“I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” The Secretary of State shook my hand, and I forced a smile. I loved Americans, but dealing with this particular one made me feel like I needed a shower.

“As am I.” I gestured toward the door and inclined my head. He walked out with me, and with a nod, disappeared with his security into the elevator.

I hated doing business in the suite, but Father had always told me that living rooms were the best conference rooms. As usual, he’d been right.

The Americans hadn’t wanted to budge, but neither did I. In the end we both gave away things we wanted to get things we needed.

The door shut, and I leaned back against the wall, taking a moment to myself.

“That took forever,” I told Jameson from where he sat on the couch, reading the New York Times.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he replied without looking up.

“Alexander,” Mother snapped as she walked out of her bedroom.

So much for that moment.

“Mother?” Forcing a smile was becoming easier and easier, and I was starting to hate myself for it. The smiles, the relationship she wanted to force me into with Charlotte—fake was becoming my new real.

But Willa is real.

“Did you want me to have your things packed for the Los Angeles trip?”

“I have no intention of going to Los Angeles,” I told her. I have every intention of seeing Willa.

“Nonsense,” she waved me off as her secretary appeared with Charlotte, planner-in-hand. “We have two dinners and a charity event to attend.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at me, and I released a sigh that was probably heard down Fifth Avenue.

“We’re leaving in a few hours, Alexander. I’ll see that you’re packed.” Mother walked out with her secretary..

“I’m not fucking going to LA,” I growled.

Jameson looked at me from over the paper. “Right.”

Charlotte grabbed a pillow from the couch and smacked him in the back of the head.

“Ouch! Was the hell was that for?”

“For being an ass.” She turned her attention back to me. “Of course you’re not going. Jameson will take your place, and you’ll have a few days here in New York to yourself.”

“I never said—”

She smacked him with the pillow again.

“For fuck’s sake, woman!”

“Do something nice for him!” she shouted.

“You don’t think that if we go for three days, that our mother would know it’s me?”

Charlotte tilted her head in a way that only she could. “Highly unlikely. She barely looks at Xander when they’re at those events. Besides, we pulled it off the night before last.”

“For one engagement! Not an entire weekend.”

“So what? If she figures it out, it’s not like she’s going to out us. She wants the PR too badly to publically say that the Crown Prince of Elleston stood up the entire west coast.”

“And you think you can fake it, Charlie? Be nice to me for an entire weekend like you are Xander?”

“Don’t. Call. Me. Charlie.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment. “If you can handle it, I can.”

Jameson groaned, but a few hours later, I was alone in the hotel suite...well, as alone as I could get with a security detail posted outside.

The door opened, and Oliver walked in.

Shit.

“Well, Sir. How would you like to spend your evening?” Oliver asked.

“Shouldn’t you be on the flight to LA?” I asked, putting on my best Jameson face.

“Well, seeing as I’m not assigned to Jameson, no. I think I’ll stay right here.”

“Fuck.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. They fooled your mother. Now, about your evening?”

Willa. It was seven p.m., early enough for...well...anything.

“I have a few ideas.”

* * *

I stood in the lobby of the Palace two hours later, my thumbs in my pockets, watching the door like a hawk.

“Nervous much?” Oliver asked from where he stood just behind me.

“Shut up.”

“You’re risking a lot by bringing her here,” he said softly. Had it been anyone else, I would have snapped, but Oliver had been my personal security for years. He was only a year older than I was, which was why I’d requested him, and why he didn’t give off the paternal vibe. Sure, he was my guard, but he was also one of the few people I trusted as my friend.

“Some things are worth the risk. I only have another ten or so days here before we head home, and then I have a lifetime of…” I shook my head, unable to complete the sentence. Today’s meeting with the Secretary of State taught me that I was good at my impending profession, that I had the right head, the right heart, and the ability to be what my people needed.

I would be a good King.

I’d also been a damn good human rights lawyer. Top of my class. But I could let that go. After all, I could do far more good as King than I could as a simple lawyer. I could influence Parliament on refugee laws, or lobby the UN directly again. I could put the crown to good use.

But in the last couple of days, when I pictured who would wear the crown next to me, it wasn’t Charlotte’s chestnut hair I saw. It was a blonde with unicorn colors and the sharpest mouth I’d ever heard...and the sweetest I’d ever tasted.

That kiss had knocked me on my ass and apparently addled my brain a little. I was well aware that we could only be temporary—that I’d need to tell her about me. She could make the decision after she had the facts.

In less than two weeks, I’d be back in Elleston.

In less than three months, I’d be engaged.

Before I could ride the self-pity train, Willa walked in. Her cheeks and nose were a rosy pink, and snow still dotted the hat she wore that slouched to the back. She looked how I’d imagined Christmastime in New York was supposed to.

Her smile was radiant as she walked toward me, pulling a small carry-on behind her. In that instant, I could breathe again. Every weight that held me down disappeared and my chest expanded with air that smelled a lot like hope.

I didn’t question it, merely accepted the fact that she had the most damnable effect on me, and I liked it.

She didn’t pause, just walked straight up to me, let go of her suitcase and kissed me, both arms around my neck. Mine came around her in reflex, pulling her chilled frame against my warmer one.

Her lips were cool and soft, and I barely restrained myself from begging entrance to her mouth. She tasted as happy as I felt. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her until she was in my arms again.

“Sir,” Oliver’s voice broke through my haze.

It was a gentle reminder that we were in a very public place—regardless of the fact that it was assumed I was Jameson. I’d even ruffled my hair as much as I could stand. I broke our kiss, promising myself that I’d kiss her harder, longer, later.

There was something to be said for anticipation.

“Hey you,” she said with a grin as she pulled back.

“Hey yourself,” I answered.

“Don’t get any ideas.” She raised an eyebrow. “You did promise me my own room.”

I fought my smile—and failed. “I make no assumptions.”

“Good. And I’m famished.”

“I have dinner waiting upstairs,” I promised as I led her to our private elevator.

“Are you eating with us, Oliver?” she asked.

I adored that about her—that she’d remembered his name. How she spoke to everyone, making no assumptions about rank.

“No, Ma’am,” he said as he pushed the button for the penthouse. “I only grabbed enough for the two of you. I actually have a date with Clementine tonight.”

“Ooh, is she pretty?” Willa asked as the elevator carried us up.

“Well, she’s my 9mm, so I think she’s gorgeous,” he said with a wink. “She needs a good cleaning.”

“Oh,” Willa said. “Have a good time?”

“Oh, he will.” I laughed.

The elevator stopped at our floor, and the doors opened directly into our suite. Oliver walked out first, pulling Willa’s suitcase with him. He left it by the couch and then went about his business, checking the rooms as usual. Like there was some assassin bent on getting to me for some random reason. After all, the Anti-Monarchist movement was a political threat, not a physical one.

“Holy shit,” Willa said softly, turning slowly to take in the suite. “What exactly is it that you do? Run a billion dollar corporation? A small country?”

Not far off.

“Something like that.”

“All clear, Sir,” Oliver said. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Thanks,” I told him as he left.

“Where is my room?” Willa asked, still studying our surroundings.

“Right there.” I pointed to the far door that led to an adjoining room. “Dinner or room?” I asked.

“Dinner,” she answered, already headed over to the dining room, where the formal table waited with silver serving dishes. She draped her coat over the chair, revealing a purple dress that I wanted to peel from her body. It caressed her curves in ways I was desperate to, tempted the line of her thighs that my tongue was eager to taste.

“You are served, my lady,” I said, removing the case off her plate as she took her seat.

Her laughter was the best thing I’d heard all day.

“You got us hot dogs?”

“Someone told me that local food was the best. I had Oliver track down the best hot dog cart in the city.” I took the seat across from her after pouring us each a glass of wine and sat.

“Omygodsogood,” she mumbled, devouring the hot dog.

“Good thing I had him get us about a dozen, then.” I grinned before eating my own. I loved how much she loved food. That she was never self-conscious, never worried about what people around her thought. In some ways, she was way more comfortable with herself than I was.

“Why don’t you want to run the family business?” she asked after she’d eaten her fill, leaning back in her chair. “Especially when it keeps you flush in penthouse suites and hot dogs.”

“I think to truly want something, you have to be given a choice—an opportunity to know it’s what you desire. The choice has never been mine.” I twisted the wine glass stem in my fingers, watching the soft lighting play over her smooth complexion and dance in her eyes.

“The money? The perks? The Oliver?” she asked. There was no greed in her eyes, no calculation, just genuine interest.

“I’ve never not had the money, but I know I could be happy with a lot less. The perks can be pretty fantastic, but they come at a price. And sometimes Oliver is that price. You give up your privacy for security and your choices for the good of...the family. And I had a career I loved before I was called home.”

“And what was that? Batman?”

“I’m a human rights lawyer by trade.”

Her eyes flew wide. “So, Batman. You’re basically Batman. Could you be any more perfect?”

“I’m hardly perfect. And what about you? Are your parents proud of their author?”

She blushed prettily, her gaze falling away from mine. “Yeah, they’re proud. Mom likes to haul my books to the local elementary schools. I know they wish I’d move closer, but once you get that taste of freedom, of being on your own, it’s hard to go back. Even when I go home for the holidays, I can only hack it a week before I’m desperate to get out of there and get back to where the only expectations I have are my own. I don’t do other people’s rules very well.”

She studied me for a moment before she pushed back from the table and walked around to my side. With those simple movements, the air between us charged to a palpable level of electricity.

I watched her every move, my eyes drawn to the movement of her hips, the sway of her breasts beneath her plunging neckline. She motioned, and I moved back my chair just in time for her to straddle me.

My hands flew to her hips, my fingers digging into the soft flesh. God, she felt good. Her curves were perfectly proportioned, and I knew without a doubt that she would feel like heaven under me, surrounding me.

Her arms looped around my neck, her eyes locked onto mine in a gaze more intimate than our current position—which was about to get a hell of a lot more uncomfortable really soon if she didn’t get that perfect ass off my lap.

“Willa?” I asked softly. I hadn’t brought her here to fuck her. Not that I was going to object if that was the way the night went. I wasn’t Jameson. I didn’t use my title to get laid, but I also never took a woman to bed who didn’t know who I was.

“Xander,” she whispered. Her hands threaded through my hair. “That’s better.”

“What’s better?” Her thighs shifted, her dress riding up, and it was definitely not better. I was getting harder by the second.

“You always look like you’re carrying the weight of the world.” She kissed my cheek. The tender gesture hit me right in the chest. “Especially when I ask you about your family, like right now.”

“Maybe not the world—”

She placed her finger over my lips, and I quieted.

“But when you kissed me, I felt that weight lift, your concentration shift.”

A corner of my mouth drifted up. “You do tend to consume my attention.” It was impossible to have her near, let alone this near and not get distracted by her.

“Good,” she said softly.

Her mouth met mine with a frenzy that I answered in full. I gave her control for a few seconds until I felt her tongue slide along mine. Then playtime was over.

I threaded my fingers through her hair and slanted her head so I could kiss her deeper. She moaned in my mouth, and the erection in my pants was no longer a thought, but a full-blown demand. The kiss was hot, openly carnal, a combination of teeth and tongue, lips and sighs.

Her hips rocked over mine, and then I was the one groaning, one of my hands sliding down her curves until I had a firm grasp on her ass. I moved my mouth along her jaw to the tender skin of her neck. She whimpered when I sucked on the spot that met her collarbone, and her hands tightened in my hair.

There was no logic here. No reason. There was only Willa, and the insane chemistry we had together.

And she has no clue who she’s really dealing with.

I clung to the thought as I leaned back, putting a little distance between us. “Willa, stop,” I forced out, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her eyes were hazy, her lips swollen from my kiss, and I’d never seen her more beautiful—or more fuckable.

“Nothing. I just think there are things you should know about me—”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and smiled in a way that was going to land her in my bed before I could say another damn word.

“Willa.”

“Are you a mobster?” she asked, flicking open the first button of my shirt.

“No.” But I do run an entire economy.

“Are you a criminal?”

“No.” Unless you listen to the Anti-Monarchists in Elleston.

“A murderer?”

“No.” They kept me far from the front line.

She picked up my hands and put them on her waist. “Then touch now. Talk later.”

Without breaking her gaze, I stood, lifting her against me. I balanced her weight with one hand under ass, as the other swept the dishes down the length of the table. I set her on polished wood and groaned at the sight of her soft thighs as the hem of her dress gave up the battle and headed for her waist.

I kissed her, melding our mouths until we were both gasping for air. Then I unzipped the back of her dress while my lips kissed a path to her neckline, and then the lacy cups of her bra as her dress fell open.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I said in reverence as I cupped the round globes of her breasts.

“More,” she instructed, arching into my hands.

In a world where I gave all the orders, I found myself willing to do anything she asked—just to please her. But touching her, damn if that didn’t please me more.

I peeled the lace of one cup down to reveal the pearled, pink tip of her nipple and nearly groaned. Of course she’d be exquisite. Everything about this woman was designed to tempt and tease me, almost as if I’d conjured her from a fantasy.

I had to taste her.

My hand slid up her thigh as my lips surrounded her nipple and licked the puckered flesh. My tongue swept and laved as her hands held me to her, her moans urging me on. Her thigh was so soft, supple, and I nearly bucked against the table when my thumb swept upward and over a very lacy, very wet, very small thong.

“Fuck, Willa.”

“Yes, please.” Her breath caught on that last word as her body rocked against me.

This was insane. Out of control. Reckless. And fucking flawless.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Ignore it,” she plead.

“I can’t,” I said, cursing every ounce of royal blood that sang through my veins. It could only be one person, and Oliver would only be here if it was urgent. I pulled the straps of her dress up and zipped her back. “Come in,” I called out.

Oliver stepped in and immediately turned around to face the door.

Not that I blamed him. If I walked in on a man with an hard-on this size I’d give him a little privacy too.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Sir, but there’s a situation you need to be briefed on.”

“My family?” I asked, my throat closing a little. They hadn’t checked in from LA yet, and Brie and Sophie were both still in Europe.

“No, Sir, they’re still enroute to LA. It’s at home. Anti-Monarchists.”

“Fuck.” I seethed. “Sophie?”

“Secured.”

Relief washed over me. Brie was still in Monaco with whatever model she’d chosen for the week.

“If I could turn on the television, Sir?”

“Go ahead.”

As Oliver headed to the living room—no doubt to bring up the news—I took Willa’s shocked face in my hands.

“Why would you need to know about Anti-Monarchists?”

“That was what I wanted to tell you. My full name is Alexander Wyndham.”

“Wyndham…” her eyes widened. “As in…”

“As in Crown Prince Alexander Gabriel Edward Wyndham the Fourth of Elleston.”

“You’re a prince.” If her eyes got any bigger, they might fall out. But there was no calculation there, no immediate assessment or speculation. Just pure shock.

“I am a prince.”

“Like a royal prince.”

“Is there any other kind?”

“I can think of musicians, anatomical piercings…”

I stroked my thumbs over her cheek, relishing the blush I’d brought to her cheeks a few minutes ago. “I’m the royal kind of prince.”

She swallowed, her eyes darting to where Oliver changed the channel to the world news. “You’re a prince. And I’m ...I’m a peasant.”

I laughed before I saw how deadly serious she was. Then I quickly schooled my features. “We don’t call people peasants anymore, Willa. We haven’t in a couple hundred years. The feudal system is out.”

She arched an eyebrow at me, thank God. My fiery American was coming out of her shock. “Fine then. A commoner.”

I leaned forward and kissed her softly, letting my lips linger without pressure. “You are anything but common.”

She sighed against my mouth, and I nearly swept in for another kiss before Oliver called over to me. “Found it.”

“Great,” I muttered. I searched the bluest eyes I’d ever seen and smiled. “I will answer every single question you could possibly have, but right now I need to see what it is they’re trying to destroy this time.”

Probably me, as usual.

“Can I come watch, too?” she asked. “Or do you need to do this alone?”

It was just the news, nothing she couldn’t see if she googled it. The briefings that would inevitably begin in a few hours were a different story.

“Please,” I said, helping her off the table.  She held out her hand, and at the contact, my shoulders dropped a little, just the barest hint of relaxation, but it was enough.

Until I saw what had happened. There were Anti-Monarchist demonstrations in our capital city of Rhyston, and given what the news was showing, the Anti-Monarchists were no longer just a political threat. They were a physical one.

“Xander,” Willa whispered.

“It will be okay,” I told her, pressing a kiss to her temple before I reached for a phone.

For the first time, I headed toward a situation I’d need to eventually handle alone, but I didn’t feel alone. I had Willa.