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Princess's Pregnancy Secret
Natalie Anderson


A secret night of bliss……a scandalous nine-month consequence!Attending a royal masquerade, billionaire Damon Gale can’t resist seducing a captivating guest. It’s the most shamelessly sensual encounter he’s ever had! Then Damon discovers that his masked beauty is actually Princess Eleni—and now she’s carrying his child. To protect Eleni from scandal Damon must do the unthinkable yet outrageously desirable: marry his pregnant Princess!







A secret night of bliss...

...a scandalous nine-month consequence!

While attending a royal masquerade, billionaire Damon can’t resist seducing a captivating guest. It’s the most shamelessly sensual encounter he’s ever had! Then Damon discovers that his masked beauty was actually Princess Eleni—and now she’s carrying his child. To protect Eleni from scandal, Damon must do the unthinkable, yet outrageously desirable: marry his pregnant princess!


NATALIE ANDERSON adores happy endings, so you can be sure you’ve got happy endings to enjoy when you buy her books, she promises nothing less. She loves peppermint-filled dark chocolate, pineapple juice & extremely long showers, plus teasing her imaginary friends with dating dilemmas! She lives in New Zealand with her gorgeous husband & four fabulous children. If you love happy endings too, come find her on facebook.com/authornataliea (http://www.facebook.com/authornataliea), twitter @authornataliea (http://twitter.com/@authornataliea), or natalie-anderson.com (https://natalie-anderson.com)


Also by Natalie Anderson (#uabfbee12-41a4-522a-91cd-a3b51575adcc)

The Forgotten Gallo Bride

Claiming His Convenient Fiancée

The Throne of San Felipe miniseries

The Secret That Shocked De Santis

The Mistress That Tamed De Santis

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Princess’s Pregnancy Secret

Natalie Anderson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07209-0

PRINCESS’S PREGNANCY SECRET

© 2018 Natalie Anderson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my family, for your patience, belief, bad-but-good puns and supreme fun…

We are such an awesome team, and I am so very lucky.


Contents

Cover (#u94445932-32eb-529b-ae8c-54c383dc47e2)

Back Cover Text (#uc8fb6e5a-36a0-5b06-9028-66311056b534)

About the Author (#u534dc69d-c7b4-591d-a322-6ec1000a2cfa)

Booklist (#u5541c1e1-a730-5069-b51b-c96efb9ee37c)

Title Page (#u8710aa85-4e67-5128-8f4e-97e2f719a191)

Copyright (#uf173ca65-b077-50e1-8c53-44642908e1dc)

Dedication (#u0acb766f-499c-50bc-be57-1189ca8f4ac3)

CHAPTER ONE (#u729410df-c5c2-5321-82f1-6451a1f90e0d)

CHAPTER TWO (#u7974c6a2-22ac-5886-b63b-08cdeaed14d6)

CHAPTER THREE (#uc6934c1f-192f-545f-9e79-edb1d9ad098c)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u1d4fb404-a577-5c32-8f54-ce561e869d3d)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#uabfbee12-41a4-522a-91cd-a3b51575adcc)

DAMON GALE STALKED the perimeter of the crowded ballroom, dodging another cluster of smiling women whose feathered masks neither softened nor hid their hunger as they stared at him.

He shouldn’t have discarded his mask so soon.

Turning his back on another wordless invitation, he sipped his champagne, wishing it contained a stronger liquor. Women wanted more from him than he ever wanted from them. Always. While they agreed to a fling—fully informed of his limits—when it ended, recriminations and resentment came.

You’re heartless.

He smiled cynically as the echo rang in his head. His last ex had thrown that old chestnut at him a few months ago. And, yes, he was. Heartless and happy with it.

And what did it matter? For tonight business, not pleasure, beckoned. Tonight he was drawing a line beneath a decades-old disaster and tomorrow he’d walk away from this gilded paradise without a backwards glance. Just coming back had made old wounds hurt like fresh hits.

But for now he’d endured the outrageously opulent entrance, navigated his way up the marble staircase and walked through not one but five antechambers. Each room was larger and more ornate than the last, until finally he’d reached this gleaming monstrosity of a ballroom. The internal balcony overlooking the vast room already brimmed with celebrities and socialites eager to display themselves and spy on others.

Palisades palace was designed to reflect the glory of the royal family and make the average commoner feel as inconsequential as possible. It was supposed to invoke awe and envy. Frankly all the paintings, tapestries and gilded carvings exhausted Damon’s eyes. He itched to ditch his dinner jacket and hit one of the trail runs along the pristine coastline that he far preferred to this sumptuous palace, but he needed to stay and play nice for just a little while longer.

Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the lens of an official photographer. He had no desire to feature in anyone’s social media feed or society blog. He’d been forced to attend too many of these sorts of occasions in years past, as the proof of the supposed strength of his parents’ union and thus to maximise any political inroads they could make from their connections.

The bitterness of their falsity soured the champagne.

Fortunately his career wasn’t dependent upon the interest and approval of the wealthy and powerful. Thanks to his augmented reality software company, he was as wealthy as any of the patrons in attendance at this palace tonight. But even so, he was here to make the old-school grace and favour system work for him just this once. Grimly he glanced over to where he’d left his half-sister only ten minutes ago. The investors he’d introduced her to were actively listening to her earnest, intelligent conversation, asking questions, clearly interested in what she was saying.

That introduction was all she’d agreed to accept from him. She’d refused his offer to fund her research himself and, while it irritated him, he didn’t blame her. After all, they barely knew each other and neither of them wanted to dwell on the cancerous and numerous scars of their parents’ infidelities. She had her pride and he respected her for it. But he’d been determined to try to help heal two decades of hurt and heartache caused by lies and deception, even in some small way, given his father’s total lack of remorse. From the intensity of that discussion, it seemed his job was done.

Now Damon turned away from the crowds, seeking solace in solitude for a moment before he could escape completely.

Symmetrical marble columns lined the length of the room. On one side they bracketed doors to the internal courtyard currently lit by lights strung in the trees. But on the other side the columns stood like sentries guarding shadowy alcoves.

A wisp of blue caught his eye as he approached the nearest column and he veered nearer. A woman stood veiled in the recess, her attention tightly focused on a group of revellers a few feet away. Her hair was ten shades of blue, hung to her waist and was most definitely a wig. A feathery mask covered half her face like an intimate web of black lace. Her shoulders, cheekbones and lips sparkled in a swirling combination of blue and silver powder.

Damon paused, unable to ignore the way her long dress emphasised every millimetre of her lithe body, clinging to her luscious curves and long legs. Despite that sparkling powder, he could see the tan of her skin and it suggested she was more mermaid than waif. She definitely spent time in the sun and that toned body didn’t come from sitting on a spread towel doing nothing.

She was fit—in all interpretations of the word—but it was her undeniable femininity that stole his breath. Her pointed chin and high cheekbones and perfectly pouted lips were pure prettiness and delicacy, while her bountiful breasts were barely contained in the too-tight bodice of her midnight-blue dress.

She hadn’t noticed him as she stood still and alone, watching the crowd. So he watched her. Her mask didn’t hide her emotions—while her intentions were not obvious, her anxiety was. Something about her stark isolation softened that hard knot tied fast in his chest and set a challenge at the same time.

He was seized by the desire to make her smile.

He was also seized by the urge to span his hands around her narrow waist and pull her close so he could feel the graceful combination of softness and strength that her figure promised.

He smiled ruefully as raw warmth coursed through his veins. Its unexpected ferocity was vastly better than the cold ash clogging his lungs when he’d first arrived. Perhaps there could be a moment of pleasure here after all, now his business was concluded and that personal debt paid.

He quietly strolled nearer. Her attention was still fixed on the people gathering in the glittering ballroom, but he focused on her. She hovered on the edge of the room, still in the shadow. Still almost invisible to everyone else.

Her breasts swelled as she inhaled deeply. He hesitated, waiting for her to move forward. But contrary to his expectation, she suddenly stepped back, her expression falling as she turned away.

Damon narrowed his gaze. He had his own reasons for avoiding occasions like this, but why would a beautiful young woman like her want to hide? She should have company.

His company.

He lifted a second glass from the tray of a passing waiter and stepped past the column into the alcove. She’d paused in her retreat to look over that vast room of bejewelled, beautiful people. The expression in her eyes was obvious, despite the mask and the make-up. Part longing, part loneliness, her isolation stirred him. He spoke before thinking better of it.

‘Can’t quite do it?’

She whirled to face him, her eyes widening. Damon paused, needing a moment to appreciate the layers of sequins and powder on her pretty features. She was so very blue. She registered the two glasses he was holding and darted a glance behind him. As she realised he was alone, her eyes widened more. He smiled at her obvious wariness.

‘It’s your first time?’ he asked.

Her mouth opened in a small wordless gasp.

‘At the palace,’ he clarified, wryly amused while keenly aware of the fullness of her glittered lips. ‘It can be overwhelming the first time.’

Fascinatingly a telltale colour ran up her neck and face, visible despite the artful swirls of powder dusting almost every inch of her exposed skin. She was blushing at the most innocuous of statements.

Well, almost innocuous.

His smile deepened as he imagined her response if he were to utter something a great deal more inappropriate. Her body captured his attention, and he couldn’t resist stealing a glance lower.

Heat speared again, tightening his muscles. He dragged his gaze up and realised she’d caught his slip. Unabashed he smiled again, letting her know in that time-worn way of his interest. She met his open gaze, not stepping back. But still she said nothing.

Alone. Definitely unattached. And almost certainly on the inexperienced side.

Damon hadn’t chased a woman in a long while. Offers from more than willing bedmates meant he was more hunted than hunter. He avoided their attempts to snare him for longer, bored with justifying his refusal to commit to a relationship. He had too much of what women wanted—money and power. And yes, physical stamina and experience. Women enjoyed those things too.

But the possibilities here were tempting—when she reacted so tantalisingly with so little provocation? Those too-blue eyes and that too-sombre pout were beguiling.

He’d barely expected to stay ten minutes, let alone find someone who’d rouse his playful side. But now his obligation to Kassie had been met, he had the urge to amuse himself.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

Her pupils dilated as if she was surprised but, again, she said nothing.

‘I think I’ll call you “Blue”,’ he said leisurely.

Her chin lifted fractionally. ‘Because of my hair?’

He had to stop his jaw from dropping at the sound of her husky tones. That sultriness was at complete odds with her innocent demeanour. She was as raspy as a kitten’s tongue. The prospect of making her purr tightened his interest.

‘Because of the longing in your eyes.’ And because of the pout of her pretty mouth.

‘What do you think I’m longing for?’

Now there was a question. One he chose not to answer, knowing his silence would speak for itself. He just looked at her—feeling the awareness between them snap.

‘What should I call you?’ she asked after a beat.

He lifted his eyebrows. ‘You don’t know who I am?’

Her lips parted as she shook her head. ‘Should I?’

He studied her for a moment—there had been no flash of recognition in her eyes when he’d first spoken to her, and there was none now. How...refreshing. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m no one of importance. No prince, that’s for sure.’

Something flickered in her eyes then, but it was gone before he could pick it up.

‘I’m visiting Palisades for a few days,’ he drawled. ‘And I’m single.’

Her lips parted. ‘Why do I need to know that?’

That sultry voice pulled, setting off a small ache deep in his bones. He didn’t much like aches. He preferred action.

‘No reason.’ He shrugged carelessly, but smiled.

Her lips twitched, then almost curved. Satisfaction seeped into his gut, followed hard by something far hotter. Pleasure. It pressed him closer.

‘Why are you all alone in here?’ He offered her the second glass of champagne.

She accepted it but took such a small sip he wasn’t sure that the liquid even hit her lips. A careful woman. Intriguing.

‘Are you hiding?’ he queried.

She licked her lips and glanced down at her dress before tugging at the strap that was straining to hold her curves.

Definitely nervous.

‘You look beautiful,’ he added. ‘You don’t need to worry about that.’

That wave of colour swept her cheeks again but she lifted her head. There was an assuredness in her gaze now that surprised him. ‘I’m not worried about that.’

Oh? So she held a touch more confidence than had first appeared. Another shot of satisfaction rushed. His fingers itched with the urge to tug the wig from her head and find out what colour her hair really was. While this façade was beautiful, it was a fantasy he wanted to pierce so he could see the real treasure beneath.

‘Then why aren’t you out there?’ he asked.

‘Why aren’t you?’ Alert, she watched for his response.

‘Sometimes attendance at these things is necessary rather than desired.’

‘These “things”?’ she mocked his tone.

‘It depends who’s here.’

‘No doubt you desire these “things” more when there are plenty of pretty women.’ She was breathless beneath that rasp.

But he knew she was enjoying this slight spar and parry. He’d play along.

‘Naturally.’ Damon coolly watched her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink, deliberately hiding his delight. ‘I am merely a man, after all.’ He shrugged helplessly.

Her gaze narrowed on him, twin sparks shooting from that impossible blue. ‘You mean you’re a boy who likes playing with toys. A doll here, a doll there...’

‘Of course,’ he followed her smoothly. ‘Toying with dolls can be quite an amusing pastime. As can collecting them.’

‘I’ll bet.’

He leaned forward, deliberately intruding into intimate space to whisper conspiratorially, ‘I never break my toys though,’ he promised. ‘I take very good care when I’m playing.’

‘Oh?’ Her gaze lanced straight through his veneer, striking at a weak spot he didn’t know he had. ‘If you say it, it must be true.’

Appreciating her little flash of spirit, he was instantly determined to take very great care...to torture her delightfully.

‘And you?’ he asked, though he already suspected the answer. ‘Do you often attend nights like this?’ Did she play with toys of her own?

She shrugged her shoulders in an echo of his.

He leaned closer again, rewarded as he heard the hitch in her breathing. ‘Do you work at the hospital?’

Tonight’s ball was the annual fundraiser and, while he knew huge amounts were raised, it was also the chance for hospital staff to be celebrated.

‘I...do some stuff there.’ Her lashes lowered.

Wasn’t she just Ms Mysterious? ‘So why aren’t you with your friends?’

‘I don’t know them all that well.’

Perhaps she was a new recruit who’d won an invitation for this ball in the ballot they held for the hospital staff. Perhaps that was why she didn’t have any friends with her. It wouldn’t take long for her to find a few. Some surgeon would snap her up if he had any sense. Then it wouldn’t be long before she lost that arousing ability to blush.

A spear of possessiveness shafted through him at the thought of some other guy pulling her close. Surprising him into taking another step nearer to her. Too near.

‘Do you want to dance?’ He gave up on subtlety altogether.

She glanced beyond him. ‘No one is dancing yet.’

‘We could start the trend.’

She quickly shook her head, leaning back into the shadows so his body hid her from those in the ballroom. Damon guessed she didn’t want to stand out. Too late, to him she already did.

‘Don’t be intimidated by any of that lot.’ He jerked his head towards the crowds. ‘They might have the wealth but they don’t always have the manners. Or the kindness.’

‘You’re saying you don’t fit in either?’ The scepticism in her gaze as she looked him over was unmissable.

He resisted the urge to preen in front of her like some damn peacock. Instead he offered a platitude. ‘Does anyone truly fit in?’

Her gaze flashed up to his and held it a long moment. Her irises were such a vibrant blue he knew they had to be covered with contacts. The pretence of polite small talk fell away. The desire to reach for her—to strip her—almost overwhelmed him. Now that was inappropriate. He tensed, pushing back the base instinct. Damn, he wanted to touch her. Wanted her to touch him. That look in her eyes? Pure invitation. Except he had the feeling she was too inexperienced to even be aware of it.

But he couldn’t stop the question spilling roughly from his lips. ‘Are you going to do it?’

* * *

Eleni Nicolaides didn’t know what or how to answer him. This man wasn’t like anyone she’d met before.

Direct. Devastating. Dangerous.

‘Are you going to do it, Blue?’

‘Do what?’ she whispered vaguely, distracted by the play of dark and light in his watchful expression. He was appallingly handsome in that tall, dark, sex-on-a-stick sort of way. The kind of obviously experienced playboy who’d never been allowed near her.

But at the same time there was more than that to him—something that struck a chord within her. A new—seductive—note that wasn’t purely because of the physical magnetism of the man.

He captivated every one of her senses and all her interest. A lick of something new burned—yearning. She wanted him closer. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Her pulse throbbed, beating need about her body—to her dry, sensitive lips, to her tight, full breasts, to other parts too secret to speak of...

His jaw tightened. Eleni blinked at the fierce intensity that flashed in his eyes. Had he read her mind? Did he know just what she wanted to do right now?

‘Join in,’ he answered between gritted teeth.

She swallowed. Now her pulse thundered as she realised how close she’d come to making an almighty fool of herself. ‘I shouldn’t...’

‘Why not?’

So many reasons flooded her head in a cacophony of panic.

Her disguise, her deceit, her duty.

‘Blue?’ he prompted. His smile was gentle enough but the expression in his eyes was too hot.

Men had looked at her with lust before, but those times the lust hadn’t been for her but for her wealth, her title, her virtue. She’d never been on a date. She was totally untouched. And everyone knew. She’d read the crude conjecture and the jokes in the lowest of the online guttersnipes: THE VIRGIN PRINCESS!!!

All caps. Multiple exclamation marks.

That her ‘purity’ was so interesting and so important angered her. It wasn’t as if it had been deliberate. It wasn’t as if she’d saved herself for whichever prince would be chosen for her to marry. She’d simply been so sequestered there’d been zero chance to find even a friend, let alone a boyfriend.

And now it transpired that her Prince was to be Xander of the small European state of Santa Chiara. He certainly hadn’t saved himself for her and she knew his fidelity after their marriage was not to be expected. Discretion was, but not that sort of intimate loyalty. Or love.

‘Do you ever stop asking questions?’ she asked, trying for cool and sophisticated for these last few moments of escape.

Wishing she could be as accepting as so many others who didn’t doubt their arranged marriages. Because this was it. Tomorrow her engagement would be formally announced. A man she’d barely met and most certainly didn’t like would become her fiancé. She felt frigid at the thought. But those archaic royal rules remained unchallenged and offered certainty. The Princess of Palisades could never marry a commoner. This disguise tonight was a lame leap for five minutes of total freedom. The only five minutes she’d have.

‘Not if I’m curious about something.’

‘And you’re curious about—’

‘You. Unbearably. Yes.’

Heat slammed into every cell. She couldn’t hold his gaze but she couldn’t look away either. His eyes were truly blue—not enhanced by contacts the way hers were—and hot. He seemed to see right through her mask, her carefully applied powder, her whole disguise. He saw the need she’d tried to hide from everyone.

She was out of place and yet this was her home—where she’d been born and raised and where her future was destined, dictated by duty.

‘You have the chance to experience this...’ he waved at the ballroom full of beautiful people ‘...yet you’re hanging back in the shadows.’

He voiced her fantasy—reminding her of her stupid, crazy plan. She’d arranged for a large selection of costumes to be delivered to the nurses’ quarters at the hospital for tonight’s masquerade. No one would know that one dress, one wig, and one mask were missing from that order. All done so she, cloistered, protected, precious Princess Eleni, could steal one night as an anonymous girl able to talk to people not as a princess, but as a nobody.

She could be no one.

And yet, when it had come to it, she’d swiftly realised her error. She’d watched those guests arrive. Clustered together, laughing squads of friends—the kind she’d never had. How could she walk into that room and start talking to any of them without her title as her armour? What had she to offer? How could she blend in when she hadn’t any clue what to discuss other than superficial niceties? She’d ached with isolation, inwardly mocking her own self-piteous hurt, as she’d uselessly stared at all those other carefree, relaxed people having fun.

Privileged Princess Eleni had burned with jealousy.

Now she burned with something else, something just as shameful.

‘I’m biding my time,’ she prevaricated with a chuckle, drawing on years of practising polite conversation to cover her shaken, unruly emotions.

‘You’re wasting it.’

His bluntness shocked that smile from her lips. She met his narrowed gaze and knew he saw too much.

‘You want a night out, you need to get out there and start circulating,’ he advised.

Her customary serene demeanour snapped at his tone. ‘Maybe that’s not what I want.’

The atmosphere pulsed between them like an electrical charge faulting.

Heat suffused every inch of her skin. Now she truly was unable to hold his gaze. But as she looked down he reached out. The merest touch of fingers to her chin, nudging so she looked him in the eye again. She fought to quell the uncontrollable shiver that the simple touch generated.

‘No?’ Somehow he was even closer as he quietly pressed her. ‘Then what do you want?’

That she couldn’t answer. Not to herself. Not now. But he could see it anyway.

‘Walk with me through the ballroom,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I dare you.’

His challenge roused a rare surge of rebellion within her. She who always did as she was bid—loyal, dutiful, serene. Princess Eleni never caused trouble. But he stirred trouble. Her spirit lifted; she was determined to show strength before him.

‘I don’t need you to dare me,’ she breathed.

‘Don’t you?’ He called her bluff.

Silent, she registered the gauntlet in his hard gaze. The glow of those blue eyes ignited her to mutinous action. She turned and strode to the edge of the alcove. Nerves thrummed, chilling her. What if she was recognised?

But this man hadn’t recognised her and she knew her brother would be busy in the farthest corner of the room meeting select guests at this early stage in the evening. Everyone was preoccupied with their own friends and acquaintances. She might just get away with this after all.

‘Coming?’ She looked back and asked him, refusing—yet failing—to flush.

He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow, saying nothing, but everything, with a sardonic look. The rock-hard heat of his biceps seeped through the fine material of his tailored suit and her fingers curled around it instinctively. He pressed his arm close to his side, trapping her hand.

He walked slowly, deliberately, the length of the colonnades. To her intense relief, he didn’t stop to speak to anyone, instead he kept his attention on her, his gaze melting that cold block of nervousness lodged in her diaphragm.

It turned out she’d been wrong to worry about recognition. Because while people were looking, it was not at her.

‘All these women are watching you,’ she murmured as they drew near the final column. ‘And they look surprised.’

A smile curled his sensual lips. ‘I haven’t been seen dating recently.’

‘They think I’m your date?’ she asked. ‘Am I supposed to feel flattered?’

His laughter was low and appreciative. ‘Don’t deny it, you do.’

She pressed her lips together, refusing to smile. But the sound of his laugh wasn’t just infectious, it seemed to reach right inside her and chase all that cold away with its warmth.

‘There.’ He drew her into the last alcove, a mirror of the first, and she was appallingly relieved to discover it too was empty at this early hour.

‘Was that so awful?’ he asked, not relinquishing her hand but walking with her to the very depths of the respite room and turning to face her.

Inwardly she was claiming it as a bittersweet victory. A date at last.

‘Who are you?’ She felt foolish that she didn’t know when it was clear many others did. ‘Why do they look at you?’

He cocked his head, his amusement gleaming. ‘Why do you look at me?’

Eleni refused to answer. She was not going to pander to his already outsize ego.

His lazy smile widened. ‘What do you see?’

That one she could answer. She smiled, relishing her release from ‘polite princess response’.

‘I see arrogance,’ she answered boldly. ‘A man who defies convention and doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks.’

‘Because?’

She angled her head, mirroring his inquiring look. ‘You don’t wear a mask. You don’t make the effort that’s expected of everyone else.’

‘And I don’t do that—because why?’ His attention narrowed—laser-like in its focus on her.

‘Because you don’t need to,’ she guessed, seeing the appreciation flicker in his eyes. ‘You don’t want their approval. You’re determined to show you don’t need anything from them.’

His expression shuttered, but he didn’t deny her assessment of him. Her heart quickened as he stepped closer.

‘Do you know what I see?’ Almost angrily he pointed to the mask covering most of her face. ‘I see someone hiding more than just her features. I see a woman who wants more than what she thinks she should have.’

She stilled, bereft—of speech, of spirit. Because she did want more and yet she knew she was so spoilt and selfish to do so. She had everything, didn’t she?

‘So what happens at midnight?’ That tantalising smile quirked his lips, drawing her attention to the sensuality that was such a potent force within him.

She struggled to remind herself she was no Cinderella. She was already the Princess, after all. ‘Exactly what you think it will.’

‘You’ll leave and I’ll never see you again.’

His words struck deep inside her—sinking like stones of regret.

‘Precisely,’ she replied with her perfectly practised princess politeness.

She shouldn’t feel the slightest disappointment. This was merely a fleeting conversation in the shadows. Five minutes of dalliance that she could reminisce over a whole lot later. Like for the rest of her life.

‘I don’t believe in fairy tales,’ he said roughly, his smile lost.

‘Nor do I,’ she whispered. She believed in duty. In family. In doing what was right. Which was why she was going to marry a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her. Romance was for fairy tales and other people.

‘You sure about that?’ He edged closer still, solemn and intense. ‘Then flip it. Don’t do the expected. Don’t disappear at midnight.’ He dared her with that compelling whisper. ‘Stay and do what you want. You have the mask to protect you. Take what you want.’

She stared up at him. He was roguishly handsome and he was only playing with her, wasn’t he? But that was...okay. Intense temptation and a totally foreign sensation rippled through her. The trickle soon turned into a tsunami. From the deepest core of her soul, slipping along her veins to ignite every inch of her body.

Want.

Pure and undeniable.

Couldn’t she have just a very little moment for herself? Couldn’t she have just a very little of him?

He couldn’t hide his deepening tension. It was in his eyes, in the single twitch of the muscle in his jaw as the curve of his smile flatlined. That infinitesimal edge sharpened. But he remained as motionless as the marble column behind him, hiding the ballroom from her view. Waiting, watching.

Take what you want.

That dare echoed in her mind, fuelling her desire.

She gazed into his eyes, losing herself in the molten steel. She parted her lips the merest fraction to draw in a desperate breath. But he moved the moment she did. Full predator—fast, powerful, inescapable—he pressed his mouth to meet hers.

Instinctively she closed her eyes, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his warm lips teasing hers. Her breath caught as he stepped closer, his hands spanning her waist to draw her against him. She quivered on impact as she felt his hard strength, finally appreciating the sheer size of the man. Tall, strong, he radiated pure masculinity.

He took complete control, his tongue sliding along her lips, slipping past to stroke her. Never had she been kissed like this. Never had she kissed like this, but his commanding passion eviscerated any insecurity—and all thought. Lost to the sensation she simply leaned closer, letting him support her, pressing her into his iron heat.

Heavy, addictive power flowed from him to her as he kissed the very soul of her. His arms were like bars, drawing her against the solid expanse of his chest. A moan rose in the back of her throat and he tightened his hold more. She quivered at his defined strength—not just physical. It took mental strength to build a body like his, she knew that too.

Her legs weakened even as a curious energy surged through her. She needed him closer still. But his hand lifted to cup her jaw and he teased—pressing maddeningly light kisses on her lips instead of that explosive, carnal kiss of before. She moaned, in delight, in frustration.

At that raw, unbidden response, he gave her what she wanted. Uncontrolled passion. She clutched at him wildly as her knees gave out—swept away on a torrent of need that had somehow been unleashed. She didn’t know how to assuage it, how to combat it. All she could do was cling—wordlessly, mindlessly begging for more. The intensity of his desire mirrored her own—she felt him brace, felt the burning of his skin beneath her fingertips as she touched his jaw, copying his delightful touch.

But now his hand stroked lower, pressing against her thigh. Breathless she slipped deeper, blindly seeking more. But she felt his hesitation. She gasped as he broke the kiss to look at her. Unthinking she arched closer, seeking to regain contact. But in the distance she heard a roaring. A clinking of—

Glasses. Guests.

Good grief, what was she doing?

Far too late those years of training, duty and responsibility kicked in. How could she have forgotten who and where she was? She could not throw everything away for one moment of lust.

But this lust was all-consuming. All she wanted was for him to touch her again—decisively, intimately, now.

Brutal shame burned from her bones to her skin. She had to get alone and under control. But as she twisted from his hold a long tearing sound shredded the unnatural silence between them. Time slowed as realisation seeped into her fried brain.

That too tight, too thin strap over her shoulder had ripped clear from the fabric it had been straining to support. And the result?

She didn’t need to look to know; she could feel the exposure—the cooler air on her skin. Aghast, she sent him a panicked glance. Had he noticed?

Of course he’d noticed.

She froze, transfixed, as his gaze rested for a second longer on her bared breast before flicking back to her face. The fiery hunger in his eyes consumed her. She was alight with colour and heat, but it wasn’t embarrassment.

Oh, heavens, no.

She tugged up the front of her dress and turned, blindly seeking escape.

But he drew her close again, bracketing her into the protective stance of his body. He walked, pressing her forward away from the crowd she’d foolishly forgotten was present. And she was so confused she just let him. Through a discreet archway, down a wide corridor to space and silence. He walked with her, until a door closed behind them.

The turn of the lock echoed loudly. Startled, she turned to see him jerkily stripping out of his dinner jacket with barely leashed violence. His white dress shirt strained across his broad shoulders. Somehow he seemed bigger, more aggressive, more sexual.

Appallingly desire flooded again, rooting her to the spot where she clutched her torn dress to her chest. She desperately tried to catch her breath but her body couldn’t cope. Her lips felt full and sensitive and throbbed for the press of his. Her breasts felt tight and heavy and, buried deep within, she was molten hot and aching.

All she could do was stare as he stalked towards her.

All she could think was to surrender.


CHAPTER TWO (#uabfbee12-41a4-522a-91cd-a3b51575adcc)

‘SLIP THIS AROUND your shoulders and we can leave immediately.’ He held the jacket out to her. ‘No one will...’ He trailed off as she stared at him uncomprehendingly.

He’d only been stripping in order to clothe her? To protect her from prying eyes rather than continue with...with...

Suddenly she was mortified. She’d thought that he’d been going to—

‘No.’ She finally got her voice box to work. ‘No. That’s impossible.’

Nervously she licked her lips. What was impossible was her own reaction. Her own willingness. Horrified, she stepped away from the temptation personified in front of her, backing up until she was almost against the wall on the far side of the room.

He stood still, his jacket gently swinging from his outstretched hand, and watched her move away from him. A slight frown furrowed his forehead. Then he shifted, easing his stance. He casually tossed the jacket onto the antique sofa that now stood between them.

His lips twisted with a smile as rueful as it was seductive. ‘I’m not going to do anything.’

‘I know,’ she said quickly, trying and failing to offer a smile in return.

She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of herself. Her cheeks flamed and she knew a fierce blush had every inch of her skin aglow. Shamed, she clutched the material closer to her chest.

This had been such a mistake. More dangerous than she ever could have imagined. Her breathing quickened again. She was so mortified but so sensitive. She glanced at him again only to have him snare her gaze in his. He was watching her too intently. She realised that his breathing was quickened, like hers, and a faint sheen highlighted his sun-kissed skin.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly. ‘I’m sorry.’

But he didn’t look sorry. If anything that smile deepened.

But she also saw the intensity of the heat banked in his expression and something unfurled within her. Something that didn’t help her resistance.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she muttered. ‘It’s a cheap dress and it doesn’t really fit that well.’

‘Let me help you fix it,’ he offered huskily. ‘So you can get out of here.’

‘I can make do.’ She glanced at the locked door behind him. ‘I’d better go.’

She knew there was another exit from the room, but it was locked by the security system. She couldn’t use it without showing him she was intimate with the palace layout. He could never know that. Maybe she could drape the blue and purple hair of her wig over her shoulder to hide that tear.

‘Trust me,’ he invited gruffly. ‘I’ll fix your dress. Won’t do anything else.’

That was the problem. She wanted him to do something. Do everything or anything he wanted. And that was just crazy because she couldn’t set a lifetime of responsibility ablaze now. What made it worse was that he knew—why she’d moved to put not just space, but furniture between them.

‘You can’t get past them all with that strap the way it is now,’ he muttered.

He was right. She couldn’t get away from him either. Not yet.

So she stepped nearer, turning to present her shoulder with the torn strap. ‘Thank you.’

Holding her breath, heart pounding, she fought to remain still as he came within touching distance. The tips of his deft fingers brushed against her burning skin as he tried to tie the loose strap to the torn bodice. She felt it tighten, but then heard his sharp mutter of frustration as the strap loosened again.

She inhaled a jagged breath. ‘Don’t worry—’

‘I’ll get it this time,’ he interrupted. ‘Almost there.’

She waited, paralysed, as he bent to the task again, trying desperately to quell her responsive shiver to the heat of his breath on her skin but he noticed it anyway. His hands stilled for that minuscule moment before working again.

‘There,’ he promised in a lethal whisper. ‘All fixed.’

But he was still there—too close, too tall, too everything. She stood with her eyes tight shut, totally aware of him.

‘You’re good to go.’

Good. She didn’t feel like being good. And she didn’t want to go.

She opened her eyes and saw what she’d already felt with every other sense. He was close enough to kiss.

She shook her head very slightly, not wanting to break this spell. ‘It was a dumb idea. I shouldn’t have come.’

She hadn’t meant to tell him anything more but the secret simply fell from her lips.

‘But you’ve gone to such trouble.’ He traced one of the swirls of glitter she’d painted on her shoulder. His finger roved north, painting another that rose up her neck, near her frantically beating pulse, and rested there.

‘You shouldn’t miss out.’ He didn’t break eye contact as he neared, but he didn’t close the half-inch between their mouths.

She had to miss out. That was her destiny—the rules set before she was even born. Yet his gaze mesmerised, making her want all kinds of impossible things. Beneath those thick lashes the intensity of his truly blue eyes burned through to her core.

‘You’d better get back out there, Blue.’ He suddenly broke the taut silence and dropped his hand. His voice roughened, almost as if he were angry.

‘Why?’ Why should she? When what she wanted was right here? Just one more kiss? Just once? Hot fury speared—the fierce emotion striking all sense from her. ‘Maybe I can...’ she muttered, gazing into his eyes.

‘Can what?’ he challenged, arching an eyebrow. ‘What can you do...?’

She tilted her chin and reached up on tiptoe to brush her lips over his. Sensation shivered through her. This was right. This was it.

He stiffened, then took complete control. He gripped her waist and hauled her close, slamming her body into his. She felt the give of her stupid dress again. She didn’t mind the half-laugh that heated her.

‘You can do that,’ he muttered, a heated tease as he kissed her with those torturous light kisses until she moaned in frustration. ‘You can do that all you like.’

She did like. She liked it a lot.

Kisses. Nothing wrong with kisses. Her bodice fluttered down again, exposing her to him. Thank goodness. His hands took advantage, then his mouth. The drive for more overwhelmed her. Never had she felt so alive. Or so good.

She gasped when he lifted her, but she didn’t resist, didn’t complain. He strode a couple of paces to sit on the sofa, crushing her close then settling her astride his lap.

She shivered in delight as he kissed her again. She could die in these kisses. She met every one, mimicking, learning, becoming braver. Becoming unbearably aroused. Breathless, she lost all sense of time—could only succumb to the sensation as his hand swept down her body, down her legs. Slowly he drew up the hem of her dress. His fingertips stroked up her hot skin until he neared that most private part of her. She shivered and he lifted his head, looking deep into her eyes. She knew he was seeking permission. She wriggled ever so slightly to let him have greater access because this felt too good to stop. Still watching her, he slid his hand higher.

‘Kiss me again,’ she whispered.

Something flared in his eyes. And kiss her he did, but not on her mouth. He bent lower, drawing her nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth while at the same time his fingertips erotically teased over the crotch of her panties.

Eleni gasped and writhed—seeking both respite from the torment, and more of it. No one had touched her so intimately. And, heaven have mercy, she liked it.

She caught a glimpse of the reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. She didn’t recognise the woman with that man bending to her bared breasts. This was one stranger doing deliciously naughty things with another stranger—kissing and rubbing and touching and sliding. Beneath her, his hard length pressed against his suit pants. It fascinated her. The devilish ache to explore him more overtook her. She rocked against his hand, shivering with forbidden delight. She was so close to something, but she was cautious. He pulled back for a second and studied her expression. She clenched her jaw. She didn’t want him to stop.

‘Take what you want,’ he urged softly. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘I...’

‘Anything,’ he muttered. ‘As much or as little as you like.’

Because he wanted this too. She felt the tremble in his fingers and it gave her confidence. Somehow she knew he was as taken aback as she by this conflagration. She might not have the experience, but she had the intuition to understand this was physical passion at its strongest.

Her legs quivered but she let him slide the satin skirt of her dress higher. It glided all the way up to her waist, exposing her almost completely. Her legs were bared, her chest, only her middle was covered in a swathe of blue. She sighed helplessly as that hard ridge of him pressed where she was aching most.

She struggled to unfasten his shirt buttons; she wanted to see his skin. To feel it. He helped her, pulling the halves of his shirt apart. For a moment she just stared. She’d known he was strong, she’d felt that. But the definition of his tense muscles—the pecs, the abs—still took her by surprise. The light scattering of hair added to the perfection. He was the ultimate specimen of masculinity. She raised her gaze, meeting the fire in his, and understood the strength he was holding in check.

‘Touch all you like,’ he muttered, a guttural command.

She liked it all. Suddenly stupidly nervous, she pressed her palm over his chest—feeling the hardness and heat of him. But she could feel the thump of his heart too and somehow that grounded her. She read the desire in his eyes, intuitively understanding how leashed his passion was. That he, like she, wanted it all.

‘Touch me,’ she choked. Her command—and his reply—dislodged the last brick in the wall that had been damming her desire inside. She did not want him to hold back with her.

He caressed her breasts with his hands, teasing her as she rocked on him, rubbing in the way the basic instinct of her body dictated—back and forth and around.

‘So good,’ she muttered, savouring the pressure of his mouth, the sweep of his hands, the hardness of him under her. ‘So good.’

It was so foreign. So delicious. Feverish with desire, she arched. Pleasure beyond imagination engulfed her as faster they moved together. Kisses became ravenous. Hands swept hard over skin. Heat consumed her. She moaned, her head falling back as he touched her in places she’d never been touched. As he brought her sensuality to life.

She heard a tearing sound and realised it had been the crotch of her panties. They’d not survived the strength of his grip. She glanced and saw he’d tossed the remnants of white silk and lace onto the wide seat. Now she could feel his hand touching her again so much more intimately.

‘Oh.’

She dragged in a searing breath and gazed into his eyes.

‘That’s it, Blue,’ he enticed her in that devilish whisper. ‘Come on.’

She couldn’t answer—not as his fingers circled, and slipped along the slick cleft of her sex, not as they teased that sensitive nub over and over and over. She bit her lip as that searing tension deep in her belly tightened. She rocked, her rhythm matching the pace of his fingers as they strummed over and around her. He kissed her, his tongue soothing the indent of her teeth on her lip, then stroking inside her mouth in an intimate exploration of her private space. Just as his finger probed within her too.

She tore her mouth from his and threw her head back, arching in agony as she gasped for breath. He fixed his mouth on her breast, drawing her nipple in deep. Pleasure shot from one sensitive point to another, rolling in violent waves across her body. She shuddered in exquisite agony, crying out as she was completely lost to this raw, writhing bliss.

When she opened her eyes she saw he was watching her, his hand gently stroking her thigh.

She breathed out, summoning calm and failing. Giddy, she gazed at him, stunned by the realisation that she’d just had an orgasm. She’d let him touch her and kiss her and he’d made the most amazing feelings flood through her. But the hunger had returned already and brought that special kind of anger with it.

That emptiness blossomed, bigger than before. There was more to this electricity between them. More that she’d missed. More that she wanted.

A chasm stretched before her. A choice. A line that, once crossed, could never be reclaimed. But it was her choice. And suddenly she knew exactly how she wanted this one thing in her life to be. Within her control.

For this first time—for only this time—she wanted physical intimacy with a man who truly wanted her back. A man who wanted not her title, not her purity or connections. Just her—naked and no one special. This man knew nothing of who or what she was, but he wanted her. This was not love, no. But pure, basic, brilliant lust.

Just this once, she would be wanted for nothing but herself.

Almost angrily she shifted on him, pressing close again, kissing him. He kissed her back, as hard, as passionate. She moaned in his mouth. Willing him to take over. But he drew back, pressing his hand over hers, stopping her from sliding her palm down his chiselled chest to his belt.

‘We’re going to be in trouble in a second,’ he groaned. ‘Stop.’

She stared dazedly into his face as he eased her back along his thighs, almost crying at his rejection.

‘I need to keep you safe,’ he muttered as his hands worked quickly to release his zipper. ‘One second. To be safe.’

She couldn’t compute his comment because at that moment his erection sprang free. Never had she seen a man naked. Never had she touched. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small packet that he tore open with his teeth. Her mouth dried as she stared avidly.

Of course he was prepared. He was an incredibly handsome, virile man who knew exactly how to turn her on because he was experienced. He was used to this kind of anonymous tryst and he definitely knew how to make a woman feel good. And that was...okay.

As she tore her gaze away from the magnificence of him she caught sight of their reflections in that gleaming mirror again. The image of those two strangers—half naked and entwined—was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen in her life. Their pasts didn’t matter. Nor did their futures. There was only this. Only them. Only now. She turned back to look at the overwhelming man she was sitting astride with such vulnerability—and with such desire.

Princess Eleni always did the right thing.

But she wasn’t Princess Eleni tonight. She was no one and this was nothing.

‘Easy, Blue.’ He gently stroked her arm.

She realised her breathing was completely audible—rushed and short.

‘Just whatever you want,’ he muttered softly.

He wasn’t just inviting her. He was giving her the choice, all the control. Yet his voice and his body both commanded and compelled her own and there was no choice.

This once. This one time. She wanted everything—all of him. She shimmied closer. The sight of his huge straining erection made her quiver and melt. She didn’t know how to do this. She looked into his eyes and was lost in that intensity. And suddenly she understood.

She kissed him. Kissed him long and deep and softened in the delight. In the rightness of the sensation. She could feel him there beneath her. She rocked her hips, as she’d done before, feeling him slide through her feminine folds. His hands gripped her hips, holding her, helping her. She pressed down, right on that angle, every sense on high alert and anticipation. But her body resisted, unyielding.

She wanted this.

So she pushed down hard. Unexpectedly sharp pain pierced the heated fog of desire.

‘Blue?’ A burning statue beneath her; his breathing was ragged as he swore. ‘I’ve—’

‘I’m fine,’ she pleaded, willing her body to welcome his.

‘You’re tight,’ he said between gritted teeth.

‘You’re big.’

He filled her completely—beneath her, about her, within her. The force and fire of his personality scalded her. Her breath shuddered as she was locked in his embrace, and in the intense heat of his gaze.

‘Have I hurt you?’ His question came clipped.

‘No.’ It wasn’t regret that burned within her, but recognition. This was what she wanted. ‘Kiss me.’

And he did. He kissed her into that pure state of bliss once more. Into heat and light and sparkling rainbows and all kinds of magic that were miraculous and new. Touching him ignited her and she moved restlessly, eager to feel him touching her again too. That fullness between her legs eased. Honeyed heat bloomed and she slid closer still to him. She sighed, unable to remain still any more. His arms tightened around her, clasping her to him as he kissed her back—exactly how she needed. Yes. This was so good, it had to be right. He shifted her, sliding her back, and then down hard on the thick column of his manhood.

He suddenly stood, taking her weight with no apparent difficulty. Startled, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her in approval and took those few paces to where that narrow table stretched along the wall. He stood at the short end and carefully placed her right on the edge of it, then slowly he eased her so she lay on her back on the cool wood. Her legs were wound around his waist, her hips tilted upwards as he braced over her, his shaft still driven to the hilt inside her. That mirror was right beside her now but she didn’t turn her head to look again at those strangers; she couldn’t. Her wicked rake claimed every ounce of her focus.

‘This is madness,’ he muttered. ‘But I don’t care.’

Nor did she. This moment was too perfect. Too precious. Too much to be denied.

His large hands cupped her, holding her as he pressed into her deeply, and then pulled back a fraction, only to push forward again. Again, then again, then again. Every time he seemed to drive deeper, claiming more and more of her. And she gave it to him. She would give him everything, he made her feel so good. He gazed into her eyes and in his she saw the echo of her own emotions—wonder, pleasure, need.

She’d never been as close to another person in all her life. Not so passionately, nakedly close. Nor so vulnerable, or so safe. Never so free.

She kissed him in arousal, in madness, in gratitude. Trusting him implicitly. He’d already proven his desire to please her.

‘Come again,’ he coaxed in a passionate whisper. ‘I want to feel you come.’

She wanted that too. She wanted exactly that.

He touched her just above the point where they were joined, teasing even as he filled her. She gasped as she felt the sensations inside gather once more in that unstoppable storm.

‘You...please...’ she begged incoherently as she feverishly clutched him, digging her fingernails into his flesh. She wanted him to feel the same ecstasy surging through her. She needed him on this ride with her. As she frantically arched to meet him she heard his groan. His hands gripped tighter, his expression tensed. She smiled in that final second. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to revel in it and she never, ever wanted it to end.

His face flushed as sensation swept the final vestige of control from his grasp. Pleasure stormed through her again, surging to the farthest reaches of her body. She sobbed in the onslaught of goodness and delight and his roar of satisfaction was the coda to her completeness.

Her eyes were closed. She could hear only the beating of her heart and his as they recovered. She was pinned by his weight and it was the best feeling on earth.

But then laughter rang out. Not hers. Nor his.

‘What’s in this room?’

Eleni snapped her head to stare at the door as someone on the other side tried the handle.

‘Hello?’

More laughter reverberated through the wood.

Reality returned in a violent slam, evaporating the mist of delight. Suddenly she saw herself as she’d look to anyone who burst through that door—Princess Eleni of Palisades, ninety per cent naked, sprawled on a table with her legs around the waist of some stranger and his body ploughed deep into hers.

Sordid headlines smashed into her head: shameless wanton...a one-night stand...the eve of her engagement... There would be no mercy, no privacy—only scorn and shame. She had to get out of here. Aghast, she stared up at the handsome stranger she’d just ravished. What had she done?

* * *

Damon watched his masked lover’s eyes widen in shock. Beneath the blue sparkled powder, her skin paled and her kiss-crushed lips parted in a silent gasp. This was more than embarrassment. This was fear. He was so stunned by her devastated expression he stepped back. She slipped down from the table and tugged at her crumpled clothing. Before he could speak someone knocked on the door again. More voices sounded out in the corridor.

Her pallor worsened.

‘I’ll get rid of them,’ he assured her, hauling up his trousers so he could get to the door and deny anyone entrance to the room. He was determined to wipe that terror from her face.

He pressed a hand on the door. Even though he’d locked it, he couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t be able to unlock it from the other side. He listened intently, hoping the revellers would pass and go exploring elsewhere. After a few moments the voices faded.

He turned back to see how she was doing, but she’d vanished. Shocked, he stared around the empty room, then stalked back to where she’d been standing seconds ago. Only now did he register the other door tucked to the side of that large mirror. There were two entrances to this room and he’d been so caught up in her he’d not even noticed.

He tried the handle but it was locked. So how had she got through it? Keenly he searched and spotted a discreet security screen. Had she known the code to get out? She must have. Because in the space of two seconds, she’d fled.

Just who was she? Why so afraid of someone finding her? Foreboding filled him. He didn’t trust women. He didn’t trust anyone.

If only he’d peeled off that mask and seen her face properly. How could he have made such a reckless, risky decision?

Anger simmered, but voices sounded outside the other door again, forcing him to move. He glanced in the mirror at his passion-swept reflection. Frowning, he swiftly buttoned his shirt and fixed his trousers properly. Thank heavens he’d retained enough sense to use protection. But as he sorted himself out he realised something he’d missed in his haste to ensure that door was secure. The damn condom was torn. And more than that? It was marked with a trace of something that shouldn’t have been there. He remembered when she’d first pushed down on him. When she’d inhaled sharply and tears had sprung to her eyes.

Uncertainty. Pain.

Grimly he fastened his belt. He’d been too lost to lust to absorb the implications of her reaction. Now his gut tensed as he struggled to believe the evidence. Had she given him her virginity? Had she truly never had another lover and yet let him, a total stranger, have her in a ten-minute tryst in a private powder room?

Impossible. But the stain of her purity was on his skin. His pulse thundered in his ears. Why would she have done something so wild? What was her motivation?

Hell, what had he been thinking? To have had sex with a woman he’d barely met as fast and as furiously as possible? Almost in public?

But her expressive response had swept all sensible thought from his head. She’d wanted him and heaven knew he’d wanted her. He was appalled by his recklessness; his anger roared. But a twist of Machiavellian satisfaction brewed beneath, because he was going to have to find her. He was going to have to warn her about the condom. The instinct to hunt her pressed like the blade of a knife. She owed him answers.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

His pulse banged like a pagan’s drum, marching him back to the busy ballroom. He even took to the balcony to scan the braying crowd, determined to find that blue hair and swan-like neck. But he knew it was futile. The midnight hour had struck and that sizzling Cinderella had run away, never wanting to be seen again.

Least of all by him.


CHAPTER THREE (#uabfbee12-41a4-522a-91cd-a3b51575adcc)

‘YOU LOOK PEAKY.’

Eleni forced a reassuring smile and faced her brother across the aisle in his jet.

‘I have a bit of a headache but it’s getting better,’ she lied.

She felt rotten. Sleeplessness and guilt made her queasy.

‘The next few weeks will be frantic. You’ll need to stay in top form. They want the pretty Princess, not the pale one,’ King Giorgos turned back to the tablet he’d been staring at for the duration of the flight.

‘Yes.’

She glanced out of the small window. Crowds had gathered with flags and celebratory signs. She quickly dug into her bag to do a touch-up on her blush, thankful that the jet had landed them back on Palisades.

Giorgos had escorted her on a three-day celebration visit of Santa Chiara to meet again with Prince Xander and his family. Not so long ago she’d have inwardly grimaced at her brother’s smothering protectiveness, but she’d been glad of his presence. It had meant she’d not been left alone with Prince Xander.

The Shy Princess captures the Playboy Prince...

Their engagement had captured the imaginations of both nations. Her schedule and the resulting media interest had been beyond intense these last few weeks. At least all the appearances had kept her too busy to think. But late at night when she was alone in her private suite?

That was when she processed everything, reassuring herself she was safe. She would never tell anyone and that man from the ball would never tell anyone. He didn’t even know who she was. She didn’t know his name either. Only his face. Only his body.

She shivered but forced another smile when her brother glanced at her again. ‘I’m going to go to my hospital visit this morning,’ she said brightly.

Giorgos frowned. ‘You don’t wish to rest?’

Always protective. And also, always frowning.

She shook her head.

It had been nothing more than a sordid physical transaction. A ten-minute encounter between strangers. And surely, please, please, please, she would soon forget it. Because right now the memories were too real. She relived every moment, every word, every touch. And the worst thing? She wanted it again, wanted more, wanted it so much she burned with it. And then she burned with shame. Tears stung at the enormity of her betrayal. She was now engaged to another man yet all she could think of was him, that arrogant, intense stranger at the ball.

Thankfully displays of physical affection weren’t ‘done’ between royals so the few ‘kisses for the camera’ on her tour with Prince Xander had been brief—her coolness read by the media as shyness. In private her fiancé had seemed happy to give her the time and space to adjust.

It was Giorgos who had asked if she was going to be happy with Xander and who’d reassured her that her fiancé’s ‘playboy’ status was more media speculation than solid truth. For a moment she was tempted to confess her dreadful affair, but then she saw the tiredness in the back of her brother’s eyes. He worked so hard for his people.

And she couldn’t bear to see his crushing disappointment. She remembered how Giorgos had teased her with big-brother ruthlessness and laughter. But how he’d aged a decade overnight when their father died. Under the burden of all that responsibility he’d become serious, distant and more ruthless, without that humour. She understood he was wretchedly busy, but he’d tried his best for her—sending people to educate her, protect her, guide her. He just hadn’t had the time himself. And she could not let him down.

He believed Xander to be the right fit for her—from a limited pool of options—and perhaps he was. So she’d make the best of it.

For Giorgos.

But the thought of her wedding night repulsed her. As crazy as it was, that brief conversation with that stranger at the ball had engendered far more trust in her than any of the discussions she’d had with polite, well-educated, aiming-to-please but ultimately careless Prince Xander. She simply didn’t want him like that. She shivered again as that cold, sick feeling swept over her.

‘I don’t want to miss a visit,’ she finally answered as she rose to disembark the jet.

She needed to do something slightly worthwhile because the guilt was eating her up. Her brother nodded and said nothing more. If anyone understood duty before all else, it was he.

An hour later, as she walked the corridor towards her favourite ward, that cold queasiness returned.

‘Princess Eleni?’ Kassie, the physiotherapist escorting her to the ward, stopped.

From a distance Eleni registered the woman was frowning and her voice sounded distanced too.

‘Are you feeling okay?’

* * *

Damon Gale was barely existing in a state of perpetual anger. He hadn’t left Palisades without trying to find and warn his mystery lover there might be consequences from their time together. He’d described her to his half-sister Kassie, but she’d not been able to identify the woman either. No one could. None of his subtle queries had given any answers. Where had she disappeared to so quickly? Heaven knew, when he found her he was giving her a piece of his mind. But at night she came to him in dream after dream. He woke, hard, hungry and irritable as hell. There was so much more they should have done. But now she was hiding. Not least the truth about who she was. Why?

He loathed nothing more than lies.

So this morning, weeks since that damn ball, he’d once again flown back to Palisades. Now he waited for Kassie at the hospital in her tiny office, looking at the clever pen and ink drawings of the child patients pinned to the noticeboard.

He heard a footstep and a low, hurried whisper just outside the door.

‘Ma’am, are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

That was Kassie. Damon’s muscles tensed.

‘I’m just a bit...dizzy. Oh.’ The woman groaned.

He froze, shocked at the second voice. He knew those raspy tones. She spoke in his dreams. Every. Damn. Night.

‘Do you need a container?’ Kassie asked delicately.

‘I had a bug a few days ago but I thought I was over it or I’d never have visited today,’ the woman muttered apologetically. ‘I’m so sorry. I’d never want to put any of your patients at risk.’

‘They’re a hardy lot.’ Now Kassie’s smile was audible. ‘I’m more concerned about you. Are you sure I can’t get a doctor to check you over?’

‘No, please. No fuss. I’ll quickly go back to the palace. My driver is waiting.’

Palace? Damon was unable to move. Unable to speak. His woman had known the security code to get through that second door in the palace. Did she work there? But she’d said she worked at the hospital. That was why he was back here again.

‘Maybe you should rest a moment,’ Kassie urged softly.

‘No. I need to go. I shouldn’t have come.’

Damon stood. Those words exactly echoed ones he’d heard that night at the masked ball. Those exact tones in that exact, raspy voice. It was her.

He strode across the room and out into the corridor. But his half-sister had her back to him and she was standing alone. Damon looked past her and saw no one—the corridor ended abruptly with a corner.

‘Who was that?’ he demanded harshly.

Kassie spun, startled. ‘Damon?’ She blinked at him. ‘I didn’t know you were coming back again so soon.’

‘I have another meeting,’ he clipped. ‘Who were you talking to?’

‘I’m not supposed to say because her visits are strictly private,’ Kassie answered quietly. ‘But she wasn’t feeling well today and left early.’

‘Whose visits?’ What did she mean by ‘private’?

‘The Princess.’

Damon stared dumbfounded at his half-sister.

Princess Eleni of Palisades?

Wasn’t she the younger sister of King Giorgos, a man known for his protectiveness and control over everything—his island nation, his emotions, his small family. Hadn’t he been the guardian of the supposedly shy Princess for ever?

Now the covers of the newspapers at the airport flashed in his mind. He’d walked past them this morning but paid little attention because they’d all carried the same photo and same headline—

A Royal Engagement! The Perfect Prince for Our Princess!

But the Princess was not perfect. She’d fooled around with a total stranger only a few weeks ago. And now she was engaged. Had she been rebelling like some wilful teen? Or was there something more devious behind her shocking behaviour? And, heaven have mercy, how old was she?

‘What do you think was wrong with her?’ he asked Kassie uneasily. He needed to get alone and research more because an extremely bad feeling was building inside him.

‘I’m not sure. She was pale and nau—’

‘Where did she go?’ he interrupted.

Kassie was staring at him. ‘Back to the palace. She visits my ward every Friday. She never misses, no matter what.’ Kassie ventured a small smile. ‘She doesn’t seem your type.’

He forced himself to answer idly, as if this didn’t matter a jot. ‘Do I have a type?’

Kassie’s laugh held a nervous edge as she shook her head. ‘Princess Eleni is very sweet and innocent.’

But that was where Kassie was wrong. Princess Eleni wasn’t sweet or innocent at all. She was a liar and a cheat and he was going to tear her to shreds.

Thank God he finally knew where and how he could get to her. He just had to withstand waiting one more week.


CHAPTER FOUR (#uabfbee12-41a4-522a-91cd-a3b51575adcc)

IN HER BATHROOM Eleni stared at her reflection. Her skin was leached of colour and she felt sick and tired all the time. Wretched nausea roiled in her stomach yet again, violent and irrepressible. She’d been avoiding mirrors since the ball. She couldn’t see herself without seeing those two strangers entwined...

It had been over a month since that night. Now she gazed at her breasts and held in her agonised gasp. Was it her imagination or were they fuller than usual? That would be because her period was due, right? But finally she made herself face the fact she’d been trying desperately to forget. Her period was more than due. It was late.

Two weeks late.

She’d been busy. She’d been travelling. Her cycle could be screwed up by nerves, couldn’t it?

Frigid fear slithered down her spine as bitter acid flooded her mouth again. Because a lone, truly terrifying reason for her recurring sickness gripped her.

Surely it was impossible. She’d seen him put on that condom. She couldn’t possibly be pregnant. That foul acid burned its way up into her mouth. She closed her eyes as tears stung and then streamed down her face. She needed help and she needed it now.

But there was no help to be had. She had no true friends to trust. Her childhood companions had been carefully selected for their families’ loyalty to the crown and swiftly excised from her life if they’d slightly transgressed. There were acquaintances but no real confidantes and now most were in continental Europe getting on with their careers.

Eleni had studied at home. It was ‘safer’; it endorsed their own, prestigious university; it was what Giorgos had wanted. She’d not argued, not wanting to cause him trouble.

She was terrified of troubling him now.

But she was going to have to. Shaking, she showered then dressed. She quickly typed an email to Giorgos’s secretary requesting a meeting for this evening. Her brother was busy, but Prince Xander was arriving from Santa Chiara tonight for a week’s holiday with her. They’d be travelling to the outer islands to spend more time together. She was dreading it. She had to speak to Giorgos first. She had to tell him the truth.

Still incredibly cold, she grabbed a jacket and stuffed a cap in the pocket while her maid, Bettina, phoned for her car.

It was far later than when she usually went to the hospital, but she was desperate to get away from her suite where her maid was lining up sample wedding dresses from the world’s top designers. The only thing she could do while waiting to meet Giorgos was maintain some kind of schedule. Given she’d left her visit so abruptly last week, she couldn’t miss this week as well. She’d control the nausea and control her life.




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