping his gut to shreds.

“I don’t have time to deal with this right now,” he said with a sigh. “I want to believe everything you’re saying is true. I want things to go back to the way they were an hour ago. But I’m not in the kind of position where I can afford lies and scandal. I have a responsibility to my family and my country, and right now, they’re my only priority.” He started toward the door.

“But can we talk about this later?” She rushed after him. “We need to sort this out. We can’t let things end like this.”

The suggestion that anything was ending cut straight through Arne. He was pissed off to high heaven, but the thought that anything was over shook him to his core.

“Let me sort the concert out first,” he said, opening the door. “We’ll deal with the rest after that. But again, I hate being lied to.”

“It wasn’t—” she started, but snapped her mouth shut. Her shoulders dropped as she let out a defeated breath. “All right. Let’s deal with the concert first. But, Arne….” She followed him into the main part of the suite, where Hoss, Tracy, another woman, and three men that looked like bodyguards stood. They all gaped at him, instantly guessing what had gone on the night before. “Please don’t let this go without a fight.”

Arne eyed their audience as he turned to her, at a complete loss for words. He was saved when his cell phone—which had spent the night in the back pocket of his jeans on the floor—rang. He pulled it out and saw that Sven was calling. The trouble at the arena must have been real.

“We’ve got too many fights today,” he said with a sigh, dragging himself away from her. He answered the call as he headed for the door. “Yeah, Sven. I hear there’s trouble at the arena?”

There was trouble all over, and he didn’t have the first idea how to manage any of it.