The flight was surprisingly short, and Angus had a limousine with a driver—and his team of bodyguards—waiting for them on the helipad.

Widely regarded as one of the most exclusive shopping destinations in the world, Bahnhofstrasse rivaled London’s Regent Street and Paris’s Avenue des Champs-Élysées.

After they left the optician, where Angus made her chose not only one, but two pairs of glasses and a pair of sunglasses from Cartier gold eyewear, and where they had met with Javert Romani, whom Angus introduced to Siobhan as the best jeweler in Lektenstaten, and had requested a set of pearls and diamonds for her—without asking the price or seeing the jewels—they drove further down from Hauptbahnhof towards Lake Zürich, where the high-street chain stores were replaced by luxury international brand shops. Siobhan glued her nose to the tinted window watching the high concentration of designer labels at the southern end of the street: Chanel, Burberry, Dior, Hermès, and other luxury concept stores.

She tried not to think about the money they—he—would spend buying clothes for her as the limousine stopped in front of a slim black tinted glass building, one of the concept stores, and the driver and a bodyguard left the car to open the doors for them.

A few of the saleswomen turned their noses up at Siobhan’s scuffed boots, and the mix of her own old clothes with some of the new pieces Angus had acquired for her.

Angus followed a few steps behind, and watched as she’d donned an indifferent expression, but he could tell she was embarrassed, and that made his hackles rise.

“Your Majesty.” The shop owner rushed to attend him, bypassing Siobhan with a quick good morning, and bowing solicitously. “In what way may I assist you?”

He walked over to Siobhan, passed an arm over her shoulder, and bent to place a kiss on her head.

“You can get my fiancée anything she could possibly need,” Angus told the woman. “Her baggage was stolen, so she’ll be needing everything. And we’ll need it all delivered to us today.”

At the word fiancée, the woman looked at Siobhan’s hand.

How dare she? “I want you and your employees to understand nothing is too good, or too costly, for the soon-to-be Princess of Lektenstaten,” Angus stressed to the designer, adding, “Her wardrobe should reflect that. And so, should their attitude,” he gestured to the sales girls, “or this will be the last royal visit this store is ever graced with.”

The woman nodded enthusiastically, congratulating him and Siobhan for their engagement. A sharp clap of her hands sent assistants rushing in a flurry.

He watched Siobhan admiring the clothes, caressing silks and velvets, and he began to grow hard. He was astonished at how easily she aroused him.

Soon, they were shown to a private floor and offered champagne, to which Angus immediately answered by saying Siobhan would prefer some fruit juice or chamomile tea.

“Angus,” she urgently whispered, grabbing his arm and steering him aside. “An entire wardrobe? That will cost a fortune!”

He looked at her as if she had sprouted horns. He couldn’t believe a woman might not take the fullest possible advantage of his unlimited black American Express. He could admit she had surprised him—in fact, she continued to with her unusual behavior. “That’s not a problem.”

“I’m pregnant,” she told him, frustrated, waving her hand over her body. “In a few weeks nothing normal sized will fit me and I’ll have to buy maternity stuff.”

“Is that so?” When she nodded, he shrugged. “Then, when you need new clothes, you can buy more.”

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she accepted a steamy cup of tea. “It’s a waste of money, Angus. You don’t need to do this.”

Angus narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps instead of proposing, I should have offered you a position as my mistress. This way you would spend without pity.”

She swallowed, weakening whatever resolve she’d erected between them. Just because they could not see eye to eye on the majority of things, it didn’t mean the flame had died between them.

There were nights when she lay alone, wishing he would come into her bedroom and make the flame burn brighter, stoking the fire until she nearly combusted under his touch.

But he hadn’t and she was becoming more frustrated by the day.

Pausing with the teacup near her lips, Siobhan said, “I wouldn’t have accepted and, of course, if I accept any position in your life, I would rather marry you. It would probably be an adventure.”

Somewhat mollified, Angus sat in the armchair closer to her. “I wouldn’t count on much adventuring if I were you. I’m going to look after you and keep you safe.”

She glanced at him over the rim of the cup, her eyes smiling. “What I meant was, you are the adventure.”

Angus felt his heartbeat tumbling like a row of tin soldiers.

He had always enjoyed women casually, sampling their favors with relaxed ease. Not one of them had ever caused this aching craving Siobhan seemed to have unlocked from the center of his soul. God help him, he could never let her find out the power she had over him, or he would be completely at her mercy.

By the end of two hours, she had tons of everything she could think of and some she had never dreamt she needed. From delicate and expensive lingerie to even more expensive suits, dresses, coats, and purses, bags, carry-ons, shoes and stilettos—and only God knows what—with the total in the absurd and ridiculous hundreds of thousands. There were so many items on the counter when she finally told the excited saleswomen she was tired, Angus immediately intervened.

Siobhan threw herself in an armchair beside him and whistled under her breath. “God, I lost track of the items I selected.” She wasn’t even sure she would live long enough to use everything.

“If you need more, they can send someone with more clothes for you to select others.”

“Angus, you don’t seem to understand.” She worried her lip with her teeth before leaning toward him and whispering, “This is going to be a fortune. I have no idea why I need,” she raised her hand and ticked off on her fingers, “a walking dress, a horse race dress, a reception dress, and an evening dress, plus a black brocaded silk costume. They fostered matching hats on me, which they call fasci…erm…oh! Fasci-something!”

He smiled, delighted by her normalcy. “Fascinators.”

“That.” Siobhan rolled her eyes at him. “And that croco bag that cost fifty thousand …whatever-currency they use in Switzerland. Should I put back a few pieces?”

“It’s Swiss Francs and somehow they forgot a ball gown.” He winked at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

Angus, sitting lazily in an armchair, knew he had just won the first battle, and it could be a very pleasant game, instead of a war.

Not for a moment did he think he was being unfair, that he was using his tremendous wealth and powerful appeal to sneak under her skin and break down her defenses. Indeed, he thought he was doing her a favor in not sitting her down and discussing with her, rationally and thoughtfully, the pros and cons of a marriage of convenience as a business transaction. If that isn’t respect for her values, then what is?

It would work much better to let her see all the benefits she could reap from being his wife without having him say it. “Don’t worry about the total.”

“But—”

“Siobhan, I can win that amount—or lose it—with the blink of an eye in one of my equity funds.” And that made her even more worried. “It really gives me pleasure to gift it to you.”

“So, we are taking it all?”

“Yes, we are.” He snapped his fingers and the sales assistants scurried to pack everything and the owner came forward with the credit machine.

He extended his Black American Express to the owner of the shop and in less than one minute it was all settled.

The thought of spending half-a-million Swiss Francs in clothes, in less than two hours a few weeks ago would have been completely unreal to her. Now, she was learning it was nothing.

“Everything will be sent to your house in an hour.” The owner handed the machine and slip to an assistant and continued to babble solicitously, “I’ll accompany you. It was a pleasure to receive you and, milady, if you need anything…”

They were almost at the door when several cameras went off and Siobhan shrank in dismay against Angus.

“Keep your head up and don’t stop walking,” he whispered, with a steady arm around her waist. “They are not going to bite you.”

She looked up into his eyes. “I’m not ready for this.”

“Oh, milady, if you want to exit by the back—”

A hard stare from Angus cut off the shop owner’s suggestion.

Returning his attention to Siobhan, he gave her a reassuring smile. “You are a beautiful woman and that is all they want. All you have to do is smile. My security team will hold them back and if questions are asked, let me do the talking.”

He offered Siobhan his arm and motioned for the owner of the shop to open the door and with firm strides crossed the threshold to a sea of microphones and cameras which parted just to surround them in an avalanche of questions.

“Your Majesty. When is the wedding?” from one reporter was followed by “Where did you meet? What is your fiancée’s name?” from another while a third tried to get his microphone past Angus’s bodyguards’ arms and not succeeding, shouted, “How does it feel to be marrying a real king, miss? Is this a fairy tale? The prince, or rather, the king and Cinderella?”

Surprise and anger showed in Angus’s face for a brief moment. Then as if someone had flipped a switch, his face became impassive. His bland smile gave nothing away as he continued to ignore their questions. He was annoyed by the renewed interest of the press at the worst possible time. It was certainly not the instant he would have chosen to introduce Siobhan to the public eye but he smiled at the cameras and kept an arm around her, strolling to his limousine as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Does your mother approve of you wedding a commoner and marring your impeccable bloodlines?”

Angus stopped walking and turned to the reporter, noticing that he wore a wedding band. “Did your mother approve of your wife?”

The reporter found himself on the opposite side of the lens as the other reporters turned their cameras toward him, eating their own for a change. Flashing cameras captured his surprise at the turnabout before he finally answered, “It doesn’t matter. I married the girl I love.”

“Well, there you have it,” Angus resumed a brisk pace, while laughter sounded behind him and a few intrepid reporters tried to break the throng of his security team.

For the first time, Siobhan fully appreciated how skilled Angus was at controlling his emotions and concealing his reactions. Yet, that comprehensive reserve and self-discipline unnerved Siobhan, who wore her feelings on the surface and rarely hesitated to express them.

His security team had been caught unawares and had neglected to warn him because it had been a long time since Angus had done anything to attract the attention of the paparazzi.

No expression she could interpret crossed his features as his security team pushed the journalists back for the limousine to pull away.

He would discover who had alerted the press. Someone at the optician’s? Or a stranger passing by who recognized me?

* * *

On the drive to the helipad and on the flight back home, Angus was unusually quiet. And although Siobhan didn’t think he was upset with her, she wasn’t entirely sure. She did argue with him about spending so much on clothing, but they got along fine after she acceded to his demand that she buy a new wardrobe. Or was it that he was regretting spending a fortune in clothes?

Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and had to ask. “Did I do something wrong?”

He turned his head from the scenery below and his golden eyes met hers. “What? Why do you ask that?”

“You’re not talking to me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I am. See? I just did it again.”

Siobhan laughed and smacked his arm. “But you weren’t, until I said something.”

“That means you weren’t talking to me either, before you said something,” he countered.

Oh, this man! “I’ll start over, okay? Angus, is everything alright? It seems as if something is bothering you.”

“Everything is fine, minus some residual anger at those savages who call themselves journalists. I want to hurt them.”

“Why? What did they do?”

“They insulted you. Viciously. And I won’t tolerate it. How dare anyone look at another person and tear into them and pass judgment on them based on the quality or price of their clothing. To do that to anyone is low and vile. But to you? It’s unforgivable, and that reporter will pay for it. One way or another. I’ll think of something. At the very least, he’ll be losing his palace press credentials, and I promise you, Angel, you will not be disrespected in that way again. Not if I can help it.”

Siobhan was somewhat stunned into silence for the remainder of the flight. This man really, truly did care about her. This had nothing to do with the baby. This was only about her and her feelings, and how people treated her. She sort of felt like she had her own personal champion; someone to look out for her in general, not just as the mother of the royal heir.

Is it my imagination or are we beginning, against all odds, to bond?

She could scarcely believe it. He was utterly out of her league, at least in terms of physical attraction and social savoir faire. She, differently from him, didn’t come from a privileged background, and the dissimilarities only began there. And yet she could feel something tentative between them.

It was scary and exhilarating at the same time, and it made her head spin, as if she was eight again and on one of those terrifying roller coaster rides her mother had taken her on during their last outing together.

* * *

Catriona choked on her Martini. She couldn’t believe her eyes as the TV showed Angus and Siobhan exiting a high-end clothing boutique, her blood boiled in her veins.

The image on the screen zoomed in on the beautiful and startled young woman.

“Who is that?” Aileen asked.

“Shhhh,” Catriona silenced her sister-in-law and grabbed the remote control to increase the volume.

“Where did you meet?” one reporter was asking Angus.

“Oh, my God.” She could not believe her son, her beloved son, would stoop so low as to embarrass the country by wandering in Zurich with a nobody—a waitress—and buying her things!

“What are we going to do, Catriona?” Aileen whined when Angus seemed to confirm this woman was his fiancée. “This is not what we had planned at all!”

“Hush,” Catriona hissed, her head starting to pound.

“…His Majesty neither confirming nor denying that he’s engaged to the mystery woman. Meanwhile, in the capital…” the reporter said, moving to another topic.

They weren’t married yet. There was still time to save Angus from making a horrible mistake. “We need to find out who she is, and what her weaknesses are. Considering her poor state of dress, we should easily be able to offer her enough money to leave and never return.”

“Excellent plan,” Aileen stated, rising from her chair. “I shall call in a favor and we’ll know in a day or so whom we are dealing with.”

Catriona nodded, her stomach churning. Innes had been the perfect wife for her son; a proud woman to be his princess. She had been everything this woman was not, and Catriona was not about to allow this to happen.

No, she would find her weakness and eliminate her quickly. After all, knowing her son, there was no attachment that was going to make him think twice once she was gone.

She’d been through this once before with him making a ridiculous choice regarding a female companion. But after she’d been disposed of, Angus quickly forgot about her, and he would do the same with this one.

She just needed to make it happen.