“I can’t do this.”

From my position, just a few feet back from Alexis and Tessa, I hear every word they’ve said. I’ve also heard every word they’ve exchanged since Tessa first walked into the dressing room Alexis has been occupying for the past few hours.

I should feel bad about eavesdropping. My parents would say they raised me better than that, but I don’t. I’ve learned so much about my new wife from the short exchange between her and Tessa. I know now that Alexis is much closer to snapping under the pressure than I’d realized – and that I have at least one person on my side.

Listening to them talk, I realized that I wanted Alexis to trust me enough to accept my help, something I’ve never wanted from another woman.

I also realized that knowing just how stressed she feels right now makes me proud of her for doing her very best to keep things together.

Somehow I’ve managed to marry a very strong and fascinating woman. I can’t say I’m disappointed. Just surprised. I never saw my life heading in this direction. But disappointed? No, not one little bit.

I lengthen my stride and reach Alexis’s side before she has time to turn and bolt. I wrap my arm around her waist and propel her out from curtained off section and into the view of every reporter who is in attendance. Which is every reporter.

Besides the British Royal family, of course, mine is just about the most photographed, filmed and reported on in the world.

And the family in question – mine – is seated behind a long table. Each one has a microphone in front of them. Nothing we’re not used to. Press conferences are a regular part of life.

The side garden my family always uses to host press conferences whenever the weather is nice is packed to capacity. Eileen explains what this particular press conference is about and how my family will only be addressing the topic of my sudden marriage, nothing else.

I know that I’m the heir to the throne and therefore a source of fascination, but I can’t quite believe that so many professional reporters have nothing better to do than focus on me. There must be more important things to cover.

Apparently not.

I help Alexis into a seat and take mine. At my signal, Eileen wraps up her spiel and takes a step back.

A reporter with ginger hair and a lanky build leaps to his feet. My friend from the hotel last night. This should be fun.

“Prince Lucas, isn’t it true that the whole reason you decided to get married was because you wanted to win a bet?”

Every eye in the place bores into me.

I take a moment to think about my answer. “Yes … and no. But mostly no.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, my cousin and I did have a marriage bet, but I can assure you it had nothing to do with why I’m a married man today.”

The ginger reporter isn’t about to give up. “So why did I hear your … bride, discussing the bet last night. She seemed very concerned about it.”

“Since so many people knew about the bet – it was kind of a family joke, I felt it was only fair to make sure Alexis new about its existence before we were wed. It seemed the fairest way to handle the situation.”

I take a deep breath, hoping beyond all hope that I’ve can’t the situation. But no such luck.

“According to immigration records, Alexis Thane only entered the country two days ago and that she was here on official business. What was that business?” An older reporter who’d been covering my family’s affairs for years asks.

To my surprise, Alexis pipes up. “I’m an antiques dealer. Queen Lynette retained me to look at some furniture and older knickknacks.”

She doesn’t sound exactly confident, but at least her voice doesn’t shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tessa give her friend a wide smile and thumbs up.

“Yesterday morning I went to the castle in order to view and start evaluating the pieces,” Alexis continues.

My mother leaps on this opportunity to explain how we’re currently in the early stages of creating a new, national museum which Alexis and her business partner will head up. Polite pause.

“Prince Lucas, Princess Alexis,” a black reporter with an Irish accent speaks up. “Did you know one another beforehand?”

This was where things were going to get tricky.

I start concocting an elaborate lie about how I’d met Alexis before and convinced my mother to hire her services in an effort to lure Alexis to the country so I could convince her to marry me.

Unfortunately, I don’t get to tell it.

“I’d never met Lucas before yesterday,” Alexis says before I can finish the thought process.

Crap, this isn't good.

“I was fascinated from the first moment I saw her.” Not exactly a lie. I’d been fascinated and furious.

“So, it was love at first sight?” A pretty, plumb reporter with dark eyes and a halo of wild, curly dark hair stares up at me. It’s an underarm throw. And I hit it out of the park.

I meet her eyes. “From the moment I met her, I couldn’t stop thinking about Alexis.”

“So, it was love at first sight,” the reporter presses. She wants the words, not just the hint.

I lean closer to the microphone. “Yes.”

The funny thing is, I know I’m lying, yet as the word slips out of my mouth, I realize it’s not as ridiculous as it sounds.

While it was more irritation at first sight than love, I’ve always been told that there’s a fine line between the two. And there’s no getting around the fact that I’ve been obsessed with Alexis since that moment and now that I’ve gotten to know her better, I find her fascinating.

I slide a sideways glance at my bride. She’d be so easy to fall in love with.

I jolt at the thought.

No, I remind myself. Love isn’t for me. I tried it once, it was horrible. It not only messed with my heart but also my head and caused me to blow the most important competition of my life.

Never again.

The reporter doesn’t buy my explanation. She studies Alexis and me with narrowed eyes. With her expression, she dares me to prove myself.

I didn't walk away from the dare to get married, so there’s no way I’m going to back down from this silent challenge. I’ll show her to question the validity of my words, even if I am lying through my teeth.

I lean sideways and slide a finger beneath Alexis’s jaw, coaxing her head around to face me.

One kiss, I think.

My heartbeat kicks up a notch. Other than a brief brush of closed lips against closed lips after last night’s impromptu wedding ceremony, we’d yet to lock lips, despite a couple of petting sessions that hadn’t had a chance to get as out of hand as I’d have liked.

One simple, chaste kiss to show the reporter that my wife and I are in love – or at the very least in a very deep state of like.

My hand glides lower, cupping the side of her neck as I urge her to meet me half way.

Her eyes widen for a split second before drifting closed.

Rather than claiming her mouth, I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my tongue, testing the fullness of her lower lip, marveling in its silky texture.

Her hands slide up my arms until her fingers tangle in the short hair at the nape of my neck.

Beneath my palm her pulse quickens, its tempo mirroring my own.

I draw a lazy line across the seam of her lips, causing them to part. I capture her lower lip between my teeth, and nip and tug at until I pull a moan from somewhere deep within her.

The sound of her pleasure ignites my own. Blood roars in my ears before pooling in my groin. I release her lips, and our tongues tangle in a sensual battle that’s as old as time.

I should have known she’d manage to taste both sweet and spicy, a combination I’m fast becoming addicted to. My free hand reaches out and snakes around her waist, ready to pull her onto my lap where I can enjoy better access to her mouth and everything else, her sweet, tight body has to offer.

Just as I start sliding her delectable bottom across the chair, the sound of loud applause shatters the air, startling both of us.

We break apart and spin towards the crowd. Most of the reporters have leapt to their feet are giving us a standing ovation. I fooled them.

Or did you just fool yourself?

Ordinarily, I’d be pleased with the results, I got exactly what I wanted when I first sat down at this little press conference. The entire group is back on my side. Tomorrow, every single paper and blog around my little country will carry headlines about the red-hot romance between Prince Lucas and his new bride.

My parent’s certainly look pleased with the outcome, but I’m not.

I’m sick of this.

I don’t want to be here anymore. The only thing I want to do right now is find somewhere private where no one can interrupt me while I gain a little carnal knowledge about my new wife.

I glower at the crowd of reporters and wonder how much more of this press conference I need to sit through.

I glance at Alexis. She’s looking at the crowd, but I don’t think she’s really seeing them. She looks shell shocked and … well, aroused.

Screw this. I’m the Prince of Moravia. The next in line for the throne. I can do whatever I fucking want.

“I’m out of here,” I say into the microphone. I stand up. “I’ve answered all of your questions. So now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to spend time with my wife.”

I bend down and scoop Alexis into my arms, cuddling her against my chest. Camera’s flash as I stride towards the curtained off area that lets me entire the castle without being seen by the press.

“Call the airport and tell my pilot to get my plane ready.” I tell Eileen as I pass her. “We’re getting the Hell out of here.”