Chapter 3
Stazzi raised her chin. “I’m engaged to be married.”
His mouth tightened, that piercing gaze hardening before shifting to the fingers tightly curled about her whisky glass. “You aren’t wearing a ring.”
“Well… No.” Damn this man’s powers of observation. “What I meant to say was I’m about to become engaged to be married. Tonight, in fact. As soon as I leave here.” She couldn’t seem to stop babbling, her words tumbling defensively over each other.
Maybe the prince was right and she did need a swig of his fifty-year-old single-malt whisky?
She took a huge swallow, almost choking as the alcohol hit the back of her throat before warming, burning, as it traveled down to her stomach. Her empty stomach. Another thing the prince had been right about; Stazzi hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Or lunch either, for that matter. She had been too apprehensive all day, in regard to his expected arrival, and what he might say to Daniel Meyers about her, to be able to eat.
That predatory gaze remained fixed on her. “The obvious way to prevent that from happening, would appear to be not to allow you to leave here this evening.”
Stazzi placed the glass of whisky carefully down on the coffee table, her mouth and throat feeling as if they were on fire. “I’m flattered by your interest, of course—”
“Then stay.”
Her frown was pained. “Look, I realize you’re absolute ruler of your own island, but things have moved along here in England. Nowadays we take a more democratic point of view. A less…feudal approach.”
Dark brows rose. “Feudal?”
“Yes. You know that thing they used to have centuries ago.”
“Thing?”
“Droit du seigneur, or whatever it was called.”
Alexandre didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed at this young woman’s even more outrageous comment. “How long have you been employed at the Meyers Hotel?”
Blue eyes narrowed. “If that’s another threat—”
“It isn’t.”
“Oh. Well.” Her brows lowered as she gave the question some thought. “About four years. I’ve been manager of the penthouse floor for the past year.”
“Successfully?”
“Well, of course success— Sorry.” She grimaced at her obvious aggression.
Alexandre chuckled. Not only beautiful, but funny too. And so outspoken.
Except Anastazia still wasn’t saying what he wanted to hear.
He knew he was coming on too strong, that she was wary of the depth of his interest. It was just difficult, now that he was actually here and in her company, to behave any other way. He had wanted this woman sexually from the moment he first saw her photograph. Now he wanted to know her too. What she liked and disliked. How she spent her time away from work. When she’s going to agree to share my bed.
She drew in a deep breath before speaking. “The two of us have obviously got off to a bad start, Your Highness. Completely my fault, I accept that. I made a serious error earlier today, and I deserve to be punished for it.”
“You believe my…interest in you to be a punishment?”
“I believe you’re enjoying discomforting me, yes.”
“My interest in you causes you discomfort?” he persisted.
Her cheeks flushed. “Could we just move on? Or you could just demand that Daniel dismiss me? Because I’m really not enjoying being toyed with in this way.”
Alexandre made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs. “I have no intention of demanding Daniel Meyers dismiss you.”
Some of the tension visibly eased from her shoulders. “I really am sorry about the email today. I was distracted, and a little…annoyed at having my plans changed for this evening. I realize that’s no excuse for having insulted you,” she added hastily. “But I truly hope that won’t affect your enjoyment of your stay at the Meyers Hotel.”
“Very nicely and professionally said,” Alexandre drawled. “Now could we get back to the subject of the two of us having dinner together?”
“Are you deaf or just—” She broke off with a wince as she realized she was about to be rude to him again.
Her outspokenness really was refreshing. Alexandre hadn’t had this much fun in…well, almost two years, to be exact.
He had been in shock and grieving for his father’s early demise during those first months of ruling Androcco. Gerard had been a great help, of course, as his father had helped Alexandre’s father before him.
But by the time Alexandre came out of his fog of grief he found himself changed, in both appearance and demeanor. He also felt very much alone, apart from the company of the stalwart Gerard.
The friends Alexandre had partied with in the past now all seemed shallow and without purpose. The women who pursued him were more interested in becoming the Princess of Androcco, and in the wealth and privilege that involved, rather than loving and helping him with the burden of actually ruling the island.
He couldn’t remember when he had last fucked a woman, let alone spent any time alone with one.
Until now.
He was alone with Anastazia Carmichael, and she was proving to be even more of a diversion than he had imagined she might be. A photograph had been enough to tell Alexandre he wanted her sexually, but the fact she wasn’t afraid or in awe of him, and the lack of censorship in her remarks when in his company, was proving highly entertaining. The droit du seigneur remark had been priceless.
Considering the lack of a woman in his bed these past two years, the idea currently had its merits too.
Except Anastazia Carmichael wasn’t one of his subjects, and she happened to be the one woman he wanted. Even more so since meeting her.
Her imminent engagement was a complication Alexandre hadn’t foreseen. Not insurmountable, but an irritation nonetheless. The fact that it was imminent and not yet fact meant he certainly wasn’t above using his title, and his position as a guest in the hotel, as leverage to attaining his goal. Which was Anastazia Carmichael. Naked. In his bed.
The thought alone was enough to cause his already engorged cock to heat and throb. “As you know the room service menu, perhaps you would care to order dinner for both of us?” he suggested. “Anything but shellfish. I have an allergic reaction to it. But then you probably knew that…?” he added ruefully, knowing that Gerard would have done his job as usual, and informed the hotel of his allergy.
“I’ve made a note of it, and informed the hotel kitchen staff, yes.”
He nodded. “Otherwise, I eat and enjoy all foods.”
Stazzi decided this arrogant prince wasn’t deaf but instead had selective hearing. She had turned down his dinner invitation twice now, and yet still he persisted— He hadn’t made it an invitation this time, but a statement, Stazzi realized as she once again began to chew on her bottom lip.
“Do you do that a lot?”
Stazzi gave a start at the realization Prince Alexandre had not only risen to his feet while she had been lost in thought, but he now stood just inches in front of her, that dark green gaze fixed intently on her mouth as her teeth worried her bottom lip.
She stopped chewing as she became aware of the sudden thickening of the air around them. Of their total awareness of each other.
This close to him, Stazzi could smell the insidious aroma of his aftershave: sandalwood, lemon, and spice, and a hot maleness she knew had to be completely him. The same invasive heat she could feel coursing through her own body, causing her nipples to ache and that uncomfortable dampness between her thighs.
She was becoming aroused just by the proximity of Prince Alexandre of Androcco!
The telling bulge in the front of his tailored trousers told her he was as aroused by her.
This was overwhelmingly real, Stazzi realized as she felt herself sway toward him.
Immediate.
Intense.
Irresistible.
And totally disloyal to Will and our future together.
A reminder that flew totally out of her head as she felt the warmth of Alexandre’s breath against her cheek before his lips softly claimed hers.
He didn’t touch her in any other way. Just those chiseled and sensuous lips, soft at first, and then harder, becoming more demanding, as his tongue swept along the crease of her lips, asking her permission before entering.
She had to stop this. Needed to stop this—
Stazzi gave a groan, her lips parting of their own volition as that tongue breached and then laid siege to her mouth, claiming everywhere it licked and touched.
The press of his cock through the thin material of his tailored trousers was causing the juices to flow between her thighs, in readiness for the claiming thrust of that heavy cock—
Stazzi broke the kiss. “Alexandre…?”
“I want you so much.” Alexandre cupped her cheek with his hand as he lifted her face back up to his with the obvious intention of kissing her again.
She put her hands against his chest, meaning to push him away, only to have her betraying fingers linger and enjoy that heat, along with the play of hard muscles beneath the silk of his shirt.
“I would never hurt you, Anastazia.”
She looked up at him in bewilderment, knowing this was wrong, he was wrong, and yet, for the moment, she couldn’t remember why, felt totally bedazzled by the man and the intensity of the sexual arousal he was creating inside her.
“I very much want to make love to you, Anastazia.” His lips moved against the warmth of her cheek before those even white teeth nipped gently against her earlobe, his breath a caress against her skin. “To take you to bed and—”
“I said no!” Sense—what little she had left—reasserted itself, reminding Stazzi of exactly why this shouldn’t be happening.
Who she was.
A woman on the brink of an engagement and marriage.
Who he was.
A ruling prince who could have any woman he wanted.
Except her.
He couldn’t have her, because she was already taken.
And if I wasn’t?
She couldn’t—daren’t, even go there. Because her response to this man was so unexpected. Worrying. Confusing, when she knew it was only her loyalty to Will and their future together that was holding her back from succumbing completely to Alexandre’s seduction.
A man she barely knew.
A man who was only playing with her.
A prince who was used to demanding what he wanted and expecting it to be obeyed.
A prince who was totally out of her league.
“I’m a man first and foremost.” Alexandre spoke as if he knew her thoughts.
Or as if she had spoken those thoughts out loud?
All of them? Or just that last part about him being a prince?
Not that it mattered. There was no way Alexandre could help but be aware of her response to him. The air around them had grown even thicker and become spiced with the aroma of the arousal dampening her panties. As insidious as the heat of Alexandre’s body as it curled about her senses.
She would deal with the guilt of that arousal later. Right now, she had to put distance between herself and the man creating it. “A man I don’t know.” She stepped back and was at last able to draw a deep breath into her starved lungs. “A man I don’t want to know,” she added determinedly.
“Another lie,” Alexandre murmured regretfully. “You may lie all you want to yourself and the man you are contemplating marrying, but don’t attempt to lie to me. I know you, Anastazia—”
“Like hell you do!” She glared her anger at him, cheeks burning. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.” Her hands were clenched at her sides. “We’ve just met, you’re a VIP guest in the hotel I work at, and because of that I will be as polite and helpful to you as I would be to any other guest. But,” she continued firmly as he would have spoken, “don’t ever attempt to repeat what happened just now.”
“Or?”
Her mouth firmed at the amusement she could see in the depths of those deep green eyes. The bloody man was laughing at her again. Arrogant bastard! “Or I’ll be forced to report your behavior to Daniel Meyers.”
“What do you expect his reaction to be?” the prince drawled.
Stazzi drew in a deep breath at his arrogant confidence. “Daniel has an unwritten rule. The staff don’t fraternize with any of the guests, but equally, the guests don’t attempt to seduce any member of his staff.”
“I assure you, Adrian and Grant hold no interest for me whatsoever—”
“You think this is funny?” Her eyes were wide and accusing. “You think you can come here, trample all over everyone else’s feelings, take what you want, and then leave, because you’re a prince?”
“An arrogant pain-in-the-fucking-ass prince.”
Her lids narrowed as he once again quoted her email back at her. “You know what, I don’t give a damn whether you tell Daniel about my mistake earlier today or not. You are an arrogant pain-in-the-fucking-ass prince, I’m even more convinced of that now I’ve actually met you.”
This evening had not gone at all as Alexandre had wished it to. He had imagined meeting Anastazia, inviting her to have dinner with him, the two of them getting to know each other as they ate together, followed by a seduction. His attraction to Anastazia in her photograph had been immediate, so strong and all-consuming, it hadn’t occurred to him to question whether or not she would, or was free, to return that attraction. Except, he reminded himself again, an imminent engagement was not marriage.
And either he was sadly out of practice in the seduction of a woman he desired, or he really had become the arrogant bastard she was accusing him of being for simply having assumed the attraction would be mutual.
Except it is.
He hadn’t imagined Anastazia’s response to him just now, or her arousal.
A response and arousal she obviously regretted.
Because she was going to marry another man.
She has no right to even think of marrying another man when she responds so heatedly to me.
Maybe not, but that wasn’t for Alexandre to decide, when he had nothing but here and now to offer her.
His ministers on Androcco had recently begun to make serious noises about it being time for him to marry and produce his future heir. They had even put together a list of foreign princesses and other suitable female members of royal families around the world, and presented it to him at their last meeting, with notations as to which of them was the most suitable.
Anastazia Carmichael’s name would never appear on such a list.
Alexandre may have had his wild years, the parties, the women in his bed, but underneath all that, he had always known what his duty was as heir to his father, to Androcco. His future wife would be chosen carefully, the marriage for political reasons, or otherwise beneficial to Androcco in some way, as had been his parents’ marriage, and his grandparents before them. Love was for a mistress, not a wife.
He doubted someone as fiercely independent and outspoken as Anastazia would ever agree to take such a subservient role to his official wife.
Nor would he ever insult her by suggesting she did.
He straightened. “You’re right, my behavior this evening has been unacceptable. I apologize.”
She blinked. “You do?”
He gave the ghost of a smile. “I do.”
She stared up at him uncertainly for several long seconds, obviously unsure as to whether or not he was mocking her. “Good, then.” She finally nodded acceptance of his apology, her gaze no longer meeting his. “Adrian will be on duty tonight. If you need anything, just ring extension one on the hotel telephone. Grant will take over at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“And you?”
“I will be back on duty at eight thirty in the morning.”
Alexandre’s mouth tightened. “An engaged woman.”
Her chin rose defensively. “Yes.”
“Your fiancé is a lucky man.”
She gave him another suspicious glance before answering. “I think so, yes. I wish you a good night, Your Highness.”
“Anastazia,” he returned gruffly.
Stazzi turned sharply on her heel and marched across the room, anxious to get away now. Desperate to try to get her thoughts in order. To rationalize her response to His Highness Prince Alexandre Sylvain Claude St Sebastien.
But something drew on her, pulled inside her, daring her to glance back at him when she reached the doorway. Half of her expected him to be watching her departure; the other half hoped he wasn’t.
He was.
The lighting in the room was such that she couldn’t read the emotion in those glittering green eyes, but she saw something else. Something unexpected.
A man alone.
Not just alone, but lonely?
For the first time, it occurred to her that being the absolute ruler of his own island couldn’t be all champagne and roses. Alexandre’s parents were both dead, and he had no siblings. Gerard St Sebastien was the only close family he had left. And wasn’t he just a barrel of laughs!
There was no one, at the end of a long day, for Alexandre to just sit down and talk with, eat a companionable dinner with, go to bed with.
Oh, come on, Prince Alexandre of Androcco isn’t alone or lonely. No doubt once I’ve gone, he’ll get out his little black book and give one of the women in it a call and invite her to come and spend the night with him.
Whereas Stazzi desperately needed to leave here, to get some perspective back into her life.
And forget all about princes from sun-warmed Mediterranean islands who said they wanted her…