Jessica is stunning in the red gown, and when she locks her arms around my neck and presses her mouth against mine, it’s all I can do not to slam her down on the bed, strip off that sexy dress, and have my way with her for the rest of the evening. Who cares about dinner plans?

But I resist. I realized after leaving my father and brother yesterday that I have two pressing goals that need to be tended to immediately.

First, I need to show Jessica the very best of everything that Saintland has to offer. One could argue that I do that each time we’re in bed together, but there is more to our country than my glorious princehood.

Equally important is demonstrating to my asshole father and dickhead brother that Jessica is not some mail-order date or rent-by-the-hour companion. I am committed to exploring a long-term relationship with her. The last thing I’m going to do is either stay away from her or send her away.

That’s assuming I’m even capable of sending her anywhere that isn’t right by my side, the voice in my head observes.

She didn’t answer when I knocked at the door. Claire reported to me earlier that Jessica only woke up when she’d been knocking for several minutes, so she must have been exhausted from traveling.

That was cold comfort. It was painful walking back to the town car in the chill evening air, my cock rock-hard anticipating all the things I had planned to do to her gorgeous body.

So now, even though I want to lock the door behind me right now and make her come until she’s incoherent with pleasure, I instead escort her down to the lobby and usher her into an even finer car from the royal fleet. It’s a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, and even Nate can’t hide the joy he takes in driving it.

I’m perplexed. Jessica still looks mildly disappointed.

The tension is thick as we ride through the streets of Sainthall, and it doesn’t help that Jessica, with a wicked grin, slides her hand over the front of my pants, cupping my visible bulge before she gives my cock a squeeze. She keeps her head turned toward the window.

“Oh, what’s that?” she says innocently, as she strokes me through my pants, pointing with her other hand toward an art gallery with an interesting facade.

“An art gallery,” I say, my voice hoarse, as I clear my throat.

Nate intuitively knows to keep his eyes facing forward on the road the entire drive.

We pull up a few minutes later in front of the Diamond Circle, without a doubt the highest-caliber dining establishment in all of Saintland and many of the surrounding European nations. Ultra-wealthy members of high society come from all over the continent to eat here.

I precede Jessica out of the car; she steps out gracefully, only looking a little surprised when cameras start flashing.

I slip her hand into my elbow and pat it, leaning down to speak softly in her ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you for the press on the way over—it slipped my mind.”

She beams up at me, her cheeks a little flushed, and I know her panties must be soaked already. “I can’t imagine how you could have forgotten.” Then, because she continually finds ways to surprise me, she turns and gives the photographers standing in a group next to the red carpet runner leading into the building a little wave. They go wild, whistling and calling out questions, which she ignores.

Once we’re inside, being led to our table by a uniformed waiter, I say in a low voice, “So you’ve encountered the press before?”

“I should have mentioned it,” she says casually. “Our mutual friend Christian has been known to attract some attention from time to time.”

A woman who can handle media attention with grace. The more I learn about Jessica, the more perfect she seems.

As we make our way through the restaurant to the best table in the house, I pause every few steps to nod in greeting to one citizen or another. As we move through the tables, I notice there’s a wavelike hitch in the conversation. The citizens of Saintland want to remain casual in my presence, but they’re a little starstruck, too—likely by Jessica and not me.

The waiters begin their dance, bringing sparkling glasses of wine and plate after plate of delicacies, and Jessica delights in it all. It doesn’t take long for us to run out of small talk, but there’s something I’m dying to know before this budding relationship goes any further.

“Jessica,” I say, and she finishes a bite of scallop and looks up at me, her eyes glittering with happiness in the candlelight.

“Yes, Prince Alexander?” She giggles a little after she says it, and I can’t blame her. It must seem so strange to an American to have slept with a member of royalty.

“What made you reconsider?”

“Reconsider what?”

“Your no-strings policy.”

She puts down her fork, her face turning serious, and then she glances around to make sure no one is within earshot. After taking a deep breath, she speaks. “That…that’s a rule I set for myself after a bad experience I had with a guy.”

I notice the worried reaction in her eyes, and I reach for her hand, covering it with mine. “You don’t have to—.”

“No. No, we’ve come all this way—.” She looks to the side and bites at the inside of her cheek. After a moment she looks me straight in the eye. “I was in a relationship for two years with a man named Michael. He was…he wasn’t a good man, and he had a lot of anger issues. He was volatile and vindictive and awful, and I stayed with him because I was afraid of starting over. I don’t know why. Shit, I— She censors herself, glancing around at the dining room. “I’ve always made a point of being independent. The moment I feel something’s wrong in my life, I make a plan to change it. But with him…” Her voice trails off, and she looks down at her plate again. I notice she is trying not to let me see her tremble. “He terrified me, but he also made it seem like leaving him would be a fatal mistake.”

I remain silent, but it’s hard to keep my lips pressed together, to keep the words in my mouth. My chest is filled with rage, thinking of this man, thinking of what he must have done to frighten a tigress like Jessica.

She blows a breath out through her perfect lips and her eyes are sad. “After I finally got up the courage to leave, I swore to myself that I’d never go on a second date with a man who didn’t seem a hundred percent worthy of my time. Since then, nobody has cleared the bar. Until you.”

I can’t help smiling when I hear that.

“I don’t know how—how to say this more plainly, Alec,” she says, her voice soft, her eyes locked on mine. “I’m going out on a limb with this situation. I’m taking a big risk by being here with you. But I feel, deep down, like there’s something between us that’s going to make the gamble worth it.”

The conversation has turned heavy, turned deep, yet it doesn’t make me want to turn and run in the other direction. It makes me want to hold Jessica tightly in my arms and kiss her until every terrible memory is wiped away with passion.

Instead, I keep it simple. “I feel that, too.”

Her face breaks into a wide, dazzling smile, and she squeezes my hand. “Well, thank God,” she says with a laugh. “That would have been so unbelievably awkward if all you wanted were a few all-night sex-fests.”

It’s so incongruous—the opulent setting, her perfectly coiffed hair, her flawless makeup, her sexy gown, her stunning smile—that I burst into laughter, causing heads to turn to look at us.

That’s the moment when I know: this is the start of something very, very real, pure and true.

I can’t let my father destroy it.