hair. “My apologies—I didn’t mean to maul you that way.”
Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“Please, stay here. Security has orders to keep you in the building if necessary.” His husky voice betrayed no quiver. “I’ll—excuse me. I’ll be with you in a few moments.”
And then he was gone.
Touching two fingers to her lips, she stifled the scream of frustration welling up. What the hell had she been thinking? She’d spent the whole morning fuming mad at him—then one kiss and she was ready to get naked?
I am in so much trouble...
* * *
“If you’re not together why are you staying in his penthouse?” Penny demanded over the phone. She should never have told her little sister that she would be staying with Armand. For that matter, she shouldn’t have agreed at all. And his few minutes turned into hours—he simply didn’t return. She sat at the table like an idiot for the better part of an hour. When she went in search of him, she’d discovered he’d left the apartment through another entrance.
One guarded by security.
They’d ushered her back inside and requested that she wait for the prince to return.
Six hours later, waitstaff entered, prepared a meal, then served it and he still wasn’t back. He might have inflamed her passion, but he infuriated her more. The housekeeper showed her to a room and now she sat—still waiting for him.
“Look, Penny—it’s just for a couple of days until they get this nonsense with the press sorted out.” The explanation sounded even lamer out loud than it did in her head. No way in hell would she tell her baby sister about the threats. Not when icy terror slithered through her every time she considered the last picture. Whoever they were, they’d been in her room.
“Because moving in with him will show those guys just how wrong they got the story.” Penny snorted. “Is it nice? As nice as that palace they have in Norway?”
“It’s a penthouse. Of course it’s nice. But it’s also empty.” Not that his apartment wasn’t decorated—but the decorations were impersonal right down to the knickknacks. No photos of family, not even any paintings or works from Charlie’s favorites. She sighed. She had to stop thinking of him as Charlie.
Charlie was the lie, Armand the reality.
Accept it—you don’t want the prince; you want your boyfriend back.
“So, is he there? Like right now?” Her sister’s enthusiasm seemed to have diminished during the day.
“No. He went out.” She didn’t mention the kiss or the raging desire that left her restless and aching all day.
“Bummer.”
“If you say so.” She tried for glib and light, but exhaustion warred with need—she wanted him to come home. Then she could yell at him for walking away. Yes, that was what she wanted.
“Anna, are you really okay with all of this? I mean if you’re not really back together...” Bless her heart, give her sister a little while to bask in the pseudo-royal glory and she still returned to earth.
“No.” She didn’t lie this time. “No, I’m not all right. But I will be. Just avoid the press, okay? Don’t go for the Pippa thing. Mom texted me that they had to call the police to shoo them off the lawn.”
“I won’t. I mean...it would be fun and all. But only if you were happy.”
“I love you too, kiddo.”
“I know, I’m fabulous. And there’s Billy. We’re off to the village tonight, new bands playing. Love you.”
“Love you.” And then her sister was gone, her mood ping-ponging from sympathetic and loving to excited for her next adventure. The eight years separating them seemed vast more often than not, but she was good people. Thankfully, Anna’s phone had stopped ringing nonstop when she switched the cell back on, but the forty-some-odd messages in her inbox worried her. Mail from the office told her the press showed up there as well, but her staff assured her they had it under control.
They also recommended she stay away from the
Peter James
Mary Hughes
Timothy Zahn
Russell Banks
Ruth Madison
Charles Butler
Mandy M. Roth, Michelle M. Pillow
Lurlene McDaniel
Eve Jameson
James R. Benn