Ludwig woke up feeling exhilarated. His arms snaked out around Angelica, pulling her closer to his body. A sense of contentment traveled through him. He could wake up like this beside her every day.

He ran his fingers along her scalp, massaging and stimulating, and let them slide down the heavy mass of her raven hair.

She moaned and moved, pressing her head into his fingertips.

“Does that feel good?” He knew that it had to. She looked like a cat in heaven. His cat.

“Mmm,” was the only thing she said. Her eyes remained closed, and she stretched beside him, again like a cat.

As much fun as it was to watch her, they had a lot to do. He had a big evening planned and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

But they had time for a little bit of fun. He got up and went to the kitchen, making them both breakfast. By the time he made it back to the bed, she was starting to wake up a little more. “Time to wake up, Kätzchen.”

She frowned at him and then opened her eyes. “I am not a cat.”

He got into the bed, setting both plates down so he could arrange the pillow for him to lean back. “I disagree. You are very much like a cat. Meine Kätzchen.”

She got up, letting the sheets fall to her waist as she sat back against the headboard, propping the pillows up behind her. She yawned and stretched looking deliciously sleepy.

She glared at him. “I don’t like pet names.”

He doubted that, but he had a feeling that she was trying to keep a wall between them.

Her eyes widened as she took in what he had prepared. “I didn’t know you were a chef.”

He smiled. There’d been many instances he’d needed to know how to cook at least the basics for himself. “Almost anyone can scramble an egg and make toast.”

“You think almost anyone could do that.”

He didn’t doubt that she could too, despite always having had chefs at her service. Now he had to figure out what they were going to do for the day, because if he didn’t come up with something good, she might decide to leave early. “Finish up and then take a shower.”

She blinked up at him and he saw indignation come over her face. When her arms crossed in front of her, he knew he was in trouble.

“You have a very bossy way about you, Your Highness. You do know that, right?”

“So I’ve been told on a few random occasions,” he admitted, trying not to laugh because, damn, this woman was too independent—and too sexy—for her own good. Sure enough he was going to like every second of showing her how good he was at giving orders. “But I have your best interests in mind.”

“Really?” she asked, arching a brow and putting her hands to her hips. “And how exactly is that?”

“Because every second that you stand there, naked, looking good enough to eat,”—he forced himself to not reach for her and fuck her against the wall—“I contemplate the many reasons why I shouldn’t forget about showing you a bit more of Lektenstaten and join you in the shower.”

Her mouth formed a silent O before she pivoted on her feet and rushed toward the bathroom.

Her round ass kicked his imagination into high gear with possibilities, thickening his cock, and tempting him to change his plans. “Don’t worry, Kätzchen, I’ll take a rain check.”

He let out a short laugh when the bathroom door lock engaged and headed to the guest bathroom.

This is new. A woman waiting on a man who is taking too long to get ready. Settling down on the sofa, Angelica watched the fire in the massive fireplace, which took up half a wall to her left, and invited images of cold, winter days snuggling with Ludwig in front of warm flames.

Nice. Sighing, she wondered how she had gone from having her one and only one-night-stand with a womanizer to being with Mr. Virtue.

But of course she wouldn’t be around to find out, so she wasn’t sure why she was even contemplating such a scenario.

She looked at her mobile, glad there weren’t any messages from her brother or her aide-de-camp. She cared about her country and she didn’t want something to be handled poorly because she wasn’t there to do it. Though, that might change anyway. Siobhan’s appearance in their lives might change everything or it might change nothing. Angelica’s reality was that if Siobhan decided to take on her duties—as was their father’s dying wish—or assigned someone else whom she trusted to replace Angelica, she would have no place to go or anything to do. And she only knew how to do one thing; assist her brother the king with running a country.

If what Jaxon said was true, then nothing was likely to change. She could then focus solely on getting to know her new sister and finding a way to welcome her into the family. There was so much Siobhan had missed out on and a part of Angelica felt badly for her.

So far, she was enjoying herself, and even though a part of her worried about how things were in Aragon, she didn’t want to think about having to return. Yet.

To distract herself, she grabbed a leather photo album on the table and lost herself in what was a history of the Von Kröenenberg family.

How long she sat there she didn’t know, but a knock on the door made her straighten.

“Ludwig, it’s Friedrich. Open up.”

Surely, she should let his brother in, and admittedly, she was curious to meet the man, but she was not sure if Ludwig wanted her opening the door of his home as if she was a…girlfriend. Or something.

But another knock sounded before he arrived downstairs, making her rush across the room. Impatience is evidently a Von Kröenenberg family trait.

Opening the door, her eyes went wide at the handsome man before her.

A girl could get overwhelmed surrounded by so much testosterone. It appeared good looks also ran in the family. As in the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome men of romances, except these were tall, blond, and handsome.

Before her stood a man much like Ludwig, but not Ludwig at all. Impressively broad and muscular, with the same blue eyes, and short blond hair, he was taller—not that Ludwig was short, because he wasn’t at six-foot-three.

His brows dipped at the sight of her. “Who are you?”

“You Von Kröenenberg men have a way with words, don’t you?” she answered, scowling back at him and planting her hands on her hips.

His frown only darkened but he answered in a soft tone, “Sometimes.”

She stepped back from the door to let him enter. As soon as the door closed behind him, she added, “I’ll call Ludwig.”

“Wait. Can we start again?” Friedrich held out his hand. “Friedrich von Kröenenberg.”

She smiled and offered him her hand. “Angelica di Castella y Aragon.”

“You’re—”

“Yes, I’m the jilted bride,” she finished for him, knowing what was next and pulled her hand free, retreating toward the stairs.

“I was actually going to say you’re Siobhan’s sister.”

Angelica stopped walking. There was really no way out of her stupid misstep. Turning, Angelica found Friedrich snatching a coke from the small refrigerator hidden in an exquisite Louis XV chest of drawers.

He leaned on the edge of the deceptive piece of furniture and popped the can open. “Want one?”

He wasn’t pushing her over her stupid retort. Instead, he was giving her a reprieve, and she appreciated it.

“No. I don’t even want to think about eating or drinking.” She put a hand on her full stomach from the feast Ludwig had served her for breakfast. “Ever.”

Friedrich joined her on the sofa, sitting at the other end. “Did my brother get you drunk and take advantage of you?”

“I certainly did not.” What kind of question is this?

Angelica and Friedrich turned at the sound of Ludwig’s voice.

Dressed in straight, well-worn pewter-gray jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged every inch of his muscular torso, his longish blond hair freshly washed and loose around his face, curling around his neck and shoulders, there was an edge of lethal wildness barely suppressed, barely contained, that had her wishing she’d worked harder to set it free the night before.

“No, he didn’t,” Angelica agreed. “Much to the contrary. He served me breakfast in bed. I seem to bring out the gentleman in him.”

The words were out before she could stop them, and she felt her face warm with color.

Friedrich looked at Angelica and then his brother. “What am I missing here?”

“Nothing.” Angelica and Ludwig said in unison.

“If you both say so…” Friedrich cleared his throat. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about. But if this is a bad time, perhaps you can drop by my apartment. Soon, if possible.” He gave his brother a look that added intensity to his words. He really needed to talk but was being polite.

“I can take a hint. You want to talk to your brother alone.” Angelica eyed Friedrich and then Ludwig. “I’ll go upstairs.”

Friedrich arched a brow at Ludwig. “Doesn’t miss a thing, does she?”

“No,” said Angelica, before Ludwig could answer. “I don’t.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Friedrich promised.

After he heard the upstairs door close, Ludwig asked, “What’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

“Not at the moment, but you might be.”

“I’ve already been warned about hurting her. That’s not going to happen, so you—”

Friedrich walked over to a window and looked outside. “Oh, that might explain it then.”

“Explain what?”

“You’re being watched. There’s a car outside, just a ways down the street. The driver has an expensive camera with a long-range lense and it’s aimed at your house.”

“What a prick. He needs to back off and give her some respect. And give me some too.”

“Who?”

“Valantín. Angelica’s overly-possessive brother. The one who gave me the warning.”

“I guess that would make sense, except for one thing. Wouldn’t a king hire someone who’d drive a better car than an old beat-up Ford Fiesta?”

“Not if he doesn’t want to draw attention and make it obvious.”

“Brother, in this neighborhood, an old Fiesta stands out like a sore thumb. Why do you think I noticed it?

“Hmm. You’re right. Rookie paparazzi?”

“Didn’t feel like it. But I guess it’s possible. Whatever it is, I don’t like it.”

He ran his hand through his hair, worried. “Neither do I.”