I’m not sure when, I’m not sure how, but I’ve managed to tumble down Alice’s rabbit hole. Suddenly the whole world is upside down and inside out.

Madness is the only possible reason why the freaking Prince of Moravia wants to marry me. For all I know, that’s the case. They might call him the Mad Prince…

After all, there are three things Princes rarely do: marry commoners, marry girls who aren’t native citizens, and last but most definitely not least – marry chicks who spend their whole day surrounded by antiques.

And if Lucas was the one prince in the world who wanted to buck the standards and wed a non-native, common as mud antiques consultant, he’d definitely choose Tessa – a knockout even when she’s sick as a dog – over me.

“Why?” My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.

Lucas stares at me as if the answer is obvious. Perhaps it is to him. “Because I need to wed. You’re single and you’re here.”

I’ve never been the kind of girl who dedicated much time to thoughts of proposals, and weddings, but I’d always thought that if some guy did propose to me, it would be more romantic than, hey, you’re available so let’s get hitched.

Lucas continues to hold my hand. I wish he’d let go. Each swipe of his thumb sends delightful shivers racing up my arm, making it harder and harder to think straight.

“So,” his voice is lower than before, seductive. “Will you marry me?”

I struggle to find the words. My head demands I say no. In this day and age, no one gets married on the spur of the moment. Especially not to someone they can barely stand. But some deep dark secret part of me, a part I’ve spent my entire life ignoring me, wants this more than anything.

“What’s every lazy person’s favorite kind of exercise?” The words tumble out of my mouth.

Lucas’s eyes widen just as Tessa throws her head back and lets out a groan.

“Excuse me?” Lucas says.

I finish the joke. “Diddley-squats.”

No one over the age of ten ever knows the punchline.

“Ignore her,” Tessa tells Lucas. “Whenever she feels anxious or wants to connect with someone, she tells bad jokes. It’s a childhood habit she’s never outgrown. But let’s talk business. Are you really serious about marriage being a part of this museum gig?”

“No, he’s not,” I tell Tessa. At the precise time Lucas says he is.

A sharp rap on the door frame draws our attention. One of Lucas’s bodyguards pokes his head into the little room. I’d forgotten about them. They probably wanted to contribute to the conversation.

“Your Highness?”

Lucas stands in one long fluid motion. “Yes, Brock?”

Appreciation zings through me, warming my blood even more than the alcohol.

Damn, why does he have to move so well? I’ve always been a sucker for graceful men. Maybe because they are everything I’m not…

“The hotel manager said it’s time for Ms. Tate to take the stage.”

Oh, thank God.

I stand up so fast the world swims for a moment before coming back into focus. I slide past Lucas and hurry to the door as fast as the stupidly high heels allow. I never thought the moment would come when being summoned to the stage for a bachelorette auction would feel like my salvation.

And yet here it is.

I whisper a quick word of thanks to Brock the bodyguard and slide past him into the lobby. Tessa is hot on my heels.

She wraps a hand around my bare elbow and leans close. “You’re going to say yes, right?”

I give her my best side eye. I can’t believe she’s really asking that question. “Are you on crack? I already told him no, and I’ll keep telling him no.”

“I think he’s serious, and he doesn’t strike me as the type to give up once he decides he wants something. And right now he wants two things from you. A museum and a wedding.”

“Well, I'm not qualified to provide the museum, and I’m sure as hell not qualified to be freaking married! Besides, I have no interest in helping someone win a stupid bet.”

“What?”

I stop at the end of the bar and order another vodka martini. It’s a Hollywood drink, but that’s exactly how I feel right now – plunked into some black-and-white movie. While the bartender fills my order I quickly explain the bet to Tessa.

Instead of being horrified she looks intrigued. Almost as though she’s entertaining the idea. “Interesting. So really he only wants to marry you for a few months…”

The bartender places the elegant glass on a napkin and slides it across the sleek bar to me. I smile my appreciation.

“I refuse to marry some guy because he wants to win a stupid bet.”

“I can think of worse reasons to get married. Plus, it’d be fun.”

“Fun?”

“Sure. It’s not like this some dumb jock who lost a football bet. Lucas is a prince, after all – and a billionaire. Worst case scenario you get to play princess while building something that will last hundreds of years, and we earn enough money to keep our business going.”

I hate it when Tessa uses logic to make a point.

She’s on a roll. “And there’s always a chance of a best-case scenario, in which you and the super wealthy, super hot prince fall madly in love and live happily ever after.”

“Not going to happen. Never going to happen.”

“Anything’s possible.”

I roll my eyes. “I told you how we met, right? Not only does the guy have the world’s biggest ego, but he also has no sense of humor. Can you really imagine me being in a room with Lucas for more than five minutes before I try to kill him.”

“After watching how you reacted to a little hand holding, I’m sure you’ll jump his bones in about half that time. You might not want to admit it, but you’ve got the hots for the playboy prince.” Tessa reaches for my martini and takes a swig. “And I don’t blame you…”

I snatch the martini back, down it – and immediately wonder if it was a good idea. The world is starting to look a bit fuzzy around the edges. “You’re wrong.”

Tessa floats a brow. “Do your toes curl up when he touches you?”

Something like that. But I’ll be damned if I admit it out loud. “I also think he’s a prick.”

“Most of the rich, aristocratic clients we’ve dealt with have come off that way, but once we got to know them better, they turned out to be decent enough, didn't they?”

“He has zero sense of humor. How can I even think about marrying a guy who doesn’t laugh?”

Tessa’s eyebrow spikes upward. "You don’t know him well enough to know what his sense of humor is like. For all we know he's funny as hell.”

On the stage, the auctioneer, a well-groomed, middle aged woman launches into a brief description of me. Tessa wraps a hand around my elbow and steers me towards the stage.

“I think you should go for it.” Tessa hooks an arm around my waist and guides me towards the stage. “Playing princess, even for a little while has got to be a blast. The guy looks like he’d be great in the sack, and you can put up with a boring guy for a few months, especially when you’re surrounded by gorgeous antiques.”

I reach the stage, pushed along by the hand in the small of my back and Tessa nudges me up and onto the platform before I get a second to respond.