Chapter 2
Whoa.
From the photographs Stazzi had seen of the prince, she had expected him to be tall, but not this tall. Four, possibly five inches over six feet in height, he stood several inches taller than Daniel and the group of men—bodyguards?—accompanying him.
Stazzi was forced to tilt her head back in order to look him in the eyes as he stepped out of the lift, despite her own five feet ten inches in height in her three-inch-heeled shoes.
The photographs of him in the newspapers the past ten years, hadn’t nearly done him justice.
They hadn’t captured the sheer intensity of those piercing green eyes, for one thing.
Or the air of authority and power that came off him in waves.
Or the fact that the muscular width of his shoulders filled out the jacket of his perfectly tailored suit, as the shirt was fitted to the flatness of his washboard abdomen, his hips lean and powerful above long legs.
His Highness certainly didn’t spend all his time sitting behind a desk.
Which inappropriately took Stazzi’s thoughts straight to that conversation with Lissa of a couple of weeks ago, regarding where and how he might spend his time. Faced with the man himself, it was far too easy to imagine this gorgeous man in a candlelit dungeon or bedroom, sweat gleaming on that bared and incredibly wide and muscular chest. He would be wearing only a pair of black leather pants that clung lovingly to his hips and legs, and clearly outlining the impressive package nestled between his thighs, before he set about ravishing the naked woman tied to his bed.
The image instantly made Stazzi’s legs feel weak and sent every other thought out of her head, and she could only stare at him as Daniel made the introductions, her mouth slightly agape, nipples perked in arousal, and a sudden rush of heat moistening between her thighs.
Lust at first sight.
What the hell…?
She was a twenty-seven-year-old woman poised on the edge of an engagement and marriage. She shouldn’t be having lustful thoughts about any man but Will.
That might be true, but she was also a woman. And almost being an engaged woman didn’t make her blind.
Stazzi gave herself a mental shake as she realized she couldn’t just continue to stand there staring at him; otherwise, the drool might actually start to dribble unattractively down her chin.
“Your Highness,” she greeted him shakily, deciding it might be better if she didn’t attempt a curtsey. She wasn’t sure her knees would support her when she tried to straighten. Instead, she held out her hand.
Which Prince Alexandre instantly took into the warmth of his much larger one, sending a sizzle of awareness up Stazzi’s arm and into her already tingling breasts. Her blue silk blouse and the lace bra she wore beneath it suddenly felt uncomfortably constrictive, the black jacket of her business suit uncomfortably hot.
“Anastazia.” Even his voice was made for sex, low, with a hint of gravel, along with heat and sensuality.
The same heat that now flooded between her thighs as the prince lifted her hand to press those chiseled—warm—lips against her knuckles. All the time, that dark green gaze held hers captive.
It was as if there were only the two of them in the hallway. No Daniel watching them with amusement. No Gerard St Sebastien frowning his disapproval. No expressionless bodyguards.
Bodyguards.
Because the man still holding her hand was a prince.
“Stazzi,” she corrected distractedly, removing her hand from his.
His head tilted as he studied her with those intense green eyes for several long seconds. “I prefer Anastazia,” he finally dismissed.
As if that was the end of the subject. Which it probably was. This man was a prince, Stazzi reminded herself self-derisively. Absolute ruler of his own island and everyone who lived on it. And her too, for the length of his stay at the Meyers Hotel.
If she still had a job after tonight. The fact that Daniel was smiling told her the prince hadn’t mentioned her email to him yet, but she couldn’t count on that continuing to be the case.
Talking of which… “Mr. St Sebastien.” She turned to greet the man standing at the prince’s side. The same man who had sent her all those previous emails over the past two weeks.
It was easy to tell the two men were related, Gerard St Sebastien a pale imitation of his cousin; his eyes were hazel rather than green, his hair brown instead of blue-black, his features less chiseled, and he stood an inch or two shorter than the other man too.
He also had a very limp handshake. A reluctant handshake that told Stazzi he would rather not have to touch her at all, but politeness dictated he should.
“I’ll now leave you in Stazzi’s very capable hands.” Daniel smiled at the prince before giving Stazzi a brief nod and stepping back into the lift to return to the ground floor.
Stazzi avoided looking at the prince. “May I introduce Adrian and Grant.” She turned to smile at the two hotel employees who had accompanied her. “They will be responsible for taking care of all your needs twenty-four-seven and are answerable directly to me, so if there’s anything—”
“I want you.”
Stazzi’s mouth went dry and her cheeks burned as the prince spoke to her in that voice of gravel and sex. He wanted her. What on earth—
“By all means, Adrian and Grant may take care of Gerard and my men.” He smiled at the two hotel employees behind her before returning that piercing gaze to Stazzi. “I would prefer that you’re the one to personally take care of all my personal needs during my stay here.”
If he meant that as further clarification for his original statement, then he had completely failed to reassure Stazzi.
Maybe she had misunderstood him?
Or maybe not…
There was a predatory glint in those dark green eyes looking down at her so intently, and his tone of voice had definitely implied something. A voice that had sent her imagination into overdrive. Those sensual lips were also curved slightly, as if Prince Alexandre was inwardly laughing at her.
Mocking her.
Stazzi had spent most of the day ensuring that this suite was prepared exactly as Gerard St Sebastien and the man from Knight Security had instructed. She’d had to cancel her special date with Will tonight in order to accommodate the prince’s demand she be here when he arrived a day early. She’d also been on tenterhooks all day waiting for the other shoe to drop in regard to her wrongly sent email. And now he was daring to mock her?
“I’m sure you’ll find Grant and Adrian more than sufficient—” She broke off her brisk dismissal as the prince stepped forward, totally invading her space as he lowered his head and spoke softly beside her ear.
“‘A princely pain in the fucking ass’?”
Stazzi felt the color leech from her cheeks at hearing the prince quietly quote those words directly from her email. Even her lips felt numb, and she was pretty sure her eyes had widened guiltily as the prince moved back only slightly to look down at her in challenge, the warmth of his breath a soft caress against her jaw.
She couldn’t look away, was held totally captive by those predatory green eyes.
Intense, compelling eyes, that told her she hadn’t misunderstood him. That this man meant exactly what he’d said. He did want her. Physically. Tied to his bed or otherwise.
That realization was a little overwhelming. Flattering too, if she was honest with herself. The man was a prince, for goodness’ sake, and as rich as Croesus. What woman wouldn’t feel flattered at being told she was wanted by him?
Except it wasn’t going to happen. She was almost engaged, and even if she hadn’t been, she certainly didn’t supply those sorts of needs for the hotel guests.
Alexandre admired the light of rebellion that appeared in Anastazia’s eyes even as the color returned to her cheeks and she tilted her chin in an attempt to return his challenging gaze.
She was even more beautiful in the flesh than she appeared in her photograph. Her long hair gleamed blue-black in the overhead lighting, her eyes were the turquoise blue of a mountain lake, and her skin smooth and the color of ivory. Her lips were full and soft, the bottom lip slighter redder than the top, despite the application of a clear peach-tinted lip gloss. As if her teeth had been worrying at that lip before his arrival. Because of the email she had sent him earlier today? Alexandre had a feeling that might be the case.
His gaze moved lower to where he could clearly see the voluptuousness of the breasts pressing against her silk blouse, her waist slender, hips curvaceous. As for her legs… Those long shapely legs seemed never-ending.
Alexandre could all too easily imagine those legs wrapped about his waist as he entered her slick heat before pounding into her remorselessly. The thought of it was enough to cause his cock to swell in anticipation.
“If you would excuse us, gentlemen?” He took a firm hold of the top of Anastazia’s arm and kept her at his side as he dismissed everyone else. “Perhaps Adrian and Grant would be good enough to show you to your rooms?”
“Of course.” The elder of the two men—Adrian?—complied. “If you would care to come this way, gentlemen.”
Alexandre might find being the ruling prince of Androcco irksome at times, but he was all too appreciative of it now. Only Gerard dared to give him a frustrated glare of disapproval before he too trailed reluctantly down the hallway behind the other men. Leaving Alexandre alone with Anastazia. “Shall we go through to the sitting room?” he prompted smoothly.
She stood her ground. “If this is about that email I sent to you by mistake earlier today, then please accept my sincere apology. It’s no excuse, but—”
“No, it isn’t.”
She blinked. “You haven’t heard my excuse yet.”
“Do I need to?”
She gave him a quick glance before just as quickly looking away again.
“Also,” Alexandre continued softly, “I have a feeling your idea of an apology and my own are entirely different.”
She eyed him nervously. “I don’t understand…”
“Then perhaps we might discuss the problem over dinner?”
“Dinner?”
“Eating here would be preferable, of course, because then we wouldn’t need the presence of my bodyguards. Unless, of course, you have plans to assassinate me?” he added dryly.
“No, of course I don’t!” she gasped.
He nodded. “Then my bodyguards would need to come with us if you would prefer to eat at a restaurant outside the hotel—”
“I’m not—I have no intention—I’ve already eaten dinner.” Anastazia gave a firm shake of her head.
Alexandre studied her through narrowed lids, noting the anxiety about her eyes, the slight pallor to her cheeks. “Why did you just lie to me?”
“I didn’t—”
“What did you eat for dinner?”
“I… Well…” She gave an exasperated frown. “Look, Your Highness—”
“Alexandre.”
She blinked. “Mr. Meyers prefers his staff not to be overfamiliar with the hotel guests.”
“I am sure Mr. Meyers prefers that his staff not call one of those guests ‘a princely pain in the fucking ass’ too, but we both know that ship has already sailed,” he drawled as he once again grasped the top of her arm and took her with him as he strolled through to the huge sitting room of the suite. A room shrouded in the warmth given off by two lamps, one on each table beside one of the two low couches.
“Your Highness—”
“Alexandre,” he encouraged as he released her to walk across to the bar and peruse the array of bottles there, all of them to Alexandre’s preference. And all, no doubt, requested by Gerard on his behalf.
Stazzi chewed her bottom lip, a habit she had when worried or, in this case, out of her depth.
She had done a lot of lip chewing today.
If this man thought—
“Whisky or wine?”
Stazzi frowned. “I don’t—”
“I believe the whisky would be better for your nervousness,” the prince mused as he ignored her obvious protest to pour the single-malt whisky into two crystal glasses.
Nervousness? Stazzi wasn’t feeling anything as insipid as nervousness. Sheer terror at the power this man currently held over her might be a better description.
“Here we are.” He strolled across to where Stazzi stood, holding out one of the glasses to her until she took it with trembling fingers. “To us.” He tapped his glass against hers before raising it to his lips and taking a sip, that intense green gaze once again holding her captive over the rim of the glass.
To us?
What the hell did that mean?
There was no us. Not now. Not ever.
Even if this prince is the most gorgeous and sexy man I’ve ever set eyes on and he so obviously wants me?
Yes, even if.
She had Will. She was about to become engaged to Will.
What she wasn’t about to become was the sexual plaything of some princely ruler of an island in the Mediterranean.
Stazzi straightened her shoulders. “If you’re looking for female companionship during your stay, then I’m sure your cousin is perfectly capable of making those arrangements for you too—”
“I want you.”
This time, there was no mistaking Alexandre St Sebastien’s statement for anything other than what it was.
A statement of intent.
Or a princely decree.